Lucky Strike, by Charles Boorman

“When are you going to fix the table?” grumbled his wife as he left. At work the caretaker started the tractor and set off across the golf course. Overhead, the sky darkened.

The hiker lifted his leg over the fence and hoped the short-cut would get him home before the thunderstorm struck.

The caretaker found the body spread-eagled on the fairway of the thirteenth hole. Before leaving his seat he stared for a moment at the scorched corpse and rucksack.

Back home, his wife liked the repair to the wobbly table. The police wondered where the deceased’s trans-tibial prosthesis had gone.

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