The further I got into my story the darker the driver’s expression grew. Why did I lay it on? Simples, as that meerkat used to say. If I’d told him that Shirley’s boyfriend had done a runner, had second thoughts and buggered off, there was a better than even chance, no, much better than even, that I’d have run into the male solidarity thing. But show him a woman robbed, rather than a woman wronged, and by an Englishman at that. .
Perhaps I’m doing the man an injustice; perhaps he’d have helped us anyway, but I’ve lived in Spain for long enough to know that for those of a certain age, as he was, it’s still a male-dominated society. I described Patterson in detail, from his immaculate brown coiffeur to his sensible shoes.
‘Hold on,’ he growled. ‘I’ll ask around.’ He waved his fellow drivers to him and they went into conference. When they were done, he turned back to me, and shook his head. ‘None of us picked him up,’ he said. National Guard it is, then, I was thinking, when he added, ‘But hold on, I’ll get on the radio and check the other guys.’
He got into his cab. I watched him reach for a small hand mike on a wire and speak into it, then wait. Within no more than half a minute he was speaking again, then nodding, his eyes brighter and more alert. When his CB exchange was over, he climbed out. ‘Yes,’ he announced. ‘The guy who left a minute or two ago, with a couple and their kids, he says he picked up a man just like that, five, maybe six hours ago. Is that time about right?’
‘Spot on. Does he remember where he dropped him?’
‘Sure. The airport; Girona Airport. He thought it was unusual, because the guy had no luggage at all, not even a small bag.’
I whistled. ‘So he’s well gone.’
‘For sure. Your friend will never see her rings again, and she’d better cancel her cards.’ He looked at Shirley. ‘I’m sorry, lady,’ he said, in English. ‘You’ve been done.’
The same thought had occurred to her, even without the elaboration of my cover story, for she burst into tears.
I gave the guy a twenty; he refused at first, but I insisted. It was only right, since I’d deceived him a little. I hustled Shirley away, waiting until she’d composed herself before giving her the full story.
‘The airport,’ she repeated. ‘But that’s crazy. He didn’t bring his passport. I know that for sure, I saw it on the dressing table this morning. I said he should put it in my safe, and he said he would when we got back. I know he left it. But why else would he go there, if not to catch a flight?’
‘To catch the Barcelona bus,’ Tom pointed out. Of course, he’d heard the entire discussion with the cabbie, and his Catalan is better than mine.
‘There’s that,’ I agreed, ‘or maybe to hire a car. Shirl, do you know whether he had his driving licence on him?’
She nodded. ‘Yes, I told him he should carry it all the time, in case he was ever asked for ID with a credit card. But only the plastic bit, not the paper licence, and you need both to hire a car, don’t you?’
‘Technically,’ I agreed, ‘but they don’t usually bother with the counterpart here.’ I considered our tactics. ‘You go home,’ I said eventually, ‘just in case there’s a bizarre but innocent explanation for all this and he’s sitting there waiting for you. He does have a key, doesn’t he?’
‘Of course.’ She gasped. ‘And he knows the safe combination. What if-’
‘Stop it!’ I commanded. ‘We’re miles away from there yet. He was a nice man at breakfast-time and chances are he still is. I repeat, you go home; we’ll head for the airport and check out the car rental desks.’
‘And the ticket office for the buses,’ Tom added, helpfully.
‘That’s right,’ I nodded. ‘There too, if we have to. We’ll call you if we have anything to report.’
Shirley was still badly shaken, but I judged. . or maybe I hoped. . that she was fit to drive. She was okay at least as far as the airport exit on the autopista, for I followed her there, before I turned off. The terminal building at Girona Airport has almost disappeared within a small city of multi-storey car parks. Local knowledge led me to pick the oldest, even if the walk was a little further. As we entered the concourse, it occurred to me that I might have a wait on my hands, but we struck it lucky. There was an early evening lull in flight arrivals and there were no queues at any of the car hire windows.
Judging that the staff might not part with customer information just for the asking, I had another cover story worked out. My father, Mr Patterson Cowling, had been due to arrive that afternoon and had planned to hire a car for a business trip. He was a sales representative, so I had no clear idea of his route; a family emergency had arisen, his mobile was down and I had to get in touch with him. Had they supplied him with a car and, if so, what was the drop-off point? If I knew that, I might be able to contact him there.
I spun them the yarn, wearing my most anxious expression. Hertz were sympathetic, but hadn’t rented a car to anyone of that name. Avis tried even harder, but neither had they. Nor had Europcar. It was only when I got to the last window, that of a local outfit called Bettamotos, that I ran into a spirit of total non-cooperation.
The guy at the desk was forty-something, with bad skin, bad breath and a bad attitude. He must have been practising obduracy all his life. He let me finish my tale and then shook his head, very slowly. ‘No,’ he said, with a virtual line drawn under it.
‘No he didn’t, or no you can’t tell me?’
‘We do not give customer information.’
‘But it’s an emergency,’ I pleaded, not altogether a lie.
‘We do not give customer information.’
‘Does that mean that he is your customer, but you’re not going to tell me?’
‘I’m not saying that at all. We don’t give customer information, is all.’
I gave him my best blonde smile. ‘Not even to me?’
‘No chance.’
I withdrew the smile. ‘One last chance,’ I offered instead.
‘Or you’ll do what?’ he sneered.
‘This.’ I took out my mobile, and held it up for him to see. ‘Call me Aladdin,’ I said, ‘and consider this a magic lamp. I am now going to summon the genie.’ Beside me, Tom chuckled.
I keyed Alex’s number. He answered straight away. ‘Primavera, I was-’
That could wait. ‘Where are you?’
‘At the Novotel, in Christine McGuigan’s room.’
‘Good. I’ve got a problem, and now I need your help. With everything else that’s on your plate I didn’t want to bother you, but I have no choice. Remember a couple of days ago, I promised to keep an eye on Patterson Cowling and let you know if anything odd happened around him?’
‘Yes, although we both knew you didn’t really mean it.’
‘Maybe so, but this is my first report. He’s disappeared.’
‘What?’
‘From the golf tournament, in broad daylight, without a word to Shirley, or me. So far I’ve established that he took a taxi to the airport; that’s where I am now. I know he couldn’t have caught a flight. . no passport-’
It was his turn to cut me off. ‘Could he have been taken?’
‘It’s not likely. He was alone in the taxi. I’m trying to find out whether he hired a car, but there’s a difficulty. There’s a roadblock at a thing called Bettamotos.’
‘Wait there.’ The line went dead. I waited for a minute or so, then stepped back to the desk.
‘Where’s your genie, Aladdin?’ the clerk chuckled. ‘Your lamp not working?’
‘It takes a few minutes to heat up. Oh, I should have warned you; he’s very bad-tempered after I’ve wakened him.’
He looked at me as if I was nuts. I let him go on believing that for a little longer, until a Mossos d’Esquadra vehicle pulled up in the bus bay outside.
‘That’s him,’ I said.