My Laugh Comes Last

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Looking back, I can now see that the seeds of this nightmare that happened to me were sown some four years ago: seeds that finally produced blackmail, two murders and a suicide.

Four years ago, I was a badly paid service mechanic, working for Business Equipment & Electronics. My father, who was their head accountant, got me the job. When I left school, he had suggested I should study electronics, and sent me to the local university where I got a Master’s degree. While I was still at school, he also suggested I learned to play golf.

‘More business is done on a golf course, Larry,’ he said, ‘than in a boardroom.’

I discovered I was a natural golfer, and later I became a fanatic about electronics.

All the week, including Saturdays, I humped a heavy tool bag, in the evenings I went to night school and studied electronics. Sundays, I played golf.

I had this arrangement with the golf pro at Creswell golf course that I could play a round for free every Sunday morning at 08.30, and in return, I would look after his shop until lunchtime. It was an arrangement that suited us both as I couldn’t afford to become a member, and he could spend the morning out on the course.

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