‘Yes. We’d like to talk to you about Dennis Wade and Edward Kilpatrick. Are you familiar with those names?’

‘I am.’ He was pompous in his response and Palmer took an instant dislike to him.

‘Are both men members?’

‘Dennis has been coming to the club for years, but he’s a fair-weather golfer. Only comes in the spring and summer months.’ Palmer wondered if Tim Boyd knew that Dennis Wade had been killed.

‘And Edward Kilpatrick?’

‘Now there is a blast from the past.’ Tim wiped his forehead again. ‘A name I’ve not heard for a while. He used to be a member, back in the nineties. A regular, he was, but then he just stopped playing and one year didn’t renew his membership. I pride myself on knowing all our customers.’ His smugness was leaking out of his skin.

‘But Mr Wade remains a member?’

‘Well, he was until someone sent him up to heaven,’ Tim said turning red in the face. Palmer sat there stunned. This man had no idea how to conduct himself. ‘Can I get you a tea or coffee?’ Tim turned to face Joan, his chair squeaking below his heavy frame.

‘Not for me.’ Palmer didn’t want to extend the interview any longer than necessary.

‘Tea would be lovely,’ Elly replied, much to Palmer’s frustration.

‘Two teas, Joan,’ Tim called across the room. ‘Now where were we…’

‘Dennis Wade,’ Palmer said flatly.

‘Ah yes. It’s been quite the talk of the club.’ Tim’s beady little eyes shone in his face. ‘It’s not everyday someone you know is murdered.’

‘Did you know him well?’ Elly asked.

‘We’d have a chat from time to time, but I can’t say I knew him exactly. He seemed like a nice sort. He was good with all his volunteering and helpful to the community.’

‘Volunteering?’ Palmer’s ears pricked up.

‘Yes, you know. His charity work, the scouts and all that.’

‘Scouts?’

Tim frowned at Palmer, irritated that he was being mirrored. ‘Yes, for a time I believe Dennis was a scout leader.’

‘I see.’ Palmer jotted this down on his pad. ‘And what about his relationship with Edward Kilpatrick?’

‘Eddie and Dennis would often play golf together. I think they met through the club but I can’t be certain.’ A bead of sweat travelled slowly down the side of Tim’s face. ‘One day Eddie just stopped coming. I’m not one to pry.’

Palmer doubted that was true. ‘Do you have any club records anywhere?’

‘Of course we do,’ he snarled just as Joan appeared carrying a tray with two cups on it.

‘I’ll need to see those.’ Palmer stared at him coldly.

‘What about Wendy Matlock? Does that name sound familiar?’ Elly asked.

‘No.’ Tim took his cup off the tray.