T
heir looks weren’t accusatory. They all knew that I had dealt with murders before, and they hadn’t. I had seen similar looks in the past. While I never understood why people expected me to do anything, at least I had become accustomed to “the look.”
“Frank, what did they say? I mean how?” Pete asked.
“They didn’t. He said he couldn’t come to the phone.”
“Then how do you know he’s dead?’ Pete asked.
“I heard someone else in the background ask how long has he been dead or something like that.”
“Jesus, he can’t be dead. His daughter is getting married next week,” Mike said.
“When did anyone see him last?” Frank asked.
“In the club house after the round,” Pete said, and everyone agreed.
Only five of us sat together in the restaurant. Not counting Doug, who should’ve been with us, the other ten golfers in the group had gone elsewhere for their dinner.
“He didn’t come to the meeting either,” I said.
“Yeah, that wasn’t like him,” Frank said. “I mean people sometimes skip the meeting if they had a bad day, but I thought Doug played well today.”
“He did. He shot a ninety-three. Not quite ready for the pro circuit, but for us, not bad,” Tom said.
“I can’t believe he’s dead,” Pete said.
A server came to our table, and Frank said we had changed our mind and would be leaving. “Let’s wait for them outside,” he said to the rest of us. We all agreed.
A few seconds after we stepped out of the restaurant, a Myrtle Beach Police Department sedan pulled up next to us. A male and a female officer stepped out of the vehicle. They both looked like weight lifters. The man had jet black hair cut in a flat-top and close to the sides of his head. His face had a square flat look, and his neck strained against his shirt collar. While I’m no expert, something about how his arms and neck looked didn’t seem natural. I couldn’t help but wonder if the MBPD had a steroid problem.
The female officer, coming out of the passenger door approached us first. I could see the muscles in her arms, and her shoulders also stretched out her uniform blouse, but nothing about her gave me any feeling that she might mess with supplements or steroids. She had a nice smile, and her blond hair was cut shoulder length.
“One of you guys Frank Derby?” she asked.
“Me,” Frank said.
“The rest of you part of the golf group?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Pete said. “Is Doug really dead?”
“Let us ask the questions,” the male cop said.
“And you are?” I asked.
He looked at me like I ignored his last statement.
“Let’s start over again. I’m Officer Louise Strong, and my partner is Officer Whip Miller. We’re here simply to get your names and ask you a few basic questions. One of the detectives will follow-up with more questions later. They should have the answers you’re looking for. We don’t.”
“Then please ask away,” I said.
“Why don’t you take those three, Whip, and I’ll handle these two.” Louise chose Frank and me as her two.
Louise had to be the senior officer in the duo, I thought. She led us away from the others a few paces but made no effort to separate the two of us from each other.
“Can you give me your names?”
“I’m Jim West,” I said, and Frank identified himself.
“Your hotel and room number?” Louise asked. We gave them to her. “Your phone numbers?” We both answered.
“Do either of you know who might have had a reason to hurt Mr. Nelson? Doesn’t have to be someone in the group.” We didn’t. She gave us her card and asked us to call her if we thought of anything before the detectives got to us.
“Officer Strong, is there anything you can tell us?” Frank asked.
“The detective will fill you in,” she said in a casual, matter-of-fact voice.
I doubted it, but I knew in short order we would know most of what happened. Word gets out. She looked over at her partner, noticing he hadn’t finished with the other three.
“Where are you all from?” she asked.
“All over,” I said.
“We come here every year. There’s sixteen of us,” Frank said. “Well, some are fillers,” he grinned and nodded at me.
I met and became friends with Frank in Spain, but hadn’t had any additional personal contact with him until the prior golf trip. I had gotten to know him a lot better in the short span of time I’d been with him on these golf outings. I liked him.
“I’m from New Mexico, and Frank’s from Texas,” I said.
“The wild west,” she said, smiling more with her eyes than her mouth.
“Strong, I’m done here,” Whip said.
“Okay,” she took a couple steps away from us and called someone on her phone.
“Is that it?” Pete asked.
Officer Strong put her phone back in its holder on her belt. “Please, go eat your dinner but stay close to the hotel tonight. One of the detectives will want to talk to you this evening.”
A couple of the guys said okay, and all of us went back into the restaurant. Covid numbers had fallen, and everyone in the group had gotten their vaccinations, but the concerns were still out there among the general public. Most of the restaurants still limited occupancy, and only a handful of other customers had chosen Waffles and Shakes for their dining experience. Of course, that could also be because the place resembled a larger than normal Waffle House and may not have made it to the top of the list of places to eat in Myrtle Beach.
“Should one of us call his wife?” Tom said.
“The police have a procedure to do that, and we couldn’t answer any of her questions,” I said.
“It would be best to call her tomorrow,” Frank said.
“Once she hears, she may reach out to us. I know she has Vince’s phone number. The four of them have been close,” Mike said.
“Let’s keep those rumors to ourselves,” Tom said. He looked at me, knowing I had no idea about any rumors. “The four of them used to do a lot of traveling together. The next thing you know people are saying things.”
“Enough said,” I said and raised the palms of my hands up, facing Tom.
“You know their natural inclination is to think one of us, not only the five of us, but also the larger group, did it,” Pete said.
“That’s crazy, we just got here yesterday,” Tom said.
We all ordered some variety of waffle and some flavor of a milkshake and ate our dinner during bouts of silence interrupted by remarks about how terrible this was. I got the impression that everyone was looking forward to their interviews with the detectives later that evening.
If they were guilty, they might show some signs of nervousness, and I saw none. That I went through this little mental analysis immediately bothered me. I had no role in the investigation and no reason to suspect anyone. Why then had I already started looking for ‘tells’, the little signs that might lead to the killer?
I told myself to leave it alone. I needed to focus on my golf and leave the investigation to the police. My golf today was almost embarrassing. I needed to play better and keep my nose out of the case. Unfortunately, deep down I knew both would be difficult things for me to do.