He gave a deep macabre chuckle. ‘Maggots, like?’
‘Fucking crocodiles, mate.’ He likes a story embellished.
‘So the police don’t have a clue then?’
‘Nary a one. They think it’s Capulet, but they can’t prove it.’
‘Not even in this day and age? Wi’ all this genetic fingerprinting and stuff?’
‘If you can find one of his toe-nail clippings under your bed, they’d identify him in as long as it takes to test it. But otherwise …’
He grunted. ‘Under your bed, more like. I ’ardly knew the bloke.’ He flashed me a wicked smile. ‘Can’t speak for the Missis, though. She likes a bit of French.’
‘Gerroff,’ Geraldine muttered, cuffing him lightly on the back of the head.
‘They’ve looked under our bed already,’ Prim told him. ‘No joy. If you’re ever looking for really good cleaners, we can recommend a firm.’
‘Did you know him though, Frank?’ I asked.
‘Oh aye. Not very well, like I said, but I knew the bloke. He were in here once or twice.’
I must have looked surprised, for he continued. ‘Yes, he were. Not a regular customer, like, but he came in once or twice.’
‘Sure, with me,’ Shirley interjected.
‘Aye, but other times as well. Jo’ll tell you, won’t you, Jo?’
‘Yes, that’s right,’ came a voice from behind the bar.
‘You know that Moroccan bloke?’ Frank asked.
‘Which one among the several million?’
‘Dark-haired guy.’
I searched my memory, but couldn’t for the life of me remember when I’ve ever seen a blond Moroccan. ‘Keep going,’ I said.
‘Thin bloke; tall for a Moroccan. He’s got a fishing boat. Sayeed,’ he bellowed at last. ‘That’s ’is name. The Frenchman were in here with him a few times. They made an odd couple, him well-dressed, smelling of aftershave and dripping in gold, and this other fella, well-enough dressed, but dead scruffy and looking like ’e didn’t own a razor.’
‘What were they talking about?’ I asked him.
‘I don’t know, but it were private whatever it was. I said “Hello” to them one night. . just like that. . and the Moroccan looked at me as if he thought I’d been listening in. After that they clammed right up. So I just left them to get on wi’ it. I were only trying to be friendly, that’s all. Bugger the pair of ’em, that’s what I said to myself.’
‘How about Sayeed? Is he still around?’
‘I suppose so,’ Frank muttered, scratching his forehead above his light-framed glasses. ‘I suppose he must be. Can’t remember when I saw ’im last, though. Can you, Shirl?’
‘The Moroccan? I wouldn’t have a bloody clue,’ she answered.
‘How about you, Gerrie?’ he asked his wife. ‘Sayeed the fisherman. When did you see him last?’
She looked at him, only mildly interested. ‘I don’t know,’ she complained. ‘He’s not the sort of bloke you’d miss, is he?’
Prim laughed. ‘You’re all missing him, by the sound of things; you’ve mislaid him completely.’
Defeated, Frank turned to the Oracle. ‘Jo. When was Sayeed in here last?’
She pondered the question. ‘Must be a year and more back,’ she announced at last. ‘Before he went to prison.’
‘Christ,’ I muttered, aloud. ‘The story goes on. What did he get the nick for, Jo?’
She looked at me as if I was simple. ‘Smuggling,’ she answered. ‘What else around here?’
‘Ahh,’ shouted Frank in triumph. ‘That’s it, I’d forgotten ’e got put away.’
‘So what was he smuggling?’ asked Prim. ‘Drugs? Booze?’
‘Nah, love,’ said Jo, ‘none of that; not Sayeed. He was caught with what most of these people smuggle.’
‘Which is?’ she asked, as intrigued as I was.
‘Other bleedin’ Moroccans; what else?’
10
When we woke next morning, we didn’t give Sayeed another thought. Instead, we finally got round to climbing down into our pool and giving it a good scrubbing out. . especially the area around the drain. . then began the slow process of filling it. The painters were off that day, so we had the place to ourselves for once.
Once the bottom was completely covered, shallow end to deep, we added a load of chlorine, as advised by another English bloke we had met in JoJo’s, after we had moved on from Frank’s table.
‘Looks okay, doesn’t it?’ I said to Prim as we stood by the steps, watching the sun sparkling on the surface.
‘Mmm.’ She nodded. ‘I wonder how long it’ll be before I can look into it without imagining I can see something on the bottom.’
‘I wonder how long it’ll be before it’s warm enough to dive in to check.’
‘The end of May, without a heating system; or so that man said last night.’
‘Let’s get one, then,’ I proposed. ‘Like they say in Glasgow, toffs is careless.’
Prim was pondering this when my mobile, which was clipped to my belt, played its wee tune. I let it sound for a second or two. . I like Peer Gynt. . then answered. It was my dad.
‘What are you up to then, son?’ asked Mac the Dentist.
‘Nothing much,’ I told him. ‘We’ve cleared the last corpse out of the swimming pool, so we’ve just been filling it up.’
‘Christ, coming from you I’d almost believe that was true.’ I hadn’t shared our secret with him. ‘Weather okay? It’s bloody awful here.’
‘Aye, fine, Dad. Just the usual, you know. Shirtsleeve order, if you’re in the sunshine and out of the wind.’
‘Lucky wee bastard!’ he snorted. ‘It had better stay that way. I’ve got the flight tickets booked. We leave the Saturday before Christmas, once the schools have broken up, flying to Barcelona from Edinburgh through Amsterdam. Is that all right with you?’
‘Damn silly question, if you’ve booked. But of course it is. Did you put them on my Visa like I told you?’
‘Yes, I did. You could have made a mistake, son, giving me that number. But I put the hire car on mine, don’t worry.’
‘You’re a daft old bugger then; we were going to pick that up too. Listen, I’ll fax you directions from the airport nearer the time.’
I paused. ‘So what else is new?’
‘I’ll tell you what is. I’ve had three different journalists on the blower trying to find you. They want to interview you before the premiere of your movie …’
‘Miles and Dawn’s movie, Dad.’
‘Whatever. They all wanted to talk to you in advance, anyway. Wanted to know where you were. I did as you said, and put them on to the distributor’s PR people in London.’
‘I gathered that; I had a message from them yesterday on my mobile. I’m either going to see them when we come back for the Glasgow premiere next month, or the film people will fly them out here to meet me.’
My dad laughed. ‘Do I sound incredulous?’ he asked. ‘Because I fucking well am. I cannot believe this is my son we’re talking about. The same guy who used to be an ambition-free zone. So what do you do after the premiere?’
‘I go to school.’
‘Eh?’
‘That’s right. Miles was happy enough with the way I handled the first movie, but that was because the part was built around me. Before we start shooting the next one, he wants me to have some coaching, so he’s hired a drama tutor to work with me one on one.’
‘Wise man. He faxed me a couple of reviews from movie critics in the States. You get a mention in both of them; they actually sort of hint that you’re no’ bad. . for a beginner.’
‘If I was bad, Dad, I wouldn’t have been there. Miles does no favours on his projects. He must have thought I was up to it.’
‘And what do you think?’
‘I enjoy it; and yes, I do feel comfortable. You’re going to tell me I’ve been play-acting all my life, I suppose.’
‘That I am. Your mother would say the same if she was here, God bless her.’
‘Tell me about it. I can hear her saying just that, all the time. See you soon, Dad. . Oh yes, and remember to bring your golf clubs.’
‘Will do.’
I had almost hit the cancel button when he spoke again.
‘Nearly forgot,’ he exclaimed. ‘Someone else called looking for you: Susie Gantry. She said she wanted to send you a card, so I gave her your new address.’