‘Yes, these are my nephews, Jonathan and Colin. Jonny’s the one who’s partly turned into a human being; the other one’s still just a wee boy.’ Both of them shot me glares.
‘You’ve put on a bit of weight, haven’t you?’ Mr Gash commented.
I might have been offended by such a personal remark, had it not been true. I’ll never be Lennox Lewis, but since I started working out regularly with my wrestler chums, and built up a daily exercise regime, I’ve put on eight or nine kilos and turned some gathering fat into muscle in the process.
I shrugged my beefed-up shoulders. ‘I suppose I have,’ I agreed. ‘How’s it going with you, John?’ I asked him, then answered my own question. ‘Pretty well, I hear; according to what your mother says.’
‘It’s okay,’ he agreed. ‘The business is on a pretty solid footing. I’m more into importing than my father was. I’ve moved the manufacturing side up to the top end of the sector. There’ll always be a market for traditional English high-quality furniture, and not just at home either. So I buy the cheaper stuff from abroad, taking advantage of the strong pound, and I sell the expensive stuff at home, and abroad to people who are so rich they don’t give a damn about currency rates.’
Gash junior smiled thinly. ‘I couldn’t interest you in an over-stuffed Chesterfield, could I? Upholstered in the softest leather you’ll find anywhere in the world.’
I sucked in a deep breath through my teeth. ‘Nah. I’m a Fifer, John. I earn in dollars, but I’ll buy in euros. Makes much more sense.’
‘Ah,’ he said, with a hearty public school chuckle. ‘No more buying British; that’s what you’re saying? I thought I saw a spanking new Mercedes going into your drive this morning.’
‘Where can you buy a British car these days?’ I asked him.
‘What about a Jag?’
‘Don’t be daft, that’s American.’
‘Okay, a Lotus, then.’
‘Malaysian.’
‘Gotcha! Morgan.’
‘Not if you want one NOW. We’ll settle for the Merc, thanks and for the Z3 in Britain.’
I glanced up at him; I’d forgotten that he was a lanky lad, slightly taller than me. ‘Shirley said you were going into the car business yourself, in a way.’
He gave that forced laugh again. ‘You mean my Lada sideline. Just a bit of fun, you understand. Makes a pound or two though. It’s a crazy concept isn’t it? A car that’s worth nothing in running order, but a small fortune once you take it to bits.’
I had to agree with him. ‘I don’t understand it, myself. I’ve got one. I inherited it with the house, and I’ve been running around in it. Maybe I’m a Russian at heart, but I like it.’
‘They’re not all dogs,’ John conceded. ‘The four-by-four is quite a decent motor.’
‘Yes, that’s what the previous owner left behind.’
‘Ah yes, the late Mr Capulet. Mother told me about the nasty surprise that was waiting for you in your swimming pool. She was a little upset, I think, although she did her best not to show it. As far as I gather, the chap was paying court to her.’
I paused, wondering whether to reveal Fortunato’s surprise. Finally, I decided that Shirley had as good a right to know as I did. ‘She can cheer up, then,’ I said. ‘It wasn’t him.’
As John Gash’s eyes widened, I felt a tug at my hand. ‘Sorry,’ I told him. ‘Got to get these lads on the move. Tell Shirley I’ll explain later.’
14
‘Later’, turned out to be as soon as we got back from the ruins. She must have been watching for me from her window, for I had hardly turned into the street before she was out in the drive, as her son had been earlier.
I saw her coming and told the boys to go on ahead of me. They had enjoyed the ruins as much as I had known they would. Ever since his lucky escape after a fall in St Andrews Castle a few months before, Colin had been much easier to control; less liable to go crashing off to explore on his own, more likely to go along quietly, listening to what he was told.
‘What’s this John’s been telling me?’ Shirley asked breathlessly, holding the gate open for me. ‘Rey’s not dead after all?’
I didn’t step inside; instead, I leaned against one of the gateposts. ‘I don’t know about that,’ I cautioned her. ‘Those weren’t his bits in the pool; that’s all I can tell you.’
‘But the police have no reason to believe he’s dead?’ She sounded too eager for my liking. Shirl is pretty controlled as a rule, good at masking her feelings. I guessed that she had been more keen on Capulet than she’d admitted earlier.
‘No, they haven’t,’ I admitted. ‘But no one’s seen him for a year, remember. All of his property has been sold; not just Villa Bernabeu, but the other places as well. As far as L’Escala’s concerned he might as well be dead; he’s not coming back, Shirley.’
I felt rotten as the gleam of hope vanished from her eye, all the more so, since I had put it there in the first place. ‘No,’ she sighed. ‘I suppose not.’ Then, as if with a great effort she perked up. ‘Still,’ she went on, ‘it’s good to know that he didn’t end up at the deep end of his own pool. Do the police know whose body it is, then?’
‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘Remember the guy we were talking about in Jo’s that night?’
‘What? Sayeed the fisherman? The smuggler who went to prison?’
‘That’s the one; Sayeed Hassani. Only he didn’t get the nick; he got the bullet instead. It was him.’
‘So who put him there?’
‘The police are still working on that. They do want to talk to your pal Capulet, though, if they can ever find him. It begins to explain his disappearance, though. Maybe he had a fall-out with Sayeed, killed him over it and had to disappear as a result. Or maybe he had planned to disappear anyway and Sayeed was a loose end he had to tie off before he left.’
‘Maybe it wasn’t Rey at all,’ Shirley protested. ‘I seem to remember that Sayeed had a brother; a right bad lot he was too. Maybe they fell out. Maybe he did it.’
I knew that he’d have found it difficult from his prison cell, but I decided to leave her that one straw to clutch. ‘Maybe he did. I’m sure the police are talking to him about that even now. But I do know that they’re a lot more interested in finding Reynard Capulet than they were a couple of days ago.’
‘Well bugger him if they do,’ she said, tersely, yanking herself finally back into the real world. ‘I thought he fancied me, I really did. Stupid old woman that I am.’
‘That you are not,’ I shot back at her. ‘Why would he invite you to go to Florida with him if he didn’t mean it? Of course the bloke fancied you. Who wouldn’t?’
‘You don’t.’
‘Who says?’
‘Get away with you,’ she laughed. ‘I’m old enough to be your mother.’
‘In that case I’d better keep you and my dad well apart.’
‘Don’t you dare! I have to meet the bloke who spawned you.’
I took my cue. ‘Come for a drink tonight then. Make it around six thirty: we’ve got a table booked in Meson del Conde at half eight. Come with us if you like.’
‘Can’t do that,’ she said. ‘John and his girlfriend are taking me to Graham’s, in L’Escala, for a meal, but I’ll see you for that drink.’
‘Fine. Bring John and. . What’s her name?’
‘Virginie. No gags, please.’
‘I promise. See you then.’
Virginie turned out to be a tall, elegant Italian girl. . but aren’t they all?. . who spoke good English, although not very often. I couldn’t make up my mind whether she was shy in such a hearty group of Jocks abroad, or just naturally aloof.
Jonathan thought she was something else: he couldn’t take his eyes off her. As I looked at him, it struck me that I had known someone very similar. About twenty years back, I used to look at him in the mirror every day. I made a mental note to stay as close as I could to my older nephew for the next few years. I’ve been incredibly lucky in my life otherwise I could have turned into a real waster. No way will I let that happen to him.