He straightened up and faced her with one hand on his hip and the other aiming his club at her face.

"You are in huge trouble young lady."

"Sir, did you hear what I said?"

Clifford strode toward her, stopping and leaning forward, inches from her face.

"There is no matter in this universe more important than my golf game and now that you have interrupted that rule I'm going to have your ass in jail and your finances stripped away with a massive fine." His eyes glittered and his lips drew back over his teeth.

"Before you start swinging your big club, Mr. Whyst, you should know that your wife is a wanted felon and I am here gathering the last bit of information that will be used in court back where she came from."

Clifford's eyes glazed and then refocused. "What did you say?"

"You heard. I came here as a courtesy to inform you about the woman you married, before notifying the authorities."

"Come with me." Clifford took her and hustled her over to his golf cart, turned it around and sped down the track leaving his companions shouting after him in vain. The ride progressed in silence and Mindy took the opportunity to study the rigid profile. Clifford Whyst was not a happy camper.

**********************

Gordon was saved from a dressing down after his faux pas, by the ringing of the telephone, which he snatched up with relief, shrugging at Deborah.

"Posada de Jardines, good morning." He listened for a moment then opened the booking binder and checked the available dates, penciled in a stretch of four nights beginning Monday and asked for a credit card number.

"That's a couple named Harris for four nights in number six. They're coming in tomorrow." He grinned hopefully at Deborah. "That makes our decision about Puela a good one, eh? I'll go out and give her the good news."

"Wonderful." She started to leave when the phone rang again. Gordon answered and gave a triumphant nod toward her.

"Three nights next weekend. Looking forward to meeting you, Mrs. Kramer." He entered the booking then replaced the receiver with deliberation and smiled smugly at Deborah.

"Don't press your luck, Hardy. I'm getting lunch." She left and he laced his fingers, giving a silent cheer. Puela was putting away the last of the cleaning supplies and he went out to the patio, intercepting her and explaining the good news. She lit up like a Christmas tree and gave him a huge hug, which Gordon accepted with restraint. The sisters had just come out of their room and both stopped short, witnessing the embrace between the management and the help.

Puela danced away and Gordon gave a meek wave to his frowning audience before hurrying back inside.

"We have a happy maid and a confused and concerned pair of sisters." He explained what happened and they shared a laugh as they sat down to lunch. He was happy to see Deborah had gotten past any need to argue and they enjoyed their sandwiches and a glass of wine with some relaxed teasing.

*********************

The valet scurried to assist and was nearly run over as Clifford roared up in the golf cart, stopping it against the bottom step of the clubhouse. He grabbed his putter and climbed out, ignoring the dodging valet and pointed at Mindy to get inside. She complied but not quickly enough and he grabbed her arm and steered her through the lobby, ignoring this time the desk manager, who was gaping at Mindy in disbelief.

Clifford dragged her into the lounge and slammed the door behind them.

"Not a word!" He commanded when he saw she was going to protest, and marched straight to the bar and poured a large glass of brandy. His eyes fixed on her through the bottom of the glass as he drained it in one huge swallow.

"Now, repeat what you said carefully and slowly."

Mindy eyed the putter he was swinging in short arcs at his side and chose a position near a large armchair.

"My name is Mindy Cowls, I am a private investigator from Wickville, Kansas. My client, the Path of Our Follower Church and Benevolent Organization, tasked me with finding the woman who stole the funds collected for the construction of a new retreat. That woman was Jeannette Zarkowski, and now Whyst. I will be informing the local authorities and direct them to place her under arrest for extradition back to Kansas. Coming here to see you was a courtesy gesture to inform you in advance and to encourage your cooperation."

He swung his putter in a slow arc and then stood leaning on it.

"You actually expect me to assist you in having my wife arrested and exposed as a common thief?"

"Well since she is-- yes." Mindy raised her chin and stared back at him. Clifford made another phantom putt and leaned against the bar.

"How much did this alleged theft amount to?"

"Several thousand dollars and it is not alleged."

"I'll write you a check for ten and you can take your feisty little ass back to Kansas and forget about bothering me again."

Mindy's face turned red and she clenched her fists at her side, watching him perform another faux putt.

"Alright, alright. I'll make it twenty then you can just bugger off."

"You can make it twenty million for all I care, Mister Whyst. I can not be bought like some cheesy little toy golf stick."

Clifford's head snapped up and his eyes blinked rapid fire. "What? What did you say?"

"You heard me. I'm leaving now and I'm going straight to the police to present my report."

"Cheesy little toy golf stick!" He held it up as if to present it to her, his eyes glazing dangerously.

Mindy skirted the chair and made a dash for the door, hearing the growing roar from the lounge behind her.

"Hey! What's going on?" The desk manager raised a warning hand as she scooted past, out the door and down the steps.

The valet bounced up to her wringing his hands.

"What did you do? What did he say?"

"Get my car, hurry!" She looked back as Clifford came, stiff-legged through the clubhouse doors, face suffused in scarlet and the putter waving like a baton.

"Oh God! What have you done?"

Mindy shoved him down the drive, yelling for her car, and moments later watched in her rear view mirror as the valet took several blows to his back and side from the irate Clifford's putter.