‘Absolutely,’ I said. ‘If I had any sense, I probably would. So it’s just as well I haven’t, because your door would be the first they would knock on.’
‘Why, for God’s sake?’
‘Well, for starters, because I doubt if the way you bought a quarter of a million pounds’ worth of picture, then transported it out of Spain, is entirely legal.’
Scott spluttered. ‘Come on, Oz. I acted in good faith.’
‘I’m sure you did. I bet you didn’t get aVAT receipt though. Spanish IVA taxes on your buy would be around eight and a half million pesetas. Alternatively, the Customs and Excise could do you for evading duty. It’s a case of take your pick, although maybe they could both do you.
‘If that’s not enough, think on this. I’m not in a position to prove that Starr was murdered. But the evidence could turn up any day now, if it hasn’t already. Then the police have a scenario where you tell them that you paid over a quarter of a million for a painting by a murdered man, at a phoney auction. All they have is your word and your friend Foy’s for that.’
‘And Trevor Eames …’
‘… who may be implicated in the murder. He’s going to back you up, is he? Sorry, without the phoney Ronald Starr, what they’ll see is you being offered the picture by the real one, knocking him on the head, and using it as a scam to steal four hundred thousand US from your own company. As for Foy, he’s your pal. How likely are they to believe him?’
‘Oh shit!’ The sound of heavy breathing bounced off the satellite. ‘What am I going to do, Oz?’
‘Burn the fucking picture and forget you ever heard of me?’ I offered, helpfully, but knew that was a non-starter as soon as I said it.
‘Then I really would have embezzled a quarter of a million from my own company. Besides, Oz, I couldn’t bring myself to do that. I hear what you’re saying about this guy Starr having painted this picture; but suppose, just suppose that you’re wrong. Suppose this is what it was said to be at the auction, an authentic Dali, but privately owned and therefore unknown. What if I burned it, then found out that it was the real thing, and that it could be authenticated?’
‘And if it turned out that it had been stolen?’
The reply came without a moment’s hesitation. ‘Then I’d return it to the owner, assuming he claimed it … provided that its existence is acknowledged to the world. Oz,’ said Scott, ‘I want you to carry on, if you’re prepared to. The brief is still the same. Find out the truth about this picture, one way or another. Will you do it, or is it too dangerous for you and your partner? If the Toreador can be authenticated, I’ll pay you a bonus.’
I glanced across at Prim. I knew what she would say. ‘Okay, we’ll carry on, but without a variation in terms. Forget the bonus. I do need two things, though. I know you weren’t keen on me approaching your friend Foy. The way things are going, I think I have to talk to him now.’
There was a moment’s hesitation, but finally Scott said, ‘Okay. As I told you, David felt terribly guilty about involving me in the auction. I wanted to spare him involvement, but if you think it’s necessary, carry on. What’s the other thing?’
‘I want you to get details for me of the bank where your draft was cashed, and the account through which it was processed.’
‘Okay,’ said our client. ‘I’ll get you that as soon as I can. Look after yourself.’
‘No worries,’ I assured him. ‘I hope your people get the business today. You may need it to pay our fee. This could be a long job.’
28
While I spent the rest of the morning drawing up work plans for our two commercial commissions, Prim took the car and drove up to Shirley‘s, on Millionaire’s Row, above L’Escala.
She returned two hours later, flushed with a cocktail of flattery and success. ‘For you, my lovely Primavera, and for my friend Oz,’ she mimicked in a Hispanic-American accent, ‘it will be an honour and a pleasure. No, more than that, it will be an adventure.’
She laughed. ‘Tarragona! Davidoff has not been to Tarragona for forty years. When I come into middle age, I decide that Barcelona was as far south as I wished to venture. Now that I am old, even Girona seems like too much trouble. But to Tarragona, and with Senor Oz. Yes, that will be an adventure.’
She finished her monologue and looked at me. ‘One interpreter hired and ready for action. He is even, and wait for this, going to get himself out of bed before midday for the occasion. You can pick him up at nine o’clock. Shirley says that it’s an easy two-hour drive to Tarragona down the autopista. Your appointment with Senora Compostella is at midday, so you’ll have plenty of time.
‘I guarantee you one thing. You’ll have plenty of chat on the way down. Shirley said to me she hasn’t seen Davidoff come out of his shell like this since her husband died.’
‘I’m looking forward to it,’ I said. ‘Maybe I can quiz him about Dali on the trip.’
I thought back to Prim’s mimicry. ‘Have you worked out yet how old he might be?’
She shook her head. ‘No, I still can’t get close to it. There’s a tremendous vitality about him, and with that jet-black hair and the sleek skin, you could almost see him being in his sixties. But it’s that eye of his. He fixes you with it, and you feel that you could be staring into the mists of time.’
‘Time,’ I said. ‘Yes, time. As in lunchtime. Fancy a salad down in the square? I really need to talk to Miguel.’
Prim nodded her agreement. We locked up the apartment and strolled round to the heart of our hamlet. The archaeologists were still having their effect on business, and the tables outside the restaurants were busier than we had been assured was normal for the time of year. Nevertheless, our usual table near the door was available, and Miguel showed us to it, handing us menus automatically, although we knew his carta by heart.
I motioned him to join us as we attacked our chicken, rice, and side-salads. ‘Still many peoples,’ he said, as he sat down.
‘Yes,’ I agreed, ‘but none of them police, which would have been the case for sure if we hadn’t moved our chum.’ The smile left his face in an instant.
‘Miguel, I think we know who the body was.’
‘How?’ he whispered, incredulous. I took the watch from my pocket and showed it to him discreetly, in the palm of my hand. He gulped in fright. ‘You … How …’
‘I put it in my pocket at one point, and forgot to replace it. We traced him from its serial number. Now we need to find him again. Have you had any word from your wife’s nephew’s wife in the local police?’
His face fell, a guilty look spreading across it. ‘No, Oz. Not yet. To tell you the true, I have done nothing about it. I decide that the best thing was to forget about it.’
I shook my head. ‘Maybe it was, but not any more. The guy was murdered, Miguel. He doesn’t deserve to be tossed in a ditch and forgotten. Your tourist trade is safe. Now we owe it to him to try to ensure that he has a decent burial, and that whoever killed him is made to answer for it.’
He sighed. ‘Okay, Oz, okay. I will see what I can do. I will speak to Santi and ask him to try to find out from Ramona if the local police know about the body. And don’ worry Oz. I will be …’
‘… discreet, Miguel. Yes, that’s still a good idea.’
29
‘Four weeks on Saturday.’
No ‘hello’. No ‘how are you?’ No such pleasantries. The phone rang, I picked it up and that was all the voice at the other end had to say.
‘Dad?’
‘Who else?’ came the cheerful growl.
‘Aye, right, but what was that you said?’
‘Is this a bad line or something? I said, “Four weeks on Saturday.” This Saturday coming that is. Eleven-thirty, St Andrews Registry Office, lunch at the Peat Inn thereafter for the principals and families.’
I was aware that my mouth had fallen open. ‘For fuck’s sake, Dad. I liked it better when you were predictable. Whatever happened to, “Round about Christmas”?’