Death by Seven Iron

Extract

Although it was still early morning, a stuffy heat already lay draped over the city. David walked out on to the roof terrace of his apartment on the sixth floor of a modern residential building and let his eyes wander over the roofs of Edinburgh.
It had rained for a couple of hours the night before. David had hoped that the rain would cool things down a bit, but the first rays of the intense August sun were already causing the cool night to evaporate rapidly. He breathed in the smell of the damp earth in the massive flower tubs and sipped at a small cup of strong black coffee. The lush greenery, a sunbed, comfortable garden chairs and a round teak table lent the terrace a Mediterranean flair. On weekends, this was the ideal place to spend a companionable evening with friends around a barbeque.
David smoothed his brown hair back and narrowed his green eyes slightly to shield them from the blinding sun. From this position he had a magnificent view of the old city. In the distance a church spire stretched high up into the cloudless sky.
It would be another hot day. David still had a few minutes to spare before heading off to work and he was looking forward to his pleasantly air-conditioned office. In his mind, he planned what he had to accomplish that day. He had a heavy workload to get through, but that didn’t scare him. He enjoyed his work, and when things got hectic he was always able to keep a clear head. And he was fortunate enough to work with an outstanding team.
David glanced at the clock; it was time for him to set off. He finished his coffee and went back into his apartment, letting the terrace door snap shut behind him.
A wide spiral staircase wound its way down from a balcony into the spacious living area. Parquet flooring had been laid in the three rooms, creating a light, pleasant ambience. The front part of the living room housed an eating nook with a long, wooden table and high backed wooden chairs. In keeping with this style there was a massive, dark brown sideboard. At the back of the room was a comfortable seating area for relaxing in front of the fireplace. The living room led into the other two rooms of the apartment, David’s study and the bedroom. The kitchen and bathroom led off from a small entrance hall.
While David made his way down the staircase, he thought of his wife Emma, who was currently in New York. It was still the middle of the night there; Emma would certainly be fast asleep. Today was her big day. Emma’s friend Kate ran a small, exquisite art gallery in New York and had organised an exhibition of Emma’s paintings. David’s wife was on her way to becoming a recognised artist. During her visit to the States, Emma was staying with her friend in her New York apartment.
At home in Edinburgh, Emma rented her own studio on a former factory floor. Practically every day she travelled there to work.
David stood in front of the large painting that hung over the mantelpiece in the living room. Emma had given it to him for Christmas the previous year. The picture was in shades of orange and brown and showed a golfer about to take his swing. On closer inspection, the golfer bore a resemblance to David, which was obviously Emma’s intention. His athletic physique was well portrayed in the painting. The golfer’s peaked cap was pulled far down over his head, his masculine facial features captured in profile. He was looking down in concentration. The stance was so realistic that it was like a snapshot taken in the middle of the movement. In the background, the sun was disappearing behind a hill, bathing the scene in a warm, golden light.
David had been completely overwhelmed by the gift. “Do I really cut such a dashing figure on the golf course?” he’d asked jokingly.
He marvelled at his wife’s talent and was glad about her success.
The opening was to take place that evening. David deeply regretted not being able to be there, but his company was about to launch a new product on the market, which meant his boss couldn’t do without him. Emma understood it.
David sighed. Although she’d left only two days ago, he missed his wife. He missed her laugh, her warmth, her cheerfulness. Without her, the apartment seemed empty and cold. He closed his eyes briefly and pictured Emma gracefully moving through it, adjusting a few things here and there with her beautiful hands. He imagined himself walking behind her, embracing her and burying his nose in her fragrant, honey blonde hair. In ten days time she’d be back with him.
He put his cup down on the counter in their luxuriously fitted kitchen. Once in his study, he took a couple of documents from his desk and stowed them in his briefcase.
The room was modestly yet elegantly furnished. A functional desk with a greenish, gleaming glass top stood in the centre of the room. The light grey desk chair was fitted with a tilting mechanism for optimal seating comfort. Spanning the longitudinal wall of the room were rows of bookshelves arranged to create a visual effect of aluminium combined with glass. Two of Emma’s beautiful watercolours adorned the opposite wall.
After David had made sure that he had everything he needed, he left his apartment and took the lift down to the ground floor.
A small car park with a number of spaces formed part of the residential complex. David’s car, a BMW, was ready to start in one of the first of the marked bays. silver grey, cleaned by the downpour, the car shone and gleamed in the sun. In a good mood, David turned on the radio. The local news was reporting the murder of a young woman who’d been beaten to death by her jealous boyfriend.
“My God, how dreadful!” David cried inadvertently. His mood abruptly dampened, he turned the volume down. It was inconceivable to him that someone could do such a thing out of jealousy. Yet you heard time and again of cases of domestic violence; the phenomenon was in no way unusual. He sighed deeply and felt sorry for the young woman’s relatives. How terrible it would be if something like that were to happen in his circle of friends. It was unimaginable.
He didn’t want to think about it any more and concentrated on the traffic. Luckily it was moving quickly. The fact that it was the holiday period was noticeable – the volume of morning traffic had decreased considerably.
David arrived early at his place of work, the company Palmer & Partner. He bounced through the entrance to the building and cheerfully wished the receptionist a good morning. She beamed back at him, but at the same time had to reach for the phone because an outside call was coming in. “I’m sorry, Mr Palmer isn’t in yet,” David heard her say. “Can I give him a message or would you prefer to call back?”
David nodded once more at the receptionist and made his way to his office. Going through a glass door, he entered a narrow corridor from which offices led to the left and right. At the end of the passageway on the right hand side was David’s office. A sign near the door identified him as ‘Head of Marketing’.
David liked the bright, welcoming room with its wide windows. A pair of pot plants gave the room a cosy feel, and on the wall opposite David’s desk hung one of Emma’s abstract paintings. The basic colours of green and blue, blended into each other with flowing movements, had a calming effect on the viewer. When it became stressful at work, David would always take some time out to lean back in his chair and gaze at the painting. Even after only a few minutes, he’d feel relaxed and able to get back to his work with a clear mind.
David’s secretary, Emily Barnett, came in and brought him a cup of coffee and the mail. David had tried unsuccessfully in the past to explain to her that he could fetch his own coffee. “It’s not part of your job description to cater for me,” he’d said. Mrs Barnett wouldn’t hear anything of the sort. She’d been working at the company for years. She was open-minded to the many changes that had taken place over time, yet on this point, she was adamant. “I always did it for your predecessor,” she explained to David. “And I have no intention of changing things. How do you like your coffee, with milk and sugar?”
Sighing, David had relented, but it was still embarrassing for him to be waited on by her. He thanked her heartily and began to go through his mail.
Half an hour later, Mark knocked on David’s office door and entered the room jauntily.
“Hello David, have you heard?” Mark greeted him.
David interrupted his work for a moment and indicated to Mark to take a seat. “No, I haven’t, but I’m sure you’re going to tell me.” He liked the spontaneous, open way in which his friend related to people.