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‘It has to be,’ said Davidoff, growling with what I took to be his distaste for Shirley’s son. ‘You have found two links with Ronald Starr; the auction, which you have just told me was a fake, and now the picture above Senora Shirley’s bed. In each, the name of Trevor Eames comes up. Yes, I have to believe that he sold John the picture of Cadaques.’

Prim took his arm. I saw the muscles of his wrist and hand tense under her touch. ‘Is it possible that John was the man at the auction?’ she asked. ‘Could he, or he and Eames together, have killed the real Ronnie Starr and stolen his pictures?’

Davidoff’s eye narrowed, for several seconds as if he was considering her question. Then he shook his head, vigorously. ‘I don’t think so. John is not the man to be involved in something like this. Not that he is a paragon, you understand; he just lacks imagination and guts.

‘Oz,’ he said suddenly, ‘this impostor at the auction, how was he described to you?’

‘About forty, clean-shaven, dark hair beginning to go grey, ordinary looking, average height.’

‘It was not John, then, for sure. John is fair, like his mother, and almost two metres tall. Trevor’s partner was someone else.’

Something in his voice made me ask him, ‘Do you know Eames?’

Davidoff shrugged. ‘I see him around, I know who he is, I know where he lives, but I would not say I know him. I would not want to know him; he’s an asshole.’ He paused. ‘I tell you this, though. He approached John to sell him the picture, not the other way around. John, he is a fucking philistine. He talks big but he wouldn’t know a Picasso from a bull-fight poster, and he wouldn’t know where to go to buy a picture like that. Yes,’ he nodded, ‘if you find Eames and you make him talk, you know all the answers.’

Our friend paused, and he looked at me, hard. ‘But there is one thing, Oz. You never tell me why you believe Ronnie Starr is dead.’

So I told him the whole story, from the beginning to my meeting with Miguel’s wife’s nephew. Davidoff’s face grew darker by the minute.

‘These people,’ he snarled. ‘So fucking selfish. Nothing matters to them but the tourists. To treat a poor boy’s body like that. I am ashamed that they are Catalan. And you, Oz, that you were involved in it. I am ashamed of you, too.’

Right then, the last of the sybarite Oz Blackstone vanished, and Mac the Dentist’s son was finally back, imperfect as before, but with his old standards of decency. For right then, for the first time, I was ashamed of myself too.

Davidoff stood up, bent over Prim and kissed her, on both cheeks, and lightly on the lips. ‘Good night, my dear one,’ he said. ‘I think I better go now. I hope I have not soured your enjoyment of the night with my lecture.’

He looked at me, over his shoulder. ‘Don’t take it to heart, my boy. I suppose you felt that you owed this Miguel a favour. If you feel that you are in someone’s debt it’s difficult to say no, sometimes. Come to think of it, to recognise a debt which you owe is a virtue. Take that from me.’

We sat in silence for a while, after he had gone back to the summerhouse. Then we left too.

‘He’s right, Oz,’ said Prim as she drove us home. ‘It would have been difficult to say no.’

I shook my head. ‘It would have been easy. No. There you are, that’s how easy it is.’

‘Well, it’s done now. There’s no point in belated guilt. Look back on how the rest of the evening went. We’ve got proof of a connection between Trevor Eames and the real Ronald Starr. That can’t be bad, can it?’

‘No, that was a surprise. It should help us persuade Eames to talk, when we find him. Hell, we may even force him to go to the police. It’d be as well if Starr’s body turns up before then, though.’

I glanced across at her. ‘How about your evening? Has he proposed yet?’

‘Don’t be childish,’ she said, grinning. ‘We had another long talk, about life and the meaning of the universe. In some ways I’m getting to know a lot about Davidoff, in others I still know nothing.’

‘What do you mean?’

Primavera paused, reflecting. ‘Well, for example, I know that he has two homes. I asked him where he lives when he’s not at Shirley’s. He said that he has somewhere on the coast, and somewhere else, a very little place, in the country. But he didn’t tell me where either one was.

‘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.’

40

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?’