Mystery of the 19th Hole (Taylor Kelsey, Mystery 1) (20 page)

             
“Take this left turn.  Take this left turn!” squealed Chad.

             
Susan almost missed it but turned sharply at the last second, barely avoiding a car, and hit the dirt road.  Still going the same fast speed, they were rocking up and down over the bumps in the road.  The car passed through eucalyptus trees.  The ground was nothing but soft dirt.

             
Then they came to a hairpin bend.  Susan’s depth of perception told her she couldn’t make it at the speed she was going.  Slamming the breaks, she turned the wheel.  The car lost traction and, instead of making the turn, slid into the trees that lined the road.  The passenger door dented inward, and Chad leaned away just in time.

             
Susan accelerated and made the last of the hairpin with ease.  The car plunged through the pillar of dust, and at last they saw the ocean.  Seconds later they saw the house on the water.  Chad checked his GPS.  “This is it.”

             
Taylor and Abby were sitting there silently.  Praying.  Their hands were both lacerated and sticky with blood.  The brittle ropes wouldn’t budge.  

             
Taylor watched the bomb timer in horror.  “30 seconds.”

             
Abby gulped.  “Twenty five.”

             
“Here we go.”

             
“Not so fast,” said Susan, bursting through the doorway. 

             
Taylor and Abby sat upright in joy.  “Sue—Sue—Susan—bomb!”  Was all Taylor could say, eyeing the bomb in the corner of the room.

             
Chad stumbled in after Susan.  Susan grabbed him by the arm and pulled him to the bomb.  “Can you disarm it?”

             
Chad’s face was green, and he looked like he was going to puke.  He’d been staggering like a drunken man ever since he’d gotten out of the car.  “Oh, stop complaining!” said Susan.  “Be a man.  Disarm it!”

             
“Hurry, Chad,” Taylor and Abby were saying.

             
Chad put up a finger as if to say, “I got it.”

             
Ten seconds left on the timer.

             
He picked up the bomb and ran outside.  Seconds later they heard a low-pitched explosion and a colossal splash of water.  He’d thrown the bomb into the ocean.

             
Smart Chad. 

             
Then they heard him puke his guts out.  They all couldn’t help but laughing.

             
Taylor and Abby both sighed in relief.  “Thank you, God,” they both mumbled, eyes closed.

             
“At least it’s all over, now,” said Susan.

             
“It’s not over,” Taylor retorted.  “Jeff.”

             
Jeff was also sighing in relief.  He’d finally won the firefight.  All the angry animals had chased off the men.  Walking slowly to the man he’d shot, now in a slump on the floor, Jeff reached down to feel his pulse.  He was scared to do it, thinking he might have a killed a man.  Sure enough, the man was dead.  Jeff would have welled up in tears then and there at the thought that he’d just killed another human being, regardless that the man was a criminal, if another person hadn’t dropped into the opening.  The man in the opening was brandishing a pistol.

             
And it was the captain.

             
“So, how’d you find out about this place?” asked the captain.

             
“I think I should ask you the same question.  I have a very bad feeling you’re a dirty cop.”

             
The captain raised his gun.  Aimed it at Jeff’s head. 

             
“I guess I was right,” muttered Jeff.

             
“You figured it out, Jeff.  You almost ruined my plan.  I didn’t think you had it in you.”

             
Frowning, Jeff said, “That’s why you encouraged my promotion to lieutenant?”  A pause.  “Because I’m just dumb and slow?”

             
“Exactly.”

             
Now freed, Taylor and Abby ran for the Accord.  Susan grabbed Chad, who was leaned over the ocean, puking, and they all piled into the car.  “I’m driving, thank you very much,” said Taylor.

             
“Fine,” said Susan.

             
Chad looked at Taylor.  “Thank you.  I can’t stand Susan’s driving.”

             
“Hey,” said Abby, entering the vehicle, “this is my dad’s car.”

             
“It’s a long story,” was all Susan cared to say.

             
The final door closed and Taylor sped, weaved through the meandering dirt road, and sliced on the asphalt road to the golf course, seamlessly passing cars and smoothly skidding to a stop in front of the clubhouse.

             
Her dad was talking to a squad of police in the parking lot.  “Dad!” yelled Taylor, throwing open her door.

             
Needless to say, they ran up to each other and embraced.  Taylor apologized for being disobedient.  Many times and rapidly.  Andrew, a very good dad, said, “I forgive you.  Now please forgive me for not encouraging you in your detective abilities.”

             
Stepping back, Taylor smiled. 

             
He returned the smile.  “I take it you solved the case.”

             
“How could you tell?” she asked.

             
“The smile gave it away.  So, what happened?”

             
“Before all that,” she said, “I think the lieutenant is in trouble.  You’re an architect, Dad.  Under what hole in this golf course could there exist a secret underground chamber?”

             
He studied her eyes for a moment.  Probably to make sure she wasn’t making a joke.  Seconds later Mike Adamson unfurled a large engineer’s map of the golf course over the hood of a car.  The police stood over as Andrew studied it.  Finally, he said, “The eighteenth hole looks about right.”

             
“Let’s go,” said Taylor.

             
“How are you planning to get away with all of this?” the lieutenant asked, hands in the air.

             
The captain rolled his eyes.  “Let’s see.  I’m going to kill you, and I’ve already killed the only other girl who knew.”  Hamell checked his watch.  “Yeah, she’s dead by now.”

             
“What about Susan?” asked Jeff.

             
“That dumb British girl.  She doesn’t know anything.”

             
The captain stepped forward.  Jeff stepped backward in suit.  “And now,” said Hamell, cocking his weapon—

             
“Hey, I’m not dead,” came a voice.

             
Stunned, the captain turned around to see Taylor standing in the entrance.  She was a silhouette against the sky.  Jeff couldn’t help but smiling.

             
“I have smart friends,” she said, “including the lieutenant.”  Taylor approached the captain and lieutenant, intrepid.

             
“Well, then,” said Hamell.  He kicked Jeff in the gut and pushed him to the floor, then spun his gun toward Taylor.  “Move!” he bellowed.  “Over here with Jeff.”

             
She did as he said.  When she got to Jeff, she helped him up.  “Hands where I can see him,” Hamell bellowed, laughing.  “It will work out just like I planned.  Now I can just dispose of the two witnesses—”

             
“How did you figure it all out?” asked Jeff to Taylor.  “I still haven’t figured out the mysteries.”

             
“May I?” she asked, looking at the captain.

             
With a deep sigh, he replied, “Fine.  I’m a little interested in that myself.”

             
Taylor, hands raised, explained.  “It was… well, I guess it wasn’t simple.  As you both know, I believed there was a connection between the many robberies and the murder in the café.  I was right.”

             
She cleared her throat.  “That first time we went to the circus, Susan and I saw an elephant being stolen.  We were captured.  During the ride to our deaths, I listened as a man on the phone took down eighteen things.  Turns out those things were numbers.  Susan noticed that we passed a golf course.  Also, at school, Abby told me that something mysterious was happening at this golf course.

             
“The owner of the course, the board members—everyone except management—was in on it: An underground chamber to hide stolen loot.  This.  The guy wrote down eighteen things because the way to access this place takes an eighteen-digit combination.  The cups in each hole on the course have numbers ringed around them.  You simply turn each cup to the right number.  The way you turn the cups is by squeezing a ball into the bottom of it.  The ball fits tightly enough in the bottom to turn the cup, which is why all the bad guys had golf balls in their pockets or somewhere near them.  Like yours.”  Taylor pointed at the captain’s pocket.

             
“Anyway,” she continued, “the robberies were connected to the murder because Jack Cadell was one of the robbers.  As part of his initiation, he probably had to steal something big.  He knew his estranged son had a large golden statue.  That would work.

             
“So, he stole the statue, but only had one problem: there was a video camera above his son’s door.  Jack is reportedly bad with electronics, so he didn’t realize that the video camera wasn’t even hooked up to anything.  He probably looked around for a monitor or tape so he could destroy it, but, not finding any, he knew he would have to keep his son from reviewing the footage.  As
we
know, the camera is a dud.  But he didn’t know that.”

             
“Why didn’t he just wear a mask?” asked Jeff.

             
“He was.  And that was his problem.  He was wearing a ski mask.  One of two ski masks he’d bought that doubled as beanies.  On the top of the ski mask, the letters
JC
were emblazoned.  Just like the matching one his son has that is emblazoned with the letters
AC
.  He knew his son would recognize the beanie, so he had to do something.

             
“Jack probably didn’t want to kill his son, though they didn’t have the greatest relationship, so he instead killed someone he barely knew.  Brad Ringer.  Jack worked at the café and knew about the love triangle among Aaron, Chelsea, and Brad, and he played into it.  He killed Brad early that morning; and before Aaron came back from his night shift, he planted the bloodied pocketknife in Aaron’s jacket pocket.  Then he waited.  When Aaron went to the café that morning, Jack snuck the body in through the backdoor.  The door has a combination lock on it, but Jack knew the code because he’d worked there.

             
“He had quit his job the day prior, which is what made me suspicious.  It was all a pretty good plan, actually.  He stole the statue to enter your gang, got his son arrested for murder, retired, and took up golf.  You, on the other hand, had opportunity to get a dummy promoted to lieutenant.  You knew that would work perfectly.  A lieutenant who didn’t really know the rules and didn’t do anything important.  Only problem was, he was smarter than you gave him credit for.  And now you’re caught.”

             
The captain laughed.  “Bravo, you figured it out.  But my plan is still working greatly.”  He lifted his gun to her head.

             
Taylor grinned.  “Actually, no it’s not.”

             
He grunted.  “Why?”

             
Behind him, the sound of guns cocking reached his ears.  He lowered his gun, knowing there were at least a dozen cops behind him.  “Well done, Taylor Kelsey.  Well done.”

             
Taylor gave him a stern look, a look she didn’t let up until he turned and raised his hands in surrender.  The police closed in on Hamell while Jeff cuffed the man.

             
Taylor stepped out of the entrance, welcoming the light.  Her dad put his arm around her, and they walked back to the car while Chad and Abby went over the details of their adventures, and Susan babbled about the use of the word “emblazoned.”  Apparently, Taylor should have said “monogrammed” when she described the letters on the top of the beanie.

             
Laughing, Taylor said, “Next time, you can sum up the case.”

             
Susan said she didn’t want to.  With a big smile, she said she only wanted to be Taylor’s personal consultant of case summations.