Page 13

Chapter Thirteen

Although we had no appointment, the office manager at River Mill met with Alan and me after a brief ten-minute wait. She didn’t seem to recognize me as the woman in search of a venue for my granddaughter’s wedding reception last year, and I felt no need to remind her.

Alan introduced us as a retired couple who wanted to learn how to play golf. “One of our neighbors,” he said, “loved the game, and I think he played here although he recently died.”

“What was his name?” she asked.

“Edward Sterling. He and his wife live just across the street from us, and we couldn’t believe the news.”

“May he rest in peace,” the manager said with bowed head. “It was a shock for us, too. Ed and Liz were like part of our family here at River Mill Golf Club.”

“Sue and I didn’t know them very well since we moved to Aspen Notch just a couple of years ago, but we’d chat in passing. In fact, Ed promised to give me golf lessons when we returned from Japan. Imagine our surprise to hear about his death.”

She glumly shook her head. “He was out on the green and suddenly keeled over. One of the foursome, Joe Wiley, is a doctor and he tried CPR, but couldn’t bring Ed back. It’s terribly sad.”

“Was Liz part of the foursome?” I asked.

“Not that day. She was having lunch at our bar and grill with friends, but he was gone by the time the caddie drove her to the 14th hole.”

“You mean taken to the hospital?” I questioned.

“No, gone like in dead.”

“She must have been devastated,” I sighed, trying to cover my faux pas.

“I suppose so, although I was in the office, not out on the green. From what I heard, she held it together pretty well when the EMT took Ed’s body to the morgue, and she followed in her car.”

“Well, we feel terrible about missing his funeral due to our travels,” Alan said. “We’ve gone to their house several times to express our condolences, yet Liz hasn’t been home. Could she spend her days here?”

“Gosh, I haven’t seen her. Come to think of it, she hasn’t been around for a few days. You might want to check at the bar and grill because she sometimes hangs out there.”

Alan nodded. “We’ll do that. I didn’t catch your name.”

“Where are my manners?” she replied, shaking her head. “I’m Courtney Bates and I’ll be happy to set you up with those golf lessons if you’re still interested.”

“I think we’ll take a raincheck on those for now,” Alan said. “Where can we find the bar and grill?”

She gave each of us a friendly smile. “Take a right just past the restrooms and follow the delicious aromas. I absolutely love the hot wings.”

“We’ll definitely have to try those, honey,” I told Alan, loud enough for Courtney to hear as we walked away.

I knew he’d agree because hot wings were his favorite bar food.

^^^

Alan and I continued the charade at the River Mill Golf Club bar and grill, hoping to meet up with friends of Ed and Liz Sterling. It surprised me to see such lively groups of retired men and women at the bar and surrounding tables, all of whom seemed to know each other.

Some of the chatter halted and eyes followed us when Alan and I each took a stool and asked the bartender for two light draft beers and an order of hot wings. The guy to my left turned to greet us. “It’s a great day for golf. Did you play?”

“No,” I said. “How about you?”

“Just nine holes today since my bum shoulder’s giving me trouble. I’ll tell you, if it’s not the knees acting up, it’s something else. Back in the day, I could play all 18 holes, have a beer, then go at it again.”

Alan laughed. “I’ve got a bum leg, so I know what you mean. Are you a member of the golf club?”

“I am,” he nodded. “Stan Parker, here. Aren’t you the police chief in town?”

“Retired. I’m Alan Jaworski and this is my wife, Sue.”

“I forgot you retired. You should come and get to know us.” His arm swept the room. “We have a nice bunch of people and good times.”

The bartender placed our beverages and food in front of us. “Stan’s right. This place is always hopping. I’m Jim Withers, by the way.”

Alan reached to shake his hand. “Alan Jaworski here. Have you worked at River Mill for very long?”

Several nearby patrons laughed. He replied, “Nearly thirty years. I started as a caddy when I was sixteen, then worked as a groundskeeper for a couple of years. I’ve been bar manager for the last ten.”

“That’s longevity,” Alan said. “They must treat you well.”

Stan laughingly agreed. “He owns the place!”

We all had a good laugh, including Jim.

“I once thought I’d be a golf pro,” Jim quipped, “but never got good enough. At least, I still get to hang around with golfers.”

He and Stan continued their bantering, with a few others joining them. Alan and I enjoyed our brew and wings while taking in the atmosphere at River Mill, and I liked the camaraderie. I let Alan take the lead on when we’d bring up the purpose of our visit.

He waited until Jim asked if we wanted refills.

I shook my head and Alan said, “Sue has to get back to her garden shop on the corner of Church and Main. Have you been to Butterflies and Blooms ?”

“The old log cabin?” Jim queried. “My wife has, and she told me I should see the inside. I will one of these days, but I’m always working.”

“Okay,” Alan replied, reaching for his wallet. After placing a twenty dollar bill on the counter, he remarked, “ We think our neighbors on Church Street golfed here. Do you know Ed and Liz Sterling?”

“Sure,” Jim said. “Of course, you must know Ed died a few weeks ago.” He pointed to the picture window. “I saw him go down, right out there by the 14th hole.”

Alan looked flabbergasted. “Geez, you never know. Sue and I were out of town, so that’s a shock. Was Liz with him when it happened?”

“No, she was having lunch with some friends at the table by the window.”

“Oh, my gosh,” I said, looking around for her. “Is she here now? I need to give her my condolences.”

Jim shook his head. “I haven’t seen her in a few days. That’s odd, now that I think about it.” He called out to the other patrons in the room. “Has anyone seen Liz Sterling lately?”

Most shook their heads and returned to their conversation. One lady said, “I’ve been calling her cell phone, but it goes right to voicemail.”

Another woman remarked, “She might have gone to visit family.”

The first lady replied, “She doesn’t have any.”

“Are you sure?” I asked.

“Fairly certain,” she said with a definitive nod.

“Well,” Alan remarked, “we’ll try reaching out to her.” He slowly slid off the stool and took my hand, which I considered very gallant.

Stan gave a broad smile. “Come again soon. We’ll get you out on the course, bum leg or not.”

Alan teased him. “I’ll play when you play, but it won’t be pretty.”

“That’s a deal,” he chuckled .

As we sauntered out, I managed to catch a glimpse of the ladies at the table near the picture window. They kept their eyes on us, and a few of them didn’t look very friendly.

It made me wonder what they knew about Liz Sterling.