He frowned for a moment before continuing. 'So far so good. We were due to complete both transactions at Easter, before the notary in L'Escala, only there was a hitch. The Comforts were involved in a bad car accident in March and were both hospitalised. We thought that the whole thing might collapse, but the Comforts gave power of attorney to a local lawyer, and we went to completion of both sale and purchase. Santi, the builder of our new place, the Comforts' lawyer, Jean and I all turned up at the notary's office. We had a certified cheque for two-point-eight million, the balance of our purchase price, on top of what we were due for the old place. We did our sale first. The notary took us through the deed, noted the price and we were all ready to sign on the dotted. But when the Comforts' lawyer presented their cheque, it was only for three-point-seven million, not the four-point-two we were expecting. We looked at Santi, and he looked puzzled. He swore blind that he had only received one million from Ainscow. We showed the lawyer our receipt from Santi, but he showed us a receipt given to the Comforts by Ainscow for one shy;-point-five million pesetas. I have copies of them both in here.' He tapped the yellow file.
Skinner looked across the table. Pitkeathly's brow was knotted with concern. 'So what did you do?'
`We didn't have much choice. We could have scrapped the deal with the Comforts, but frankly, we needed their cheque, even if it was half a million light. So we went through with it, and I wrote a second cheque on our Spanish bank account for the missing half million, assuming, or hoping at least, that it was all a misunderstanding and that Santi would sort it out with Ainscow.'
`And didn't he?'
`No. He told us that Ainscow was on holiday in America. So we said, sod it all; we decided to forget about it until we got home, and to clear things up ourselves with Ainscow. We spent the rest of our trip fitting out our new apartment. Quite frankly, if it did cost us half a million more, we've still got a bargain.' `And have you seen Ainscow?'
No, not yet. He wasn't due back from the States until last Friday, according to Santi. I did call his office once, but there was no reply. Eventually, Jean and I decided that it would be better to speak to the police. I hope you agree with us. It's no small sum after all, well over two thousand pounds, and it's more than a bit suspicious. I mean, even if Ainscow says sorry, it's all a mistake, and gives us half a million pesetas, how can we be sure that he isn't covering up? Maybe there are other people in the same boat as us.'
`Or maybe Alberni's the one on the fiddle. Don't you see that as equally likely?'
Pitkeathly shook his head. `Santi's as honest as the day is long. I'm convinced of that.'
`Hmm,' said Skinner sceptically. 'They have shorter days than us in Spain for a good chunk of the year! Greg, I'm a policeman. I'm never convinced until I see the proof. If you give me that file, I'll look at everything that's in there. From what you've told me, there's been a theft all right, but it's just as likely, maybe even more likely, that it took place in Spain, not in Scotland. Still, you were quite right to bring it to me, rather than deal with it yourself. If Ainscow is a conman, then he'd probably talk his way out of it. If Alberni's bent, you're obviously far too chummy with him to suspect it. If they're both in on it, then all of the company's business will need to be investigated, here and in Spain. And if it is all a mistake, then it's one that should never have happened. A visit from the police will make sure that they're more careful with clients' funds in future.'
He reached across the table. 'Here. Gimme your file, and a business card too, so I can get it back to you. Do you have copies, or would you like me to send you a set?'
Pitkeathly handed over the file. 'Those are my only copies, but I don't need duplicates. What will you do?'
`I'll read this lot, and then I'll probably go out to interview Ainscow myself. That'll get his attention.'
`What if he proves to you that Santi is responsible, and that the theft occurred in Spain?'
`If that happens, I'll take your documents with me when I go to L'Escala next week. I know Arturo Pujol, the local Guardia commander, on a copper-to-copper basis. His boys keep a special eye on my properties. If it looks like Santi's the man, I'll just hand a copy of your file over to Pujol. I might have to ask you to file a complaint at the consulate in due course, but otherwise, it should be painless for you. I should warn you, though, if Alberni is a thief, you won't see your missing half million for a hell of a long time, if ever. The Spanish criminal justice system is slower than God's mills. On top of that, Greg, if he's convicted, you'll have to sue him for recovery, and their civil courts can be even slower.'
`Maybe I should just forget it all, in that case, and swallow my loss'
`Too late for that now. You've shown me evidence of a possible crime in this country, so now I have a duty to investigate it. Even if it does turn into a Spanish matter, I have a sort of ethical duty to pass it on to them. Now that you've started the ball rolling, it has to go all the way down the hill'
`Ah, well,' said Pitkeathly. 'So the die is cast for Mr Ainscow and Santi. In that case, there's nothing for it now but to finish Mr V's fine wine!'
Twenty
Have you had a chance to read those papers I gave you on Wednesday, Brian?' Behind his desk in the inner office of the Special Branch suite at Fettes Avenue, Chief Inspector Brian Mackie nodded his balding head.
`What do you make of it?'
`Nothing really, boss. From what you told me, Pitkeathly thinks the sun shines out of Alberni's arse, but that alone doesn't put him in the clear. I've faxed the Spanish equivalent of the CRO and asked them to run a check on him for any previous. I've had a look through ours already for Mr Paul Ainscow. He's clean as a whistle. Chances are it was all a mistake.'
Skinner pushed himself up from the table on which he had been sitting. `I'm not so sure. There are some terrible cowboys in the property game out there. They take outrageous commissions. They make false declarations to the notary on price — with the collusion of the banks — so as to beat the taxman. They complete sales of properties when the developer doesn't even own all the land he's building on. All that stuff's happened in the wee town where my own place is, and in hundreds more like it. So, when the odd half-million pesetas goes missing in a property transaction, probability falls on the side of theft, not human error. I called my friend Pujol in L'Escala on Tuesday evening, and asked him about Alberni. He said that he's a nice enough guy, but he's not local, so no one really knows all that much about him. The local gossip has it, though, that he's pretty heavily borrowed. He's just moved into a big new house, yet his wife has two jobs, to help pay for it, they say.'
'A motive for theft, then.'
`Sure, but what thief needs a motive?'
Mackie leaned back in his chair and gazed at the ceiling. `Aye, right enough.' He paused for a moment, then looked across at Skinner, as he stood by the window.
`What's to be done about Ainscow, then, boss?'