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GOLF COURSE, COSTA TEGUISEWe were heading across a long stretch of rough on the fifteenth hole when a commotion broke out ahead of us. It was hard to see through the rows of stout palm trees that edged all the fairways and greens, but others had downed their clubs and were staring in the direction of what I imagined to be the tenth hole. Then I caught a glimpse of someone running up the fairway. Couldn’t be sure but I thought it was Billy.
I left Clarissa trudging up to the green ahead of us and ran as fast as my old bones would let me. I cut a course between two palm trees and crossed the fairway of the thirteenth hole as the man, who I now saw was indeed Billy Mackenzie, paused, taking a split second to decide which direction to head.
I called out. He might have heard me, but it ma
