“Is he alright?”

“Hey!” said a voice.

I didn’t like the tone of that ‘hey’ and I liked it even less when its owner came into view bearing all the hallmarks of being a policeman.

“Clint, is it?” he panted as he came to a stop.

“I’m arresting you on suspicion of murder…”

“Hang on a minute there’s no way I could have killed Smith – not with a golf cart.”

“Smith? Golf cart?” he looked genuinely confused. I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. “I am arresting you for the murder of Damien Zelnick. Anything you

“I’ll tell you who is guilty of this murder, officers,” Mitch was standing in a room in the clubhouse and I was lying on the floor with my cheek on the carpet and my arm cuffed to a table leg.

I pushed myself up quickly and surveyed the scene. Travers was present. There were two policemen. An older bloke I hadn’t seen before. The lawyer and a paramedic tending to Smith, who looked pretty shook up. I had the horrible feeling that Mitch was just going to let them cart me away. This was even easier than a confession, he didn’t need to convince the police.

I thought for a second about making a run for it and then noticed that one of the attendant lawmen had handcuffed me to the table leg.

“Not too late am I?” I asked.

“You finished your post-hit-and-run nap then have you?” Smith shouted. “You could have bloody killed me!”

I winced a smile at him and he stared blankly back.

“This murder was committed by…” Mitch began.

“Can I just stop you for a minute there, Mitch?” I interjected.

“Er.”

“Just before you get into the cut and thrust of it all I would like to say,” I lifted the table slightly and slid the attached cuff off the leg. “It’s just that there’s no way I could have committed this murder.”

“Erm, of course there isn’t,” said Mitch.

“Because at the time of the murder I was… What did you say?”