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He looked me in the eye. ‘Simple, I asked him.’

‘It’s more than I’ve ever done,’ I retorted. Quite out of the blue, I was angry. ‘Don’t you think you should have asked me before quizzing my son about his religious belief? He’s only eight, Gerard! How can you expect him to have a mature view on the existence of bloody deities?’

‘It’s my job,’ he shot back at me. ‘I’m a diviner of faith in people. It’s usual for me to begin a dialogue with those as young as Tom, to test their attitudes. His is already formed. If there was a God, he told me, he would not have let his father die. Now I agree that he isn’t old enough to grasp the concept that life is full of misfortunes and imperfections, and that only God Himself is perfect, and I didn’t try to explore that with him, but in my view he will be implacable. He will never be able to accept the existence of God.’

‘Then why do you let him help you in church?’ I snapped.

‘Because he’s very good at it.’

‘You mean you’re using him? Well, that’s at an end.’

‘Hey,’ he snapped. Our voices were raised; I was aware, vaguely, that a few people were looking at us but I didn’t give a damn. We were having a full-blown argument, our first ever. ‘You don’t believe in Him any more than Tom does, yet you were quite willing to stand in church alongside Alex Guinart and Gloria and promise to take responsibility for the religious upbringing of little Marte.’

I had moved closer to him; we were no more than two feet apart, eyeball to eyeball. ‘I’m an adult,’ I shouted. ‘That was my choice and it was acceptable to Alex. Tom’s a child, and you’re letting him play a part, probably in the hope of winning him over to your team. But not any more you aren’t. So bugger off!’

‘Primavera,’ Mac exclaimed, ‘calm down. Listen, when Oz was a kid he had a paper round, but that didn’t mean he believed in Robert Maxwell.’

I stared at him; Gerard simply blinked and looked confused, having never heard of the notorious press baron or of his watery fate. ‘What’s that got to do with it?’ I challenged.

‘Fuck all,’ he admitted cheerfully, ‘but somebody’s got to get between you two at this point.’ He took me by the elbow, and I allowed him to steer me gently towards the house. ‘Good to meet you, Gerard,’ he said, over his shoulder, ‘but you’ve got a lot to learn about coming between a tigress and her cub.’

Twenty-six

That should squash the gossip,’ I growled, bitterly.

We were sitting at the kitchen table, our hands wrapped round mugs of tea, which Mac had insisted on making. ‘Nothing better than a cup of hot tea to cool you down.’

‘You reckon?’ I paused. ‘An up and downer between me and the priest in front of half the village? Word will get around, bank on it.’

‘But what will that word be? Honest to Christ, lass, watching you two, it really took me back. In all our marriage Flora and I never argued much, but when we did, they were belters. That’s what you and young Gerard reminded me of out there, and I reckon that a few people will have similar thoughts.’ He grinned. ‘And before you ask, I always got the worst of it too.’

I had to smile. ‘What did you fight about?’

‘Mostly it was about our daughter. Ellen was a handful, even when she was Tom’s age. She had a reputation as the toughest kid in the playground. One day a mother brought her lad into the surgery with a loosened back tooth. His jaw was swollen round it. When I asked him what had happened he said that a boy had hit him. “Don’t tell lies,” said his mum. “It wasn’t a boy.” No, it wasn’t,’ he laughed, ‘it was our Ellie that did it. The idiot child had tried to force her to give him her apple.’

Knowing Ellie, I had no trouble believing the story. ‘Did you ever argue about Oz?’ I asked him.

He shook his head. ‘Never had cause. Osbert was a paragon; well behaved, good at his lessons, and nobody ever tried to take his apple. . any more than they will with his son.’

That was true, I realised. I’d never heard a whisper of Tom being in a scrap.

‘What are you going to do about it?’ Mac asked, quietly.

‘About what?’

‘Wee Tom, and the church.’

‘I don’t know,’ I confessed. ‘What would you do?’

‘Nothing.’ He paused. ‘I must apologise to you, Primavera; it was me who kicked that argument off with that provocative question.’

‘No, it was Gerard who caused it, with his to Tom.’

‘Maybe, but I can see his side of the case. He’s in the soul business; it’s his job to see that everyone’s in good shape, from an early age. And,’ he pointed out, ‘it’s yours too, as a godmother.’

‘Maybe I should resign then, for I’m not qualified.’

‘I can’t think of anyone who’s better qualified. You’ve seen the pitfalls and you know how to avoid them.’

‘So you’re saying I should let Tom carry on helping Gerard?’

‘I’m not sure you’ve got the right not to, if that’s what the lad wants to do.’

‘So should I go next door and eat humble pie?’

‘Hell no! Arguments aren’t best solved by one side giving in.’

‘But what if Gerard says he can’t be a server any more?’

‘He won’t do that. He’s a good guy.’

‘How do you know that? You’ve only just met him, and not in the best of circumstances.’

‘Nonetheless, he is. Plus he would do anything for you and your son.’ He drained his tea. ‘Now,’ he exclaimed, ‘I must go and call Matthew Reid, to see if it’s all right to pay them a visit.’

I stayed in the kitchen as he went to find a phone; for some reason the cordless that’s usually there had been left in the TV room. I had just put our mugs in the dishwasher when he returned.

‘Fixed up?’ I asked.

He shook his head, frowning. ‘No. I only caught them by a couple of minutes. Matthew said that he’s so pissed off by the incident with the police that he and his wife have decided to go back to Scotland ahead of schedule. I said to him that after that apology from the top banana, I’d have thought it was all behind him, but he said it was best if he went, so as not to draw any more attention to himself.’ He scratched his chin. ‘I suspect that the thing’s scared him more than he’s prepared to admit. Who’s going to pay undue attention to a retired PR man?’

‘I can’t imagine,’ I said. ‘I can’t imagine at all.’

Twenty-seven

I could, of course, By going to the consulate, Matthew had done what any Brit should do in the circumstances, but he couldn’t have foreseen the consequences. From the level at which the apology had been offered, I guessed that his military record had been disclosed to someone higher up the pecking order in the Catalan government than a mere chief of police, and that buttons had been pushed. Chances were that Gomez had been told who and what he had hauled into his nick, and that he had decided to get out of town before the locals started calling him ‘Brigadier Reid’, which would not have been good.

We were halfway through lunch when I was proved right. The phone rang; I answered to find Alex on the other end. ‘What do you know about Ben’s stepfather?’ he asked.

‘Enough,’ I replied, ‘but I was told in confidence. Is the intendant still smarting?’

‘He’s in a filthy mood, so I wouldn’t let it slip any time soon that you could have warned us about the guy.’

‘Honest, I didn’t know myself until you’d put your feet in it. Honest.’

‘I believe you.’

‘How’s the whore quest going?’

‘Badly. I’ve visited most of the houses of horizontal refreshment in the area. None of them had ever heard of Planas, far less recognising him as a client. I’ve still got a few to interview, but I’m not hopeful of success. Gomez is insisting that I do it, though, even though we’ve checked the calls made from the old man’s mobile and his landline, and can find nothing that links to any of these places.’

‘What about the murder weapon?’

‘Nothing on that yet. . at least nothing that I’ve heard, having spent most of the morning interviewing madams.’ He sighed. ‘Ah well, back to the grind, so to speak.’