Death on a Deadline

want?”
    At the clear sound of worry in his voice, my anger fizzled out like a bottle-rocket dud, and my face burned. “Obviously not. I just can’t stand to think of someone taking advantage of Carly, after it’s taken her so long to rebuild her life.”
    “Come to think of it, he asked me about her before Hank’s murder, so maybe he really likes her.” He pulled our cart up beside Carly and Elliott’s, effectively ending the discussion.
    After playing three holes of the nine-hole course, Carly grabbed a paper cone from the cooler and filled it with water. “Break time,” she announced and plopped down into one of the side-by-side golf carts. I grabbed my own water and took the open spot beside her before Elliott could. I’d tolerated his and Carly’s banter, but I still didn’t trust him completely. Alex sent me an I-know-what-you’re-up-to look as he and Elliott sat in the cart beside us.
    “Did y’all hear that the police think Hank was killed with a golf club?” I asked the air in general.
    Carly squirmed a little beside me. She’d been gung-ho when I’d planned this, but clearly her interest in Elliott was coloring her willingness to play detective.
    “I heard that.” Alex said Carly’s rehearsed line, even though he hadn’t been in on our planning. I could have kissed him. I pulled myself from fantasyland and jumped back into the script.
    “Wonder whose club it was?” I watched Elliott’s face closely, not expecting an answer, but wanting to see his reaction.
    He stood abruptly, crushed his empty water cone in his fist, and tossed it in the trash barrel. I got out of his cart and climbed into mine by Alex. When we reached the next hole, Elliott stomped up to the tee box, his expression dark. “This is actually none of your business, and I’m only telling you because I know you’re worried about Zac, but the police came here this week asking questions.” He glanced at Carly. “They think the murder weapon was one of our rentals.”
    I waved my own driver. “Like this?”
    “Yes.”
    “So it should be easy enough to check the records and see who didn’t turn their club back in, shouldn’t it?” Alex asked. His tone was casual, but he stepped slightly between Elliott and me. My hero.
    “Not necessarily. Think about it. If you were a clerk making six dollars an hour, would you worry about making sure missing clubs are accounted for?” Elliott waved a hand toward the wide expanse of rolling hills. “We find them out on the greens all the time.” Either he deserved an Emmy or he was an innocent man. Right now, in my book, it was a toss up.
    “So it’s the perfect murder weapon,” I said.
    “Ew,” Carly interjected. “No such thing.” She placed her ball on the tee and took a practice swing.
    “No, Jenna’s right,” Alex mused. “Untraceable, not belonging to any one person. It’s not like they can investigate the country club as a murder suspect.” He walked over to slide an iron from his bag.
    No, but they could take the country club’s golf pro in for questioning. I glanced at Elliott. “Did the police talk to you personally?”
    Elliott looked at me, then at Carly who had stopped mid-swing. “Yes, they did. I had an argument with Hank a few weeks before his murder.”
    “What about?” I fiddled with my wristband and pretended the question was normal.
    Elliott’s tan face reddened. “I felt that his newspaper mishandled a personal matter.”
    “Did he agree?”
    “Actually, he did promise to take care of the person responsible.” Elliott clutched his iron with white knuckles. “Are we here today for you to question me? Or is there any chance you want to play golf?” He sounded more resigned than angry, and I felt bad. He’d been more forthcoming than I would have been if faced with such interrogation.
    Carly took her position at the tee box, refusing to look at me. “Y’all, if they’d put a windmill down there by the cup, I just know I could get a hole-in-one.”
    Elliott’s face relaxed and Alex grinned. Carly had effectively diffused the situation and I had no doubt my who-lil-ole-me sister had done it on purpose.
    “Or maybe a little doghouse with a door to hit the ball through?” I joined in.
    “Just use your imagination,” Elliott coached.
    Carly promptly hit her ball out of bounds.
    “I don’t think he meant for you to close your eyes, Car,” I teased.
    Elliott eyed Alex and me. “I’d say that calls for a Mulligan, wouldn’t