Authors: B A Trimmer
“Well, then I have some good news for you. Tony is willing to meet with you today. He’s playing the Kokopelli course at the Blue Palms. One of his meetings canceled and he has three holes open, the tenth, eleventh, and twelfth. We’ll be starting at the tenth hole about noon. You do play golf, don’t you?”
Shit, I have to meet with Tough Tony.
“Umm, I do, but it’s been a while. I’ll need to dig my clubs out.”
OK, so it’s been like five years since I touched a club. Shit, shit, shit.
“Don’t worry about being a little rusty. A lot of the people who meet with Tony on the course haven’t played in a while either. No need to search for your clubs. I’ll have a set of ladies clubs for you. Standard right-handed, I assume?”
“You seem to know all about me. Can I assume you’ll be there too?”
“Yes, I always try to go out when Tony plays. Usually to be the referee in case discussions start to get out of hand.”
“Does that happen a lot?”
“Almost never. That’s why I’m there. I’ve been told I can have a calming influence.”
You? Calming?
“No,” I said. “I haven’t seen that at all. In fact, you seem to have the opposite effect with me.”
“Coming around to my way of thinking? I like that. Should I make us reservations for a beach resort? I’m thinking maybe Puerto Vallarta. Next weekend?”
Oh, yum!
“It’s kinda hard for me to plan ahead,” I said. “So, maybe a rain-check on that. Where should I meet you?”
“Go to golf valet and they’ll take you to us. I assume you’ll be driving the same car?”
As he said the last, I could hear the smile in his voice.
“Jerk. Yes, I’ll be driving the same car. It runs and it’s paid for.”
“OK, ok, sorry. See you at noon.”
~~~~
After a long shower, which included ten minutes of quality time with the shower massager, I spent the next thirty minutes in a futile attempt to find something to wear.
To me, the most frustrating aspect of golf is there is absolutely no dress code. In fact, golfers always seem to go out of their way to find the most outrageous and horrible things to wear. It is perfectly acceptable, and even encouraged, to wear, say, bright green plaid pants with a solid purple shirt and a red beret. The more the styles and colors clash, the more acceptable it is. I’ve even seen golfers mix stripes and plaids without a second thought. This, of course, drives me crazy. I’ve never liked dressing like a clown on the golf course, but I also like to fit into the spirit of the game.
After half an hour, I had a substantial pile of clothes on my bed, which Marlowe had decided would make a good place to take a nap. I finally decided on a pair of loose fitting white mid-length shorts and a pale pink polo. I wanted to keep to a shirt with a collar, since some of the courses encourage collars, as their one fleeting attempt to have some sort of a dress standard. Of course, since I would be playing with the guy who owned the course, I didn’t think they would be too rigid about not letting me play, collar or not.
~~~~
As I drove up Scottsdale Road to the Blue Palms resort, I couldn’t help but be nervous. In two of my previous three meetings with Tough Tony DiCenzo, there had been violence and even death. I was hoping on a golf course, on a beautiful spring day in Scottsdale, the violence and bloodshed would be held to a minimum.
I pulled into the Scottsdale Blue Palms resort. It was beautiful with palm trees, citrus trees, bougainvilleas, oleanders, bird-of-paradise, lantana, and tropical plants of every description. The thick grass was expertly manicured, the landscaping was graceful, and the buildings looked pristine.
The main hotel reception building was on a small hill, surrounded by restaurants, pools, and a small water park. An enormous conference center was located further back from the reception building. The main clubhouse and pro-shop sat on a hill of its own in the distance.
Groupings of white hotel rooms, each with orange awnings, were in four story clusters everywhere on the property. All of the hotel rooms had large enclosed blue balconies, with some overlooking the golf courses and some overlooking one of the many swimming pools. People everywhere were driving around in shiny blue golf carts.
There are three golf courses at the Blue Palms -- the Hohokam, the Anasazi, and the Kokopelli. The Hohokam and Kokopelli are the two original courses. Both of them start, turn, and finish at the main clubhouse. The Anasazi is the newest course and has its own clubhouse, about a quarter of a mile away. Of the three, the Kokopelli is considered to be the hardest and is usually used whenever a tournament is held at the resort.
I followed the signs to the golf valet, where a uniformed man opened my door, and led me to a waiting golf cart. Here, another uniformed man drove me to Mulligan’s, a beautiful bar and grill located about fifty yards from the main clubhouse.
As I walked into Mulligan’s, I saw it had been set up for golfers coming in from the front nine and those preparing to play the back nine. There were about thirty people in the place, all laughing, talking, drinking, and eating.
The building itself was a large round semi-enclosed ramada with vines growing through the open sides and roof. In the center was an open-air grille where chefs in white coats were grilling burgers, steaks, ribs, and chicken. All of the food was giving off an amazing charcoal aroma.
Toward the back of the ramada was a bar where two smiling men in blue Aloha shirts were making cocktails and fruit drinks. On a small stage to the side, a three-piece band was playing a light Mexican swing. It was a wonderfully calming environment, no doubt set up to help the golfers relax before they went back out, but it was also helping me steady my nerves before my meeting with Tony.
About ten minutes after noon, I heard the distinctive voice of Tony DiCenzo as he made his way to the ramada. I also noticed the activity of the staff had risen up a notch with everybody doing their best to look busy. It seems Tough Tony has this effect on everybody.
Thirty seconds later, there was the grating of golf shoes as Tony and Max came into the grill. Max had a broad smile and even Tony seemed to be in a good mood.
Unlike the loud outfits of some golfers, they were both dressed rather conservatively. Tony had on tan slacks and a salmon shirt while Max had on cream slacks and a light blue shirt. Tony saw me, came over, and extended his hand.
Tony DiCenzo was only slightly taller than I was, but he was solid and built like a bull. He had a round pockmarked face, a large bulbous nose, and piercing dark eyes. As I remembered from our previous meetings, his black and gray hair was short and slicked straight back. He had the tanned skin of a man living and golfing year-round in the desert. I knew from news reports he was somewhere in his late fifties, but seeing him walking towards me, he had all of the energy of a much younger man.
“Laura Black,” he said as we shook hands, “It’s nice to see you again. I’m glad an opening occurred so we could get together today. From what Max says, you’ve been having an interesting week. If you’re ready, let’s head out to the course where we can talk.”
We walked out to the cart path and to our waiting carts. Instead of the usual two person golf carts, there were two huge six-person carts waiting for us. One was green and one was red.
The drivers of the carts were Milo and Johnny Scarpazzi. I recognized them both from my previous meetings with Tony. Johnny was in his early fifties and had the look of an ex-NFL lineman. Like Tony, Johnny’s short dark hair was slicked straight back. Milo was in his late twenties. Where Johnny was huge, Milo was merely very large. He had a short flattop cut and a bright gold front tooth. Johnny was driving the red cart, were Tony and I headed. Milo was driving the green one that Max climbed into.
Sitting in the red cart next to Johnny was a woman that I knew only as Gabriella. She is somewhere in her thirty’s. She’s tall, athletic, and graceful. She has pale white skin, long straight black hair, blood red painted lips, and piercing blue eyes. As with the last time I saw her, I wanted to describe her as beautiful, but there was something cold and dead about her eyes that sent a shiver of fear down my spine. She has the dangerous eyes of a predator, constantly searching, and on the lookout for prey.
I had seen her twice before. Both times, she had been acting as a bodyguard for Tony. The second time I saw her, she ended up gunning down some seriously bad men and I had been happy to have her on my side. This time, I would have been just as happy if she had decided not to join us. As with the last two times I had seen her, she was dressed in tight black leather and her top was open to expose an eyeful of overly enhanced cleavage. It added to her look of danger.
I glanced around the cart as Johnny drove us to the tee boxes. Between the two seats in the back was a large built-in cooler. I lifted the lid and saw there was a full selection of beer, wine, and soft drinks, including half a dozen cans of Diet Pepsi.
“You’ve noticed I like to golf with some rather large and unusual carts,” DiCenzo said as we drove. “They’re good for conducting business, plus I like that my people can see when I am coming. Although I don’t want to give anybody a complete schedule of my movements, of course, I also don’t want to startle any of my employees. I want people to be ready when I visit them as they work. I’ve noticed if I show up unannounced, there tends to be accidents.”
~~~~
We got to the tenth hole, a long par five that had a dogleg left, which meant the green was hidden from the tee. There were four tee boxes. Tony said he and Max would be hitting in from the third tee box back and he offered me one of the closer boxes. I said no, I’d hit from the same box as them. Tony then gave me a slightly strange look I wasn’t sure how to interpret.
I went to the back of the cart and found a set of Lady Ping’s in a white leather bag. I pulled out the driver and it looked brand new. It had been a while since I’d held a new golf club and it felt great. I took a deep breath and walked to the tee box.
I hit first, trying to ignore the fact that four men, and maybe even Gabriella, were looking at my ass. The distance was OK, but I sliced it a little. All things considered, it was a good first shot. My time away from the game was showing.
Tony then stepped up and hit a nice shot. His ball went straight down the fairway and his distance was good.
Max next stepped up and unloaded on the ball. Tony and I watched as his ball soared into the air, straight down the fairway, further and further, until it was lost from sight. I was amazed at the shot, but Tony didn’t seem to think this was anything unusual.
Max said he would go down the fairway to find his ball and took off with Milo in his cart. Tony and I walked down the fairway, while Johnny drove the red cart a respectful thirty yards behind us.
“Max hit an amazing shot,” I said, blurting out the first thing that popped into my head. My nerves were still getting to me and I wasn’t sure how to start asking Tony about Jackie and the kidnapping. “Most of the golfers I’ve known wouldn’t purposefully outdrive their boss like that. At least not very often.”
“Max is a scratch golfer and he could have easily gone pro,” Tony said, apparently not minding my indirect approach. “You know, I’ve never beaten him at golf. Someday I hope to. But when I do, I know it will be because I’ve truly beaten him. You see, I’ve never needed an ass kisser who would let me win so my self-esteem would somehow stay high. Matter of fact, one of the reasons Max and me get along so well is because of our first meeting, which happened to be on a golf course. I was still in the process of learning the game back then but we still bet each other twenty dollars a hole. I told myself I would find out what the kid was made of. Now, understand he knew my position in the organization. Max also knew he was on a sort of informal job interview. Still, he beat me fifteen holes to none with three ties. It cost me three hundred dollars to find someone who would be honest with me, without all the bullshit. We’ve been working together ever since.”
Apparently, Tony liked to walk the course rather than take the cart. I didn’t mind. It gave us more of a chance to talk, which was probably as Tony had intended. As we got to our balls, Johnny pulled up even with us on the cart path and we both retrieved a club from the bags on the back of the cart. Tony and I both hit decent shots from the fairway and both of our balls landed a little short of where Max’s first shot had landed.
“It’s kind of funny the job interview happened on the golf course,” I said as we walked. “Seems like an odd place for business.”
“Not at all. Matter a fact, I hold most of my important meetings on the course. It helps me see the other person as they truly are. Do they get overly pissed off when they hit a bad shot, how closely do they choose to follow the rules of golf, even if they will cheat just to win a hole. Besides, these courses are some of the most beautiful places on the earth. I make it a habit to walk every course in every resort I own as often as my schedule allows. I like to make sure everything is up to my standards. Everyone who works here knows I’ll be on the lookout for something amiss. It’s their job to see I don’t find anything.”
Max and Tony hit onto the green, while my ball flew over and landed in a sand trap about twenty yards past it. Max again took off with Milo while Tony and I walked to the green.
“Tony,” I said as we walked. “I guess Max told you I’m looking into the kidnapping of Jackie Wade. Roger Wade was her husband and he was murdered sometime last week. I’ve learned Roger was heavily invested in some of the Scottsdale resorts and the control of these resorts will probably go to Jackie. Do you have any idea who would want to kill him or why anyone would want to frame Jackie for it? I get the feeling whoever is responsible for those things is also involved in the kidnapping. I’ve reached nothing but dead ends in where to find her.”