Surprise on the Links E-Book

Roxana Nastase

• Herausgeber: Roxana Nastase
• Kategorie: Krimi
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2021

Beschreibung

Crime, politics, and romance make for strange bedfellows.

It’s a cool morning in Scotland. An inveterate golfer has the surprise to stumble over a body hidden near the tree line. Promptly, he loses his early breakfast, which is not a surprise. The police are called, and the chase begins.

McNamara is on the hunt again, and James is right there with him. What surprises will the finish line bring?
Join in McNamara’s hunt and enjoy the ride!

Leseprobe

SURPRISE

ON THE LINKS

––––––––

ROXANA NASTASE

Book Four

in the series

McNamara

Table of Contents

Title Page

SCARLET LEAF | 2021

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTET SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHPATER TWENTY-FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

CHAPTER THIRTY

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

AUTHOR’S BIOGRAPHY

BOOKS BY ROXANA NASTASE

Further Reading: A Change of Heart

SCARLET LEAF

2021

© 2021 by ROXANA NASTASE

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the author, with the exception of a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed in a newspaper, magazine or journal.

All characters in this book are fictive, and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, places or events is coincidental.

Disclaimer  

The book doesn’t portray the Scottish police system, even though there are similarities.

Toronto, Canada

To Andrei - a straight arrow, and more importantly, a very close friend, someone you can rely on.

The fact that he also reads my books is only the cherry on top.

A heartfelt thank you to you, Andrei.

CHAPTER ONE

His desire to strangle Angus Murray became stronger. But then, he thought that, probably, a club to the head would make it faster and more satisfying. Anyway, regardless of the method, Angus would finally shut up, blessing him with silence.

Lachlan MacDonald pushed his hat back and wiped his sweaty forehead with a swift gesture. It might have been early in the day, but the man had already had enough. MacDonald looked at his companion sideways and shook his head with dismay.

It was high time that someone had stopped the running mouth of that fellow. Angus Murray had always had the reputation of a dour man, but then, he had been getting grumpier with age.

Like a bear with a thorn in his paw, Murray had been grumbling since the two of them started their usual game of golf at six-thirty that morning. Far from being shy, Murray complained about everything under the sun. Mostly, he griped because MacDonald moved like an old woman with arthritis, overthinking everything too much and making him waste precious time. As always, Angus did not care that his attitude drove Lachlan mad in the process.

Lachlan wiped his forehead once more, pursing his lips and scrunching his nose with displeasure. His brows had knitted above his thick, beck-like nose long before the two men had reached the first hole.

Now, getting closer to the twelfth hole, MacDonald was already mentally exhausted. The man yearned for a place in the shadow to down a cold beer and to lean back and kick off his shoes in a manner of speaking. He could already hear people clamouring in the distance. Soon, the green would be overwhelmed with players, and that would anger Angus more.

Angus and Lachlan had been friends since the beginning of time, some sixty years before, so Lachlan knew the cantankerous elderly man better than the back of his palm. Why, just the other day, a new brownish spot had appeared on his hand, and Lachlan did not remember to have seen it before.

After over forty years of shaking his head and trying not to pay too close attention to his companion, MacDonald had finally reached his breaking point. The pressure inside his skill threatened to erupt, and the impulse to hurl insults to Murray at his turn became so intense that it was painful.

Angus sent his ball near the bushes with a long shot, and another array of curses sputtered off the lips of the grumpy old man. With heavy steps, he followed the ball to the shrubbery.  

There, Angus leaned forward for a few seconds and then stumbled back a couple of steps. The cap flew off his head because of the sudden recoil, and then, he threw the club to the ground. He started spewing the nastiest curse words he had ever uttered.

Wide-eyed, Lachlan watched Angus from afar, not understanding what had gotten into the man now. It was not the first time that Angus had to play his ball from the shrubs.

It was not an easy shot, but Lachlan knew that Angus could do it. The old man was an accomplished golf player. It would have been hard not to be after so many years of practicing on the green.

Lachlan took a step in the direction of his friend with the thought to calm him down. However, his preservation spirit stopped him in his tracks almost immediately. Angus behaved like a raging lunatic. It was far from wise to get into his space right then.

A few moments later, to his surprise, Angus hurled the contents of his early breakfast into the scarce grass that outlined the patch of bushes and sands. The retching noise prompted Lachlan to press the back of his hand to his lips, afraid that he would follow his friend’s example.

When there was nothing else left to throw up, Angus wiped his mouth with his sleeve, and then he put his hands on his hips, shaking his head in disbelief. Only afterwards, the man shoved his fingers through his hair with a nervous gesture and turned toward Lachlan.  

“Have you got that damn mobile phone of yours with you, Lachlan?” he inquired, watching his friend sideways.

“Aye,” the man replied after a brief hesitation. Lachlan remembered well that Angus showed a raging mistrust of mobiles, and that morning, he did not feel like listening to another lecture about them from his friend. It might have amused him in the beginning, but that show had grown old after a while.

“Then show me that you know how to use it and call the police. There’s a dead guy in there,” the man tilted his head towards the shrubs.

For a few seconds, Lachlan stared at the man with confusion. He noticed that Angus had lost any colour in her face, and his fingers shook on his hips.

Lachlan had heard his words quite well, but that did not mean that he had also grasped their meaning. With some apprehension, he took two steps in his friend’s direction again, turning his right ear towards Angus. Lately, Lachlan had experienced some loss of hearing in his left ear and now needed to make sure that he did not imagine things.

“What do you mean?” Lachlan asked Angus with dread, wiping off his wet forehead with the back of his hand.

“What I’ve just said, mate,” the man retorted in a heated tone of voice. His brows curved up onto his forehead, and he tilted his head towards the shrub once more. “It’s a stiff in there. Call the damn police,” Angus raised his voice, rebuking his friend, and the steel in his eyes glinted with anger and fear.

Angus had recognised the body in the bushes, even though it missed half of the face. Someone had taken a club to the dead guy’s face and had not stopped until they were sure that they had done a bloody good job.

Angus swallowed hard as his throat suddenly dried up. He had no doubt about the questions the police would ask him.

There had not been any lost love between the dead man and Angus Murray, and anyone would vouch for that. If the man pondered the relationship between the dead man and himself better, quite the opposite, in fact.

CHAPTER TWO

James filled his mug to the rim with black coffee and then leaned his hip on the edge of the desk. His eyes stared out of the window, but his thoughts were on the schedule open on the desk. Nothing important seemed to be on the agenda, and it was only eight-thirty in the morning.

Absent-mindedly, the Detective Sergeant brought the mug to his lips. He sipped some of the hot liquid, even though he was not in the mood to have another cup of coffee that morning. Still, things had been a little slower than usual that summer and boredom did not invite him to do anything else.

Mentally, James calculated that McNamara was supposed to return to work the following day. Immediately, his eyes swept over everything in the office, and the man sighed with dismay.

The Detective Sergeant remembered that the Chief Inspector liked things in a certain way, and James did not have a death wish. He did not feel like being scolded the very day when the Chief Inspector returned from his honeymoon.

James shook his head, and a grin curved his lips. The Chief Inspector and honeymoon did not belong in the same sentence. He, for one, had never believed that McNamara would ever end up married and was sure that none of his colleagues have thought that either.

The Chief Inspector had never shown any particular inclination towards the women who sporadically visited his bed. The man mastered the talent of dissociating any feelings from the physical act of love.

Consequently, people still did not understand how come Bryony had managed to change his mind. Everyone questioned the methods that the woman had employed to achieve that goal. With a shake of his head, the Detective Sergeant remembered that even rumours mentioning witchcraft had reached his ears. 

However, his boss had proved to all of them that one should avoid forming definite opinions about people’s behaviours. Sometimes, a person would react out of character and would surprise others when they expected less.

Still, James knew that he could not let his guard down right then. He was smart enough to understand that getting married had mellowed McNamara somehow, but that did not mean that the chief inspector would overlook certain transgressions.

Finding his office changed slightly would drive McNamara mad, and undoubtedly, James would suffer the consequences. The Detective Sergeant was not a betting man, but he would bet on occasion when the result seemed unquestionable. That was the case right then.

Fortunately, the man had thought of taking photos of the office when he started to work there after the Chief Detective Inspector left on his first vacation in years. The Detective Sergeant had imagined that things might get moved around during those two weeks of McNamara’s leave, and he had not trusted his own memory.

Glancing again around the room, the man decided that, that evening, he had to look over those photos and put everything back in the original place.

A knock on the office door pulled James out of his musings, and the man turned, saying, “Come in.”

Jo, one of the Detective Inspectors, opened the door but did not come in. “We have got a murder, James,” she announced with excitement in her voice, and the man’s brows hiked up onto his forehead.

The DS understood that people wanted to keep active and had had enough of pushing papers around all day long. But then, James did not understand to show excitement when a crime had taken place.

“I see,” he said, straightening his shoulders, ready to impart his opinion about the woman’s attitude. But then, he thought better, and with a shake of his head, asked, “Where?”

“At the links,” the young Detective Inspector replied, with a twinkle in her eyes. It was evident for the DS that the woman relished the thought of going out in the field.

“All right,” James sighed with resignation. “I will be downstairs in a moment,” he waved his hand. “Have you called the coroner?” the man inquired while putting the mug back onto the desk and taking his coat off the back of his chair.

“Of course, I did,” the woman replied tersely, affronted that the DS believed that she did not know what she had to do.

After all, that was not her first show in the business. Jo had been working with the Major Investigation Teams for a few years already. She prided herself on being one of the best detective inspectors in the field. McNamara appreciated her skills and work, and sometimes, even above all the other detectives, which often led to jealousy and recriminations from her colleagues. 

The DS turned to Jo just in time to notice her displeasure over his words. He waved his hand, trying to find words to explain why he had asked that question, but then the man pursed his lips with a shrug. It did not really matter, after all. They had a job to do, and he could not let a few words take his focus away.

“Are you coming?” he wondered, raising one brow and looking at the DI inquiringly.

The young woman huffed but declined to express her thoughts. She contented to nod briefly in his direction, staring him down with cold eyes. Then, she went out of the office through the door the DS held open for her. 

James smiled sheepishly and shook his head. In his opinion, women liked to make a mountain out of an anthill sometimes. A man had to go with the flow. There was no way around that.

He followed Jo out in the commune room of the squad and looked around, trying to locate Claire. He was going out with the young policewoman outside work so that no one knew about their relationship.

His eyes slightly narrowed when he observed her absence from the room, and the man wondered where Claire was. They had come to the precinct together that morning, and he had expected to see her at her desk.

His brows came together, and James asked one of the inspectors, “Hey, Mike, do you know where Claire has gone?”

Mike was in the process of putting his coat on but turned towards the DS with surprise.

“How should I know?” the detective asked with an indifferent shrug. “It is not like I would keep tabs on her.” 

A faint blush covered the face and neck of the sergeant when he grasped the meaning of the detective’s words.

James had been trying hard not to show his feelings for Claire in front of the detectives, but, to his chagrin, sometimes he forgot and made a spectacle of himself.

“I was only wondering if it would be better to take her with us,” the man tried to explain his question and save face, but Mike only smirked.

“Aye, that must be it,” the detective stared at the detective sergeant meaningfully.

At the sight of the suggestive grin, tugging at the lips of the detective, James tightened his teeth. The DS would have liked to wipe the fleeting cheeky smile off the mouth of the DI. However, he knew that such an act would not go too well with his superiors, especially McNamara.

The DS did not harbour any illusions about stopping the rumours reach the CDI. It was bound that his actions would get to his ears, and James would never hear the end of it then.

“You and Jo will drive together,” the DS stated in a dry tone of voice. “I will look for Claire and follow you,” James continued.

His steely eyes drilled holes in the DI’s face, daring Mike to elaborate on what he thought about the relationship between Claire and him.

Mike was smart enough not to rise to the bait and merely nodded. Still, then he shook his head.

The DI did not understand how the DS could be so blind about the people around him. James did believe that people were unaware of the relation between him and Claire, the petite blond who just became a detective a few weeks ago. McNamara heartily recommended her for the DI position after the woman had proved her value in their last major case when they thwarted a group of terrorists.

“I suppose that Jo has already arranged for a few constables to follow us,” James added, pretending not to notice the DI’s head shake.

It was not like the DS could express what went through his head. James might have been left in charge while the DCI was away, but that did not mean Mike would react meekly before him. James wondered if the DI even knew the meaning of the word.

“That she did,” Mike said in a quiet tone of voice and nodded slowly, staring at James with unreadable eyes.

In a way, the man felt sorry for the DS. The DI could understand how the sergeant felt. After all, Mike also walked on a tight rope with Jo. He also hoped that no one would guess their involvement one with each other. However, that did not mean that the DI would tease James less if he had the chance. 

The DS pursed his lips and stared Mike down with his clear blue eyes for a few more moments, and then he turned on his heel and left the squad room.

Mike shook his head behind the sergeant, and the saucy grin flourished on his lips once more.

CHAPTER THREE

The DS got off his car and braced one arm over the car door, looking in the distance. The view before his eyes was something to behold. James shook his head slowly, and a lazy grin tugged at the corners of his mouth.

Once more, Jo had outdone herself. The DI had summoned the entire forensic team and at least six constables to the scene.

On one side of the area closed with the yellow police ribbon, several men, dressed for the links, discussed quietly among themselves. Their body language disclosed not only curiosity but also discontent. They did not like the fact that their fun on the green was interrupted so gruesomely.

James noticed two constables fleeting from one player to another, taking notes, and a satisfied smile flourished on his lips. It seemed that Jo had not wasted any time and had already put the constables at work.

The DS knew that, in half an hour, all the players would be sent away from the club. The police needed to do their job, and their presence represented a nuisance. If James had to ask those people more questions, they would find them, using the notes the constables had taken.

James did not really care about the players’ dismay. He wanted to have the area cleared as soon as possible so that the forensic team could collect the evidence.

Beyond the yellow band, people swarmed all over the place, looking for evidence. From afar, they seemed like headless ants, covering the soil, but the DS noticed that there was a method in their search.

He did not expect anything less from them. They knew their job and did it well, even though McNamara was not there to chew their hides.

A half-smile crept on his lips, despite his apprehensions concerning the case. Well, maybe with the help of the other DIs, the murder might still be solved.

James needed to believe that because he could not face McNamara without something concrete. For the last forty-five minutes, James had worried that he was way over his head with that homicide.

He had always assisted McNamara, but he had never been in the situation of leading the procedures. As luck would have it, Jo proved good strategic skills, and that, maybe, would save his skin as well.

“It’s looking good,” Claire’s soft voice came from behind him.

James turned towards her with surprise. He had not realized that the woman had already got out of the car, as well. Now, she was almost next to him, and her glance skimmed the group of people before them. Curiosity danced in her silky brown eyes while the fingers of her right hand fidgeted over the top button of her blouse.

The sudden dryness of his mouth prompted the tip of his tongue to sneak out and wet his feverish lips. Not for the first time, James wondered about the power that petit round woman held over him.

With a slight shake of his head, the man shifted his eyes back to the people milling over the links, suddenly aware that he had lost focus on the investigation. The DS could not afford that. The shadow of the CDI loomed over his shoulder, and he needed to get to work if he wanted to avoid any reprimands. 

“Aye, it does,” the man admitted once he cleared his head and remembered her statement.

Still, the thought that he should have been the one to build that attack plan pricked at the back of his mind and made him feel guilty. The DS was a hard-working man, but he did not possess the skills to plan something like that. That thought chafed at him.

With an inward sigh, James shut the car door with more force than necessary and then winced. When he felt Claire’s eyes on him, he shrugged and then started towards the bushes where the coroner must have been. With a brief wave of his fingers and a nod of his head, the DS invited Claire to follow him but did not stop to see if she did.

The woman stepped in line with the DS, stealing furtive glances at him. Ainsley had seemed a little strange since they left the squad, plagued with millions of thoughts. Claire would have liked to ask him what he thought, but she did not want to seem too intrusive.

When they became lovers, she had decided not to take advantage of their relationship. That was why she never called him Ainsley in public. She used his given name only in her thoughts and during their most private moments. The DS seemed to like that.

Once he reached the yellow tape, James waved Jo down. The young woman nodded briefly, but she kept talking rapidly to Steven Gilchrist for a few moments.

The leader of the forensic team listened to her words, nodding impatiently now and then. James shook his head, and a sly grin upturned the corners of his mouth. Steven did not appear to appreciate the detailed requests that Jo considered necessary. After all, the man had been doing that job for more years than the DI had done hers.

However, James did not say anything. He merely shoved his hands in his pants pockets and tried to keep his grin in check. His right foot tapped the ground somewhat impatiently, but he refrained from interfering.

When she finished expending upon her expectation, Jo thumped Steven over his shoulder and strode towards the DS with rushed steps. Behind her, a scowl contorted the forensic expert’s features, and James barely contained his mirth.

“What do you know?” James asked her without looking at the detective, his gaze sweeping over the people of the forensic team, busy at work.

The DS did not doubt for a moment that Jo had already uncovered something. He knew that the DI was excellent in her work.

“Well, we do have a body in the bushes,” Jo pointed to the place where James had thought to have seen the coroner earlier. “The old man who called didn’t lie. Someone took a bat or a club to the guy’s head and face,” the woman continued matter-of-factly. “I would go with the club, though, considering where we are,” she shrugged, waving her hand in a large circle to encompass the golf club.

“You might be right,” James nodded. The DS doubted that someone would have needed a bat when clubs abounded around. “Do we have any idea who the man is?” he asked Jo.

“Aye, that is not an issue,” the woman nodded with a smile. “The killer might have bashed the man’s skull in and shattered his face, but he left the ID. I don’t think he had any intention of concealing the victim’s identity,” the DI shook her head, tapping her fingers to her thigh. “I think that he merely wanted to have some revenge, I suppose. It looks like someone did hate the man’s guts,” she pursed her lips. “The attack was ferocious, and the murderer didn’t stop until he slaked his thirst,” she pointed out, scrunching her nose.

“So, who was he?” James asked through his tight teeth.

The DS did not possess McNamara’s boldness to ask the woman not to stray with her story, but he wished he had. Jo did like to entertain the troupes with her opinion about every bloody blessed thing.

“His name was Peter Walsh,” Jo read from her notebook in an indifferent tone of voice as if she had not noticed his rebuke.

James clenched his teeth once more, watching the woman with displeasure. Jo looked rather unimpressed with his exasperation, and the man pursed his lips. Her dismissal cut the DS to the bone. At least once, he would have liked that one of the detective inspectors would pay heed to him.

“Any witnesses?” the man thought to ask her, hoping that, at least that way, she might give him some straight answers.

He knew from experience that Jo could lead him in a merry chase if he let her to her own devices. James believed that some questions to the point might do the trick, though, and save all of them some time.

“I wouldn’t quite say witnesses,” the DI shook her head, and a faint smile curved her pouty lips.

It was not the first time the DS had noticed those full rosy lips. James knew that most of the men in the squad were crazy after the woman. Nevertheless, that fever had never touched him.

Jo might have possessed an uncommon beauty with her pale, transparent, blue eyes and wispy red hair. Still, James believed that she could not hold a candle to Claire, and he could not understand why the others within the team did not see that.

“But we do have the men who found the body,” the young DI continued, unaware of the direction of his thoughts. She pointed toward two older men, who kept to the side, about ten inches beyond the other side of the yellow band.

James glanced at the so-called witnesses with curiosity. To him, the two men looked like any other old Scotsmen, addicted to golf.

Although he did not understand the reason, the DS knew that people around took their game seriously. His Welsh heritage should have nudged James to play the game as well, but that bug missed his target with him.

“One of them lost his breakfast right there,” Jo pointed towards the bushes. “The other says that he didn’t throw more than a glance to the body,” Jo informed the DS. “The latter seems a bit squeamish if you know what I mean,” she said, and humorous lights danced in her eyes.

“Have you talked to them already?” James inquired, tightening his right hand in a fist.

The DS felt cheated. Usually, James asked all those preliminary questions, and he was bloody good at that, even if he said so himself. Talking to people and making them tell him certain things represented his best skill. The thought that the DI had questioned the two men who stumbled over the body stirred his jealousy, considering that he had already failed in making a sound plan for the investigation.

“Not really,” the woman shook her head. “I thought you would like to do it. You know to conduct those interviews better than I,” she explained to the DS with a shrug. “Besides, maybe my skills are better used if I observed the scene while the forensic experts work,” the DI waved her hand around. At the same time, her eyes darted here and there to monitor the people in the field.

Those negligent words, coming from her mouth, tugged at the sergeant’s heart. Now, he remembered that he liked Jo most of the time because of her thoughtfulness. The rush of gratitude brought colour to the man’s face, and the DS averted his eyes so that the woman would not read too much in them.

“Thank you, Jo. You are right that you might observe more than I if you survey the scene,” he nodded, glancing at her briefly. Then, he tried to hide his eyes from the intrigued look of his colleague. James did not want her to see the relief he experienced.

“Well, then I leave you two with the two curmudgeons,” Jo looked from James to Claire and back.

She smiled thinly at them, a sign that her earlier encounter with their two witnesses did not go too smooth. Jo did not have a very careful tongue, and the men had proved rather unpleasant.

“I wish you luck,” the young woman added under her breath. “You will need it,” she nodded decisively, already starting towards Steven Gilchrist.

Jo did not have any intention of letting James know what he would be against right then. She was afraid that the DS would stick her with the witnesses. Still, her words reached his ears, and his brows arched. The sergeant feared that the DI’s previous discussion with the two old men did not bode well for his future interview with them. 

CHAPTER FOUR

“Do you want me to come with you for the interviews?” Claire asked James in an astonished voice, her eyes trailing the progress Jo made over the green.

She had expected that by then, the DS would have sent her with Jo or would have asked her to join the forensic team and take notes.

The newly minted detective was not afraid of the two dour men, who were waiting aside to be asked more questions, as Jo had requested them to do earlier. However, Claire doubted that James would want her with him.

She had already noticed that the sergeant tried his best to dissociate himself from her. He hoped that thus no one in the squad would speculate about the relationship they might have enjoyed.

A faint smile curved her lips, and the young woman shook her head imperceptibly. Ainsley merely deluded himself if he thought that the inspectors did not have a clue about their extracurricular activities.

However, she did not want to burst his bubble, so she let him believe what he wanted. It seemed to soothe his ego, and the fresh detective did not want to ruin his beliefs.

“Aye,” the DS replied in a crisp tone of voice. “It is only normal to ask the newest detective inspector of the team to witness the interviews. That is how you learn,” he threw over his shoulder and started toward the two witnesses, leaving Claire behind, staring after him with narrowed eyes.

His words hurt her. If she had not known that the DS was not a mean man, Claire would have told him what she thought about his statement.

The woman might have just become a DI, but she had already worked with the detectives and proved her value every time. She doubted that McNamara would have pushed for her promotion otherwise. The DCI did not care for people that were not able to do their job by his rules.

Anyway, Claire did not need any pity or favours from anyone. She knew that she had worked hard to get where she was then.  Therefore, the impulse to blast his ears for his misplaced display of superiority nudged at Claire.

Nevertheless, the young woman breathed in and out, trying to calm her anger. Anyway, her rage would keep. She would have enough time to make Ainsley pay in spades later. The investigation did not need her washing their dirty laundry in public.  

Suddenly, James stopped in his treks. Claire practically rammed him down to the ground as she strode with determination behind him, lost in her thoughts.

“What are you doing?” the woman asked in a puzzled tone of voice, bracing a hand on his shoulder to balance herself. The DI had the feeling that she had hit a brick wall and needed the support.

“I think that I should talk to the coroner first,” James explained and changed his direction towards the bushes without paying any more attention to her.

James felt the need to slap himself silly. He could not believe that he had forgotten such an important task.