Free The Rotary Club Murder Mystery by Graham Landrum Page A

in his eyes whenever that wife of his came around.
    â€œSo what happened was that Mr. Hollonbrook began sucking up to Bucky—the way some men do to professional athletes. It was ‘Bucky’ this and ‘Bucky’ that and ‘Come on, have a drink on me.’
    â€œNot that Bucky was the kind that was in the bar all the time, or Mr. Hollonbrook, either. But it started in the bar.
    â€œFirst there would be just Bucky and Mr. Hollonbrook—for a cocktail before going home to dinner. Then it was Mr. and Mrs. Hollonbrook—Alice, her name is—and Bucky and Desiree—cocktails, of course—and then dinner here at the club, the four of them.
    â€œI don’t know when Mr. Hollonbrook and Desiree began shacking up, but I know when Bucky found out. Bucky had this friend who was going to the Augusta Open, and Bucky went down there with him. Well, the friend got sick and Bucky had to drive him home earlier than he had expected.
    â€œWhen Bucky got to the house, the papers were laying on the front porch, and the mail hadn’t been brought in for three days. No Desiree! Bucky started calling around—coudn’t imagine what had happened. Thought maybe her mother had got sick—or maybe a death of some relative.
    â€œAnd then … .”
    Noralou would rate pretty high on my list of storytellers. And then —indeed! She wanted me to ask—to be her stooge, so as to throw the emphasis on the climax.
    â€œWell, go on,” I said. “Tell the rest.”
    â€œMr. Hollonbrook drove up in front of the house and let Desiree out. That’s what happened. And as she came tripping up the walk with her little overnight bag and her suitcase, who should open the front door but Bucky!
    â€œI’d give a pretty to have been there.
    â€œPoor Bucky! Miz Bushrow, he idolized that girl. And this day
and age, when a man is like that, a woman hadn’t ought to play around. No ma’am.
    â€œWhat made it worse, you see, is that Mr. Hollonbrook was on the board of the club. And Jake Robinson, that was the club manager then, was one of these kind that knows where his bread is buttered. I mean him and Mr. Hollonbrook was like peas in a pod, they was so close.
    â€œPoor Bucky! Next time he got a chance, him and Mr. Hollonbrook got into a fight down by the ninth hole. It must have been a regular knock-down-and-drag-out. Mr. Hollonbrook had a bruise on his cheek bigger’n a biscuit and downright purple. And poor Bucky got his lip cut something awful. Why, they had to take stitches.
    â€œAnd that Jake Robinson—he was the meanest old thing anyway, and a few months later they caught him stealing money from the club, and that was the last of him—but anyhow, Jake Robinson, being hand in glove with Mr. Hollonbrook, he tried to fire Bucky on the spot.
    â€œAnd Bucky said he was going to sue the club for breach of contract. And Jake said if he did, Mr. Hollonbrook would have Bucky up for assault and battery. And Bucky said if Mr. Hollonbrook did that, he would name Mr. Hollonbrook in his divorce suit, and there were a good many other things he could tell about Mr. Hollonbrook.
    â€œMaybe you don’t think that put the monkey on somebody else’s back!
    â€œWell, so Jake said the club would buy Bucky’s contract, and Bucky said that wasn’t good enough. Then Jake said he could get Bucky a job at a club in Florida. So that sounded pretty good, and Bucky took it.”
    â€œMy goodness,” I exclaimed. “Now the pro,” I said. “What did you say his name was?”
    â€œBucky Patterson.”
    â€œBucky,” I mused. “Is that his real name?”
    â€œReal name—Buchannan.”

    â€œAh,” I said. “And where did you say he went?”
    â€œPlaya Grande Club, near Lauderdale.”
    Now that’s a good long distance from Borderville, and the whole story took place a long while ago. Nevertheless, Mr.