Free Dead on Course by J. M. Gregson Page A

death than its mere discovery.
    He thrust aside that unwelcome thought and said, ‘I should like to interview you separately, if you have no objection.’
    ‘ Here?’ Munro’s head did not move, but his eyes flashed quickly to his wife with what looked like desperation. She did not respond.
    ‘ It doesn’t have to be: anywhere private would do. But here would be as good as anywhere.’ Aware that both the Munros were thrown of balance, he was anxious to continue questioning one of them at least before they could recover equilibrium.
    ‘ Right. I’ll make myself scarce and leave you to it.’ Alison Munro spoke up decisively. She did not look at her husband, who flashed at her a swift look of apprehension before he cast his gaze upon the carpet. He did not look up again until she had gone; for her part, she left without once glancing at her husband, even from the door.
    There was a second small pink armchair and the stool in front of the dressing-table that Alison had lately occupied. The detectives disposed th emselves as comfortably as possible on these inappropriate supports, moving them so as to sit facing the patently unhappy man who sat beside the bed.
    At a nod from his chief, Hook said, ‘The procedure, Mr Munro, is that we take statements from all the people who were in the vicinity when the crime was committed. We compare them, checking where the accounts agree and dis-agree with each other. There may be nothing sinister about a discrepancy: sometimes people just recall things differently. It all builds up a picture of what happened for us.’
    ‘ Shouldn’t you warn me that it may be used in evidence?’ Munro managed an anaemic smile.
    ‘ If and when someone is charged, we shall warn them that what they say may constitute evidence. Other people may of course be called as witnesses, if we, or for that matter the defence, considers their testimony would be useful. That, unfortunately, is probably still a long way ahead. What I like to do initially is talk fairly informally to the people who seem most likely to throw some light upon a crime. Sergeant Hook will take some notes, which may later be amplified into a written statement, which you would sign if you thought it a proper record of what you had said.’ Usually he outlined these things to put people at their ease; this time, without any change in his wording or intentions, he seemed to be increasing the pressure on the wiry figure with the thinning red hair who sat before him.
    ‘ What do you want to know?’
    ‘ Let’s start with the obvious. Can you think of anyone with good reason to wish Mr Harrington dead?’
    Munro looked at the floor for so long that Lambert thought he was not going to answer. Then he said, ‘He wasna’ popular.’ The voice was low, the accent as thick as that of an ancient Scottish caddie. Only the intensity of the sentiment prevented the bathos it threatened.
    Lambert said gently, ‘You’ll need to elaborate for us, I’m afraid. Don’t forget we don’t yet know any of the people involved.’
    As he hoped, Munro assumed that the people involved meant the party who had dined with Harrington on the previous night. ‘All of us had had our differences with him over the years.’
    ‘ Yet you were all here with him on a golfing holiday.’
    Munro looked as if it was the first time that had struck him as odd. He seem ed for a moment to be trying to solve that puzzle for himself. ‘We’re members of the same golf club in Surrey. Two or three of us arranged the holiday; Harrington joined in late. I think George Goodman invited him, but I’m not sure.’ Lambert, as a golfer himself, could see the picture: it was often difficult to refuse someone who wanted to join an outing of this sort without offence or embarrassment. As if in response to his thought, Munro now added, ‘I said most of us had some reason to dislike him. That doesn’t mean I can see any of us killing him.’
    ‘ Yet for what it’s worth, my view is