Midnight golfers?

At one a.m. this morning a shot rang out on Abbey Point. At least it sounded like a shot. Katie bolted upright in bed, straining to hear more. Birdie was on full alert. Nothing. What could it be? Should she call 911? Was it a gun shot, firecracker? Her husband was no help, he lay beside her, motionless, undisturbed by the strange nocturnal event.

This morning's sun revealed the cause of the stunning overnight bang. Looking down from the balcony, Katie spotted a clue obvious enough for the Pink Panther to read.
Here's the theory:
Some time around Sunday bar closing last night, moonlight golfers apparently teed it up on hole No. 14 that runs past our back yard. We don't know if our swingers ever actually hit the No. 14 fairway last night, but we do know that someone is in bad need of help correcting a serious slice.
The errant 1 a.m. golf ball crashed directly onto one of the tiles on the patio bar top, cleaving it into three pieces. The 16 inch sacrificial tile is easily replaced for about $2, which is about the cost of the Titleist Pro V1 we found in the flower bed.
Peace has been restored. Katie will catch up on her sleep tonight. Birdie will nap all afternoon. Stan got his eight hours so he's good to go.