Quintin Jardine - A Coffin For Two

‘I asked him what he did for a living, and if he still did it. He told me that he had been involved with his family business, and still is occasionally, on an advisory basis. He told me that the family had money, more than he needed. Yet he didn’t tell me what that business was. I tried, but he changed the subject.

‘Instead he began to tell me that I was wasted on a young guy like you. He held my hand, looked at me with that eye and said that I should drink deep from the well of experience, rather than sip from the pool of youth.’

I whistled, loudly, over the sound of the engine. ‘Wow! I’m going to write that line down, because when I’m his age I won’t be able to trust myself to remember it. He didn’t tell you how old he is, did he?’

She laughed, softly. ‘No. He didn’t throw out any more hints, either. He did tell me, though, that every day he sleeps for at least ten hours, swims for two kilometres or walks five, drinks two litres of water and eats three bananas. He also does forty press-ups and fifty sit-ups before he showers, shaves and dresses.’

‘Is he regular as well?’

‘He didn’t say, but I’d guess he is. I am a nurse, you know. I can spot the signs of constipation.’

‘How about the pecker department?’ I asked her, flippantly. ‘Did he raise that, so to speak?’

She frowned at me. ‘No he did not. I told you, he’s a gentleman.’

‘He’s a fucking old rogue, that’s what he is.’

‘He’s a remarkable man; seriously. We know he’s over seventy-five, at least. Physically he doesn’t look more than mid-sixties, and he has a mind like a razor.’

I grunted. ‘Old bastard. He’d better watch he doesn’t cut himself.’

Primavera laughed like a peal of bells. ‘I love it. You try to laugh it off, but you’re jealous!’

‘That’ll be the day.’ I didn’t want to get into a discussion about jealousy, so, like Davidoff, I retreated from the subject.

‘Listen,’ I said, changing my tone, ‘something occurred to me tonight, after I saw that picture. There may be a way we can find out more about Ronnie Starr; get a clue to what he did while he was here.’

‘How?’

‘Tomorrow I’ll make another phone call. It’ll mean I’m overdrawn in the favour department, but I’ll do it nonetheless.’

I gave Eddie half an hour to settle in and have his first coffee of the day, then made the call, at around ten-thirty our time.

‘Christ, Oz,’ he barked by way of greeting. ‘What the f … is it this time? I thought we were even.’

‘We were. After this, I’ll owe you one. The other day, you said there had been no action on the guy Starr’s cards for about a year. I’d like to know what the last action was; where the cards were used and when.’

‘You wh …’There was a long silence. I was relieved when it turned out to have been pregnant. ‘You are sure that this guy is kaput, aren’t you, China?’

‘Dead certain, you might say. It is important, Eddie, honest.’

‘Okay.’ There was another pause, shorter this time. ‘When are you due home again?’ my source asked.

‘Inside a month. But I need this before then.’

‘Relax, I’ll call you back tonight. But when you come home, I want a case of beer. Good stuff, mind, none of your weak French crap.’

I laughed. At Spanish prices, if Eddie’s information paid off, I would be getting off lightly.

Prim and I put in a conscientious day’s work, gathering information from the Consulate, and from the Barcelona Chamber of Commerce. I even attempted a conversation in Spanish, and was astonished to find that I could make sense of what I was told.

It was just after seven when the phone rang. ‘Forget the beer,’ said Eddie. ‘I want a case of Rioja. Yes?’

I sighed. My pal wasn’t a quick thinker, but he always got there eventually. ‘Okay, you’re on. It’d better be worth it, though.’

‘You can tell me,’ he said. ‘Your man’s Visa was last used in Spain on the twelfth of September last year. He bought petrol with it, in a place called Verges. He seems to have taken his car over there.’

I took a deep breath. ‘You don’t know …’

Eddie laughed. ‘He bought it on finance three years ago. The last payment was made in July last year. A Renault Five, L 213 NQZ. Who’s a clever boy, then?’

‘You are mate, you are. What else?’

‘The Mastercard was used last on the twenty-fifth of September, last year again. He paid a restaurant bill with it in a place called Pubol. That’s P, U, B, O, L. He signed for a debit of seven thousand pesetas. How much is that in real money?’

I barely heard the question. ‘Oh,’ I replied at last, ‘about thirty-five quid. What was the restaurant called?’

‘It doesn’t say, just Ristorante.’

‘How about other debits?’

‘The three before that were in a bar stroke cafe in a place called La Pera. Need any more?’

I beamed across the table at Prim, who was watching me intently. ‘No, Eddie. That’s great. You’ve earned that Rioja, China. In fact we might even throw in the beer as well!’

‘Eddie may have turned up trumps,’ said Primavera, looking across the breakfast table as I crunched my way through half a xapata filled with boiled eggs, ‘but we’d better think what use we can make of his information.’

Our successes of the day before had dulled the memory of our confrontation on Tuesday. Breakfast was a fun time once more, and play had resumed as well in other areas. The weather seemed to have responded to our change in mood. It was warmer than it had been; well into autumn, we could still feel the heat in the morning air.

‘I’ve already done some thinking along those lines,’ I said, when I could. I wiped the flour from the xapata from the corners of my mouth. ‘In fact, when you were out getting the bread, and the eggs were boiling, I made a couple of phone calls.

‘Ronnie Starr bought his petrol in Verges. He picked up the tab for at least one guest, maybe two, in Pubol on September twenty-five, and he seems to have been a regular at that bar in La Pera.

‘All of that indicates that he was based somewhere in that area. Agreed?’

‘Yes.’ Prim nodded.

‘In that case, if we can find out where he lived, we might find other people who knew him, and who can tell us more about him. Maybe someone will give us a lead to the phoney Starr.’

‘Unless one of them is the phoney Starr.’

I grimaced. ‘That had occurred to me. We’ll just have to be careful about the questions we ask.’

‘Why don’t we say that I’m his cousin and that we’re out here trying to find him?’ she suggested.

‘Good idea. People are more likely to talk to us on that basis. Well done.’

She nodded. ‘Don’t mention it. Now, how are we going to find out where he lived?’

‘We can ask around the hostels. But he was out here from the end of the academic year to the autumn. That’s three months, at least. Isn’t it more likely that he would have rented an apartment?’

‘At summer prices?’

‘It’s cheaper inland. A small place in the area in which we’re interested wouldn’t cost you very much. I thought we might ask around the rental agencies in Verges, Flaca and La Bisbal, so I phoned Maggie and got some numbers from her.’

Prim looked at me doubtfully. ‘That’s fair enough; it’s logical. But you’ve got an orderly mind. Couldn’t Starr have done what we did? Stopped off somewhere and found a place to stay by accident? If you looked at our Visa slips what name would you find most often?’

I smiled at her. ‘Casa Minana.’

‘Right,’ she said, patiently. ‘Which is next door to our apartment. So …’