Free The Feathery by Bill Flynn Page A

bids may come in by phone."

"Covington’s commission?" Scott asked.

"We contract for twenty percent of the collection’s value as sold."

"When would the auction take place, Mr. Gamby?"

"I must do some more thinking before we set a date, but my guess is in about four weeks from now."
Scott looked over at Matt. "Uh- oh."

Matt hesitated to calculate their expenses to stay on tour for four weeks. "Hey, my meager savings can cover a loan…and, Scott, your credit rating has just jumped to triple A."

Before Scott signed the contract with Covington, he removed Hugh McNair’s journal from the collection, wanting to learn more about his mentor’s famous relative and the feathery ball he had used when he set a record.
     
    Gamby voiced his concerns about the journal leaving the collection. "As I said before, McNair’s journal is a very valuable item when packaged with the feathery. Please take very good care of it. It would be best to wear these when you read it." He handed Scott a pair of latex gloves.
     They took a last look at the feathery and the other antiques before all were locked in the Covington Gallery vault.
     
     
     
     
     
    On the way out to Long Island, Matt told Scott about Sarah Covington. "Remember when we met at my place in Santa Barbara and you asked about my Europe gig?"
     
    "Yeah, and you said you were fired by a player, and it was a long story."

"Well, the player was Sarah Covington, owner of Covington Gallery."

"Wow, it’s a small golf-world. Why did she fire you, Matt? Did you club her wrong or something like that?"

"Not about my looping abilities. She did it because I had a relationship with another player she wanted to hit on, and I was in her way."

"Do you think I should continue to deal with Covington Gallery?"

"Probably be okay, Scott, but be careful. She’s very possessive, and will do most anything to get what she wants."
     
     
     
     
    W hen Scott finished reading the article by Alistair Beddington in Hugh McNair’s journal written in 1849, he sat up on the couch and exclaimed, "Awesome!"
Matt looked up from the cribbage game. "What’s awesome?"
     
    Scott stood and shook the journal in Matt’s direction. "I’ve just read how my feathery ball was made and then played in the match that set a record at Saint Andrews back in 1849."
     
    Matt was curious. He put his cards down on the table. "Hey, let me read that."

"You should…McNair’s caddie, James McEwan, was a red head like you and just as out of control. He handed the journal to Matt. "Be careful with it. I’ve got to return it to the gallery. You heard Gamby tell us how valuable it was."

Matt put the white-latex gloves on. "Okay," he said, "no beer stains."
     
     
     
     
    In the early morning Scott, Matt and Claudio left for a nearby golf course and played 36 holes there. When they finished they went to the practice green and stroked putts for quarters. Scott won most of the money before they left to have lunch at the clubhouse restaurant. Scott told Claudio about the Covington Gallery appraisal for the golf antiques.
     
    "Wow! I’m sorry I introduced you guys to that bastard Carrabba through my uncle. Glad you know the real value of the antiques now." He raised his glass of beer in a toast and took a sip. "It might be best, Scott, if you call Mario Carrabba to let him know his offer is rejected instead of leaving him hanging."
     
    "Even though he tried to screw me?"
     
    "Yeah, it’s more of a sign of respect and a courtesy to my uncle and Carrabba. Kinda important in their circle."
    "Okay, I’ll do it." Scott reached in his wallet for Carrabba’s card and made the call.

The voice that answered sounded like Rocco. "Who’s this?"

Scott told him.

"It’s you, the golfer? Mr. Carrabba was very disappointed when you didn’t take his offer last night. And when Mr. Carrabba is disappointed, I get disturbed. You know what I’m sayin, golfer?"

The next voice on the phone was Carrabba’s. "Hello, Mr. Beckman. I