Cherringham--A Bad Lie Read online

  Contents

  Cover

  Cherringham — A Cosy Crime Series

  About the Book

  The Authors

  Main Characters

  A Bad Lie

  Copyright

  1. A Hook and a Slice

  2. In the Rough

  3. The Morning After

  4. A Lunchtime Visit

  5. The Missing Artist

  6. Pies and Pints

  7. Tee-Time with the Captain

  8. The Dreaded Eighth

  9. A Little Breaking and Entering

  10. Who Is Josh Andrews?

  11. Ghosts From the Past

  12. A Trip North

  13. Needle in a Haystack

  14. The Promise

  15. A Nightcap

  16. A Cherringham Wedding

  Next episode

  Cherringham — A Cosy Crime Series

  “Cherringham — A Cosy Crime Series” is a series made up of self-contained stories. A new episode is released each month. The series is published in English as well as in German, and is only available in e-book form.

  About the Book

  When talented young artist Josh Andrews goes missing after a stag night prank at Cherringham Golf Club, the bride in desperation asks Jack and Sarah to find him. It seems he’s gotten cold feet, with the wedding just days away.

  But Josh is not all he appears to be … And soon suspicion falls on the Golf Club itself. Can Josh be found before he takes justice into his own hands?

  The Authors

  Matthew Costello (US-based) is the author of a number of successful novels, including Vacation (2011), Home (2014) and Beneath Still Waters (1989), which was adapted by Lionsgate as a major motion picture. He has written for The Disney Channel, BBC, SyFy and has also designed dozens of bestselling games including the critically acclaimed The 7th Guest, Doom 3, Rage and Pirates of the Caribbean.

  Neil Richards has worked as a producer and writer in TV and film, creating scripts for BBC, Disney, and Channel 4, and earning numerous Bafta nominations along the way. He’s also written script and story for over 20 video games including The Da Vinci Code and Starship Titanic, co-written with Douglas Adams, and consults around the world on digital storytelling.

  His writing partnership with NYC-based Matt Costello goes back to the late 90’s and the two have written many hours of TV together. Cherringham is their first crime fiction as co-writers.

  Main Characters

  Jack Brennan is a former NYPD homicide detective who lost his wife a year ago. Being retired, all he wants is peace and quiet. Which is what he hopes to find in the quiet town of Cherringham, UK. Living on a canal boat, he enjoys his solitude. But soon enough he discovers that something is missing — the challenge of solving crimes. Surprisingly, Cherringham can help him with that.

  Sarah Edwards is a web designer who was living in London with her husband and two kids. Two years ago, he ran off with his sexy American boss, and Sarah’s world fell apart. With her children she moved back to her home town, laid-back Cherringham. But the small town atmosphere is killing her all over again — nothing ever happens. At least, that’s what she thinks until Jack enters her life and changes it for good or worse …

  Matthew Costello

  Neil Richards

  CHERRINGHAM

  A COSY CRIME SERIES

  A Bad Lie

  BASTEI ENTERTAINMENT

  Digital original edition

  Bastei Entertainment is an imprint of Bastei Lübbe AG

  Copyright © 2016 by Bastei Lübbe AG, Schanzenstraße 6-20, 51063 Cologne, Germany

  Written by Matthew Costello and Neil Richards

  Edited by Sean Sinico

  Project editor: Kathrin Kummer

  Cover illustrations © shutterstock: Buslik | Steve Collender | LiliGraphie | karamysh

  Cover design: Jeannine Schmelzer

  E-book production: Urban SatzKonzept, Düsseldorf

  ISBN 978-3-7325-0855-6

  www.bastei-entertainment.com

  1. A Hook and a Slice

  Ryan Collins watched his mates pile out of his hire car — a big Ford Galaxy.

  He had held back on the various drinks rounds — someone had to able to drive if this stag night was going to end like they’d planned — and safely.

  But the other guys?

  Josh Andrews, the groom to be, was still trying to work out some loopy joke that Marcus Doyle — his best man — had told involving a mistaken room on a honeymoon night.

  Gary Quinn, usually as sober as a judge, definitely looked like it was time for a hot shower.

  Looking a bit wobbly for this little adventure …

  Ryan had parked well away from the tall security lights that covered the car park of the Cherringham Golf Club.

  Despite that, he guessed that they might be picked up by some hidden camera somewhere.

  Still, a stag night prank was a stag night prank.

  And though Ryan had his doubts — certainly about doing it here — he had eventually agreed that it was, as far as such things go — a killer prank.

  And, so far, Josh hadn’t spotted that the partying was about to end with him getting what was every groom’s just dessert.

  Being on the wrong side of a bloody good joke.

  Marcus put a hand on Josh … as Ryan walked over, pressing the key fob to lock the hire car.

  The best man took a deep breath as if that might clear the fog of the many pints and shots he’d been pouring down his neck all evening.

  But it did nothing to cut down the fuzzy edges of his words.

  “So lissen up, Joshie old son. Here’s the deal …”

  Josh nodded, listening as if about to be told some life-changing information.

  “You know, I mean, the lovely Lauren you’re goin’ to marry, this is her dad’s place, idn’t it?”

  Marcus nodded vigorously as he spoke.

  Josh looked around as if he was just working out where they’d beached up. Ryan knew he tended to be quiet; always a bit of a loner, the sculptor, so serious about his work.

  They made, he thought, an unlikely quartet.

  But good friends they had all become, courtesy of two riotous years sharing a house in Brixton together.

  Straight out of uni, they’d been then. Young and free. And now, Josh — first to get hitched.

  Maybe me next, thought Ryan.

  If I’m not careful …

  He watched as Marcus waited … as if it was vital for Josh to agree with the information just imparted.

  “Right. Her old man.” Josh shook his head. “That stuffed shirt bast—”

  Marcus clapped Josh on the shoulder again.

  “Now, now. He’s gonna be your father-in-law.” Then Marcus laughed. “And he’s rich, you lucky sod.”

  Ryan had popped open the boot and pulled out a bag of golf clubs.

  His personal set; he didn’t get out to the links much, but the one bag of regulation clubs would be all they needed.

  Wasn’t the full eighteen holes they had planned.

  Ryan snaked his arm into the bag’s shoulder strap.

  “So,” Marcus said, continuing.

  Ryan could see how this guy had become such a successful fund manager at his company. Even now, so well ‘lubricated’, his pitch was smooth as silk.

  “We play just one hole, the …”

  Marcus looked around as if he had lost the plot for a moment.

  “The eighth hole,” Gary Quinn said, matching Marcus slur for slur.

  Ryan thinking: God, how the hell is Gary even going to hit the ball?

  He’ll be seeing two of them!

  “Right. Just one hole, Joshie. On your future old man’s co
urse. He’s the bloody club captain, right?”

  Josh nodded.

  If he had flashed on the fact the something more than a single hole of golf was in the air, he gave no sign of it.

  “See there …” Marcus said, pulling Josh even closer. “Me and Gary here did a recce. See, that’s the first hole there — and right next to it, what they call ‘The Dreaded Number Eight’.”

  “Dreaded?”

  Ryan saw that the groom wasn’t smiling.

  Maybe he was becoming aware something’s up.

  “Thing’s bloody narrow. Got almost no fairway. Then curves left in between two ponds.”

  “And, and … bunkers everywhere,” Gary said with a goofy grin.

  Ryan was having new doubts about this adventure.

  Water, sand.

  Metal clubs!

  Didn’t seem like a healthy recipe for the evening’s end.

  For them at least.

  “So whaddya say? Us four mates, that killer hole, at night, just the bloody moon showing us where the balls go?”

  Right, thought Ryan.

  That sounds realistic.

  It was hard enough spotting a ball in the rough on a sunny day.

  But night-time? Moonlight?

  Daft.

  “Dunno,” Josh said, suddenly seeming more like the thoughtful sculptor they knew — often drifting away as if an idea had come to him … and no matter where they were, playing rugby, or downing a few pints he’d be gone.

  Lost to his thoughts.

  Even more than usual, tonight.

  But Marcus Doyle, equities fund manager extraordinaire, would not be deterred.

  “Ryan here got his clubs. It’ll be great, Joshie.” He leaned close. “That wife to be of yours is gonna love hearing about it.”

  Ryan knew from what Josh said that there was little love lost between Josh’s bride, Lauren, and her well-to-do parents, James and Babs Proctor.

  Amazingly though, dad was stumping up for a major do, a big Cherringham wedding, no corners cut.

  “Whaddya say? Then we head back, and after an appropriate nightcap, we call it a night.”

  Josh had to know that a prank was coming.

  But maybe not tonight.

  Maybe thinking it would be closer to the wedding still nearly a week away?

  He guessed that all those Jagerbombs had made sorting out such things just a bit impossible.

  Ryan saw Josh look around, then with his face looking so serious — brow knitted, his jet black hair blowing in the evening breeze — he finally nodded.

  “Alright. One hole. The dreaded eighth. If only to shut you guys up!”

  Ryan gave the heavy bag a shake. No golf cart for this one-hole excursion.

  Just the four of them, making their way to the dark tees where they would attempt to move their four dimpled balls through a tricky, treacherous hole.

  He looked across at the clubhouse, visible through the trees beyond the first hole. The lights were all off.

  Three in the morning — not surprising.

  But not for the first time, Ryan thought …

  Madness.

  2. In the Rough

  Ryan watched as each of his friends teed off.

  Into the darkness.

  How they would ever find their golf balls, even with perfect shots, was beyond him.

  Amazingly, Marcus seemed to tee off perfectly, using his driver to send the ball sailing.

  Looked straight.

  But it vanished in the gloom.

  His own shot — he knew because he could feel it, though not see it — hooked left.

  If he didn’t find the ball, he’d just drop another.

  Gary stepped up to the tee, still swaying. Then he swung — and amazingly connected well, the ball sailing out into the darkness.

  Ryan watched him punch the air, then nearly fall over.

  Finally Josh, compact and strong, teed up his ball.

  They had only played golf together once before.

  And during that game, while Josh didn’t have much grace and finesses, his powerful arms set the ball sailing.

  Just as it did now.

  “Joshie …” Marcus said. “I do believe you got us on distance.”

  Josh nodded.

  Probably thinking … let’s finish this stupid hole, and get out of here.

  But then, with all four balls out there somewhere, they trudged on.

  *

  Only Marcus found his ball, square in the fairway, just where the hole curved.

  But now it was time for Gary to do his part.

  “I think … think my ball’s over there, past that bunker.”

  He pointed towards a gloomy stand of trees to the left of a kidney-shaped bunker.

  Past those trees, Ryan knew, lay a sudden drop, an ancient gorge that helped give this hole its reputation.

  Next to the trees a massive lawnmower, its rust red colour barely visible in the milky light.

  Gary ambled over.

  Josh said: “Come on, Gary. Just drop a damn ball here. You’ll never find it.”

  Close to the machine, Gary turned. “Swear I heard it hit the bloody metal. Got to be right here somewhere. Come on, gimme a hand finding it.”

  Josh shook his head and joined the search — something one golfer always did for another.

  Though usually that rule only applied during daylight.

  Marcus came up to Ryan and unzipped a side pocket on the bulky bag.

  His eyes caught the scant light.

  He yanked out a coil of thick yellow filament rope.

  “All set, Mr. Ryan? Trustin’ you with the knot, being the steadiest, and all.”

  Ryan didn’t feel ‘all set’ at all.

  But he nodded, and they both followed behind Josh who now, with Gary, was bent over and uselessly poking around the blades of the mower.

  He could hear Josh complaining.

  “Come on, Gary. Give it up. You’re not—”

  Josh looked back to see the two of them.

  Marcus, the yellow line in his hand.

  And Ryan guessed — that at that very moment — Josh knew what was up.

  And what exactly was happening here.

  *

  Josh spun around just as Marcus and Gary pulled the rope tight around him, and looped it around the mower’s giant steering wheel, then again, moving quickly.

  While Josh struggled against the thick rope, and then started shaking his head.

  “Bloody hell. You can’t … be doing this …”

  “Oh, yes Josh me old mate — we certainly can,” his best man said laughing.

  “Enough …” he said.

  When Ryan looked at him, Josh’s smile was gone.

  The artist could be intense — sometimes with a surprising rough edge to him.

  Wouldn’t want him mad at me.

  And though Ryan had reluctantly agreed to this stag-night prank, now — in the midst of it — he wasn’t sure at all.

  And with Josh there, trussed up tight to the sleeping mower, he had even more doubts.

  This is a really bad idea.

  “This …” Josh said quietly, “…is my future father-in-law’s bloody …” his voice suddenly grew louder, “damn golf club.”

  Marcus paused in his tying of knots.

  “Um, like that’s why we picked this place, Josh. Tomorrow, lots of people hit the course — and they’ll see you.” He leaned closer. “Gotta admit, sight for sore eyes, hmm?”

  Josh did another twist and turn to see if he could wriggle loose. But the line now criss-crossed all over his body.

  Then Marcus stood back, hand on chin, as if inspecting his handiwork.

  “Hmm … just one detail missing, I reckon. Ryan — care to do the honours?”

  And now it was Ryan’s turn to roll his eyes.

  Annoyed with himself that he had also agreed to this last stupid detail.

  He knelt down and slipped off Josh’s scuffed up shoes.


  Then up, to undo his belt.

  “You’re not … really—”

  Then — in one quick move — he slid down his good friend’s trousers.

  To complete the humiliation.

  “Ta-da,” said Marcus.

  Then the best man clapped a hand around Josh’s shoulder. “I do believe our work is done here, mate. Catch you — as they say — on the flipside!”

  And then Marcus turned and started walking away.

  Josh looked right at Ryan as if seeking a reprieve from this ridiculous predicament.

  “Guys, I don’t feel so well …”

  But then Gary hoisted up the bag of golf clubs and said, “C’mon Ryan. Getting late. Chilly too.”

  And with final shake of his head, Ryan turned and walked away.

  Telling himself.

  How bad could it be?

  He had heard of far more extreme stunts perpetrated on grooms-to-be.

  This would turn out fine.

  They’d all be laughing about it in the pub tomorrow night, the wedding still days away.

  Least that’s what he thought.

  3. The Morning After

  Ryan woke up, the bed sheets twisted all around his body.

  He hadn’t got smashed last night, but he certainly had consumed enough when they’d got back into Cherringham to guarantee a nice, long sleep.

  Now, sun glinted through the window into this creaky room in The Bell Hotel.

  Marcus and Gary were staying with mates who lived near Cherringham. Ryan though had decided to splash out on a hotel room and take in some of the famous Cotswold charm he heard so much about.

  All leading up to the big day for Josh and his fiancé, Lauren, in St. James Church, whose steeple could be seen from the glistening window.

  But the first thing he noticed was the clock radio on a dresser, an old-school item that wouldn’t cut it in any trendy London hotel.

  Where do I plug my iPod in?

  And what he saw … was the time.

  After ten.

  He picked up his phone.

  He had — they all had — expected outraged calls, maybe even threats from Josh, freed from his coils.