Midnight Sun (standard:mystery, 1113 words)
Author: Cyrano	Added: Nov 25 2008	Views/Reads: 4201/2392	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Daniel Blake returned from work to find his wife had not returned home...she didn't return the next day or the next. Daniel feared for her safety. No belongings were missing and the weeks went by. Those weeks became months, then a year...till...

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it is only a matter of time before the whole town, and therefore the 
golf club, will be limping. He steels himself and drains the remnants 
of coffee. The telephone rings, taking him away from his thoughts. 

Out on the course, two players competing for the prestigious Chevrolet
Cup, stand on the sixteenth tee. A par three over creek. They appear to 
be debating the point of a balls entry. The concentrated debate over 
the rules is frustrating the following group, standing on the tee and 
making gestures.  From the time they drove off the first tee Daniel has 
eaten breakfast, driven from home, spent an hour on the practice 
ground, glanced through the San Francisco Chronicle, taken morning 
coffee, and is now contemplating lunch. From his seat, through the 
large plate glass window he observes a small group of men braced 
against the stiff westerly. The rain has passed over. Daniel has as 
much interest in the progress of the match as the seagulls spiralling 
overhead. Suffice to say, he had posted the draw on the notice board in 
early spring and now, on this blustery Saturday, the competition is 
reaching its conclusion. Between times he was eliminated in the first 
round to the tune of seven and six, by a seventy five year old with a 
half set of clubs playing off a handicap of twenty-eight who could call 
on the use of only one sound leg. 

Sadie enters the office, looking ashen. Suddenly there is a thunderous
noise. A helicopter chops low over the clubhouse and hovers above the 
golfers on the sixteenth fairway. 

“What the hell....” Daniel says, standing up to the window. 

“Daniel, there's an officer here to see you.” 

“An officer?” 

“Detective Brisbane. Shall I show him in?” 

“It's landing. What on earth...yes, yes, show him in...it looks like
some kind of emergency landing.” 

“There's no emergency, Mr. Blake. I'm afraid we have a body in the
creek.” Tells a tall thickset man, southern accent pronounced, standing 
in the doorway. 

Daniel's legs give way and he staggers to his chair. 

“Body?” He repeats, the word cotton wool in his throat. 

Sadie weeps uncontrollably. 


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