I was afraid that Alex would press me, but he didn’t. ‘Yes,’ he said, as we crested the road into St Martí, and he drew to a halt in front of the church, ‘I can see he would have been. But you haven’t answered my question.’ He looked me in the eye. ‘When did you see him last?’
‘When we left La Lluna, he drove me back home; it would have been closer to one than midnight, for everything here was closed.’
‘And?’ He looked pained. ‘Sorry, Primavera, I need to know.’
A lot of stuff went through my mind, very quickly. Going by what I’d seen of the body, from above and close to, as the paramedics had carried him past us, uncovered on their stretcher, I reckoned that he had lain in the open for all of Saturday, and Sunday, under cloudless skies and a blazing sun. Maybe he did have a heart attack and fall, while Gerard and I were having dinner. If he had, the autopsy would tell us, for sure. But maybe not. When he died, he’d been dressed in loose black trousers, a short-sleeved shirt and leather slippers, not the suit, tie and brogues that he’d worn for our meeting. He’d gone home and dressed for the evening. Maybe he was an early bedder, and he’d have been in pyjamas if he’d died after midnight. But I didn’t buy that. No, I feared that when we knew the time of death, it wasn’t going to help at all.
I almost said it: ‘And. . he came inside. We stayed in bed until around nine next morning, then we had breakfast, before he left around ten, through the garage down below, where he wouldn’t be seen.’
It was on the tip of my tongue; it almost escaped, but just in time I realised that almost certainly it would destroy our friendship, our relationship, when he was asked to confirm it, as he would be. Also, I looked at Alex and remembered that I’d be lying to a man who trusted me enough to make me godmother to his child. And I thought of Tom. If it came to that point, Gomez and Garcia would be sure to want to interview him about his mother’s bedtime habits; no way would I allow that.
‘He dropped me off,’ I finished, ‘where we’re parked right now, and then he drove off.’
‘Where did he go?’
‘Back to the priests’ house in L’Escala.’
Alex sighed. ‘Good.’
‘You were expecting something different?’
‘I wasn’t expecting anything, I promise.’ He paused. ‘What else?’ he mused. ‘Yes, how was he dressed? What was he wearing?’
‘His usual off-duty gear. Denims, open-necked shirt and that sports jacket of his. You know the one, with the elbow patches.’
‘Sure. Do him a favour, buy him a new one for Christmas, or his birthday, otherwise he’ll wear that thing till it dies.’
I laughed with him, relieved that he hadn’t asked me what colour the shirt was, or said anything that would have made me admit to what I’d seen sticking out of the breast pocket of the old jacket, the end of a white plastic clerical collar.
Fourteen
To my surprise Tom was still at the table in Can Coll, finishing up the biggest ice cream they have on offer — as I had allowed in my moment of weakness — accompanied by Ben, who had closed for his afternoon break, plus Charlie, Cher and Mustard. (By the way, before you get any ideas about Charlie and Cher, she’s been fixed; so, for that matter, has Mustard, when he wasn’t looking, although it hasn’t affected his sense of smell.)
‘Everything okay, Primavera?’ the shopkeeper asked.
‘Yes, but I’ll tell you later.’ He read the message in my eyes and let it drop.
My son didn’t quiz me about what we had been doing. He simply handed me back the fifty unbidden. . he knows that’s too much money for him to carry normally. . and told me that he and Ben were going to walk the dogs. Since I was long overdue lunch, I let them get on with it, and took over the table. Justine reckoned this was a good idea, and joined me.
Before we’d left, I’d made my mind up about what I was going to have, so I didn’t need to consult anything before ordering omelette and chips, but I did add a jug of sangria to the order, plus some water, for instant rehydration.
As our waiter left to get things under way, I turned to the mayor. ‘So,’ I said, ‘you’ve lost your majority on the council. Where does that leave you?’
She frowned. ‘I’ve been thinking about that,’ she admitted. ‘I’ll need to consult our lawyer, but I believe you’re wrong. Planas was an independent, a one-man slate. Normally, when someone leaves the council, the party involved nominates the next person on their list of thirteen at the election, and that person takes over. In this case, there’s nobody to nominate; logically, the vacancy will be unfilled. That means that we have only twelve councillors. My party and the combined opposition have six each. I’m the mayor, I have the casting vote, so, our majority is now absolute.’
‘Hey presto,’ I chuckled. ‘But you realise that gives you a damn good motive for bumping him off. Hope you can tell Gomez where you were on Friday night and Saturday morning.’
She winced. ‘I hope I don’t have to.’
I winked at her. ‘Oh yes?’
‘It’s that obvious?’
‘Afraid so.’
‘Shit.’ She looked at me. ‘Between us, yes?’
‘Of course.’
‘I wasn’t in L’Escala. We spent the night in a hotel in Figueras. He’s as busy as I am, and we meet up when it suits his schedule, and mine.’
‘Not a local, then.’
‘I didn’t say that, but please don’t ask me who he is.’
‘Intriguing. . but it’s none of my business. The truth is, Justine, you’re confiding in the right woman. I don’t care how many secrets you have, I’ve still got more than you.’
Fifteen
I must admit I was curious, but I didn’t try to ferret out the identity of Justine’s mystery man. The only other detail she let slip was that they had been together for three years or thereabouts, meeting wherever they could but never in L’Escala. Her mother and her sister. . as Ben had said. . knew of his existence, but that was all.
‘Are you ever going to settle down?’
‘Maybe, when his career makes it simpler, and when I feel that I’ve given all I can to L’Escala. My profession, when I go back to it, will let me go anywhere.’
‘What is that?’
‘I’m an accountant.’
The rest of the probing over lunch went in the other direction. Most people I meet want to know, sooner or later, about my time with Oz, and even the sophisticated mayor was one of those. She asked me what he was really like, away from the glamour of his movie career. ‘He used to fart in bed.’ She wanted to know what had brought us to St Martí, the first time. ‘We stopped for lunch. . in this very café in fact. . and bought an apartment.’ She wondered why we hadn’t stayed together. ‘The first time, he left me for somebody he had always been with, really, yet should never have been with at all.’ (That puzzled her, but it’s part of the biography I’ll never write, and there’s only one other person alive who knows of it.) ‘After she died, he went quietly crazy, became as unpredictable as me, and dangerous with it. We left each other, pretty quickly, but not before we’d made Tom. A while after that, he died.’
‘It still hurts, doesn’t it,’ Justine murmured.
‘Why do you say that?’
‘You have tears in your eyes.’
I gave her my best nonchalant smile. ‘For all you know they could be out of relief.’
‘I don’t think so.’ She poured the last of the sangria. ‘What about Gerard?’ she asked abruptly. ‘Should we tell him about Planas? Should we warn him? Should we tell him what Garcia found?’
‘First of all,’ I replied, ‘I doubt we’ll need to tell him. Angel will want a priest, to do whatever needs to be done in these circumstances. Even if he doesn’t attend to it himself, he’s bound to get to hear about it. As for warning him. . leave that to me.’