‘A bit more stay up and go?’ she tittered.
‘You get my drift.’
‘A bit younger?’
‘No reason why not.’
‘Even someone half my age?’ I’d seen that cunning gleam in her eye before. I knew then that she was turning back into Shirley, even if I wasn’t going to where she was leading me.
‘That would be pushing it,’ I said, firmly. ‘But that does remind me; I’m having a celebration dinner with my nephew. .’
‘Oz’s nephew.’
‘Our nephew, my son’s cousin.’
‘Tongues are wagging already, you know.’
‘Any that wag within my hearing will be torn out, and you can feed that to the chattering class. Now, are you going to be all right?’
She nodded, square-shouldered normality once again. ‘Yeah. No harm done, eh. Nobody died.’
Considering what I’d seen earlier that afternoon, she could have chosen a better phrase. I shuddered, slightly, but she didn’t notice.
‘You’re not really going to try and find him are you?’ she continued.
‘Yes, I am. To satisfy my own curiosity, if nothing else. You probably did shag the poor man out of town, but you know me, Bloodhound Blackstone; when I get a scent in my nostrils, I have to follow.’
‘I know,’ she conceded. ‘Even if it gets you into terrible bloody bother as it has done often enough. Did you find anything out at the airport?’
‘Yup. He did hire a car, and we know now that he used it to come here and pick up his stuff. There’s every chance that as we speak he’s back at Girona, or some other airport, about to board a flight, or he’s driving north, from whence he came. As soon as I know for sure, I’ll be happy.’
‘And what will you do then?’
I hadn’t thought that far ahead, but the answer wasn’t hard to find. ‘If I can, I’ll speak to him, or if not, I’ll get a message to him suggesting that he owes you a better apology than what’s in that bloody note.’
‘Fair enough.’ She stood up, straight-backed, clear-eyed and smiling. ‘Go on then, woman; off home and doll yourself up for your date with Oz’s dishy nephew, and don’t be having him for dessert.’
Twelve
Jonny was home by the time we got there, and he was fretting, poor boy.
‘Please, Auntie P,’ he exclaimed, as soon as we’d climbed the stairs from the garage, ‘please don’t do that to me again. I’ve been worried sick. I thought you’d been in a smash or something. Your friend Ben just dropped the dog off. When he said he didn’t know where you were, I’d decided to call the police.’ He held up a book, my English-Spanish dictionary. ‘I wasn’t sure of the words for “traffic accident”. Then you walked in.’
I was hit by an immediate guilt wave; the biggest day of the lad’s life, and I’d put a damper on it. ‘Sorry, Jonny,’ I pleaded. ‘Something came up and I had to deal with it.’
‘Mr Cowling’s run away from Shirley,’ Tom volunteered.
‘No he hasn’t,’ I contradicted him. ‘He’s. .’ Then I stopped, for he was right.
My nephew’s frown melted into a grin. ‘Not up to the job, eh?’ he chuckled.
‘Nothing like that,’ I replied. ‘I’m sure he had his reasons.’ And I’m going to find out what they are, I added, mentally.
‘Then good luck to him,’ Jonny said, dismissively. ‘Where do you want to eat?’
I told him. ‘Can Roura, in the square. Tom’s going to watch Barcelona in Esculapi; we’ll be next door.’ I checked my watch; it showed seven fifty-five. ‘You go across there and book a table on the terrace, and I’ll begin the ever more laborious business of getting ready.’
I ran up the stairs to my room, heading for the shower, but with a call to make before I got there. I kept in touch with Mark Kravitz, as you did with an old friend, but we hadn’t spoken for a few months. When Patterson had dropped his name into conversation a few days before, he’d been making a point of saying that their orbits had never cut across each other. I’d been a little dubious about that at the time, since there are damn few people in the intelligence community that Mark didn’t know about, but it hadn’t occurred to me to check it out.
I don’t make Skype video calls very often, but I used it with Mark, because I liked to see for myself how he was doing. He’d been an MS sufferer for at least three years, but the disease was still in the primary stage, with lapses and then periods of remission. He put himself forward as a guinea pig for new treatments as they were developed, and they seemed to be giving him extended periods of stability, but if he was in a wheelchair when I called him on camera, I knew he was having a relapse. When he came on screen I was pleased to see that he looked okay, a little greyer, but no worse than he has done for the last couple of years.
‘Hey, girl,’ he greeted me, with a smile. ‘How’s your life?’
‘Interesting. How’s yours?’
‘Better than it’s been for a while. I’m on a new drug combination and it’s working. I’m more mobile than I’ve been in three years.’
‘That’s great,’ I said.
‘For now; they’re warning me that in six months or so the disease may have worked out a way round it and I’ll be back in my chair. But I’ll deal with that when it happens. What about you? Are you calling with the good news that your ex-priest’s coming back from Ireland to sweep you off your feet?’
‘No, the good news is that he isn’t. I’d gone off him anyway, and Tom’s made it clear that he isn’t desperate for a new dad.’
‘But he does accept that the original isn’t coming back, yes?’
‘Oh yes. He’s reconciled to it. But we do have a new man about the house.’
‘Ah,’ he laughed. ‘I thought you were even twinklier than usual.’
That was news to me. ‘Not in that way,’ I told him, firmly, then explained about Jonny’s arrival.
I’d bounced some serious stuff off Mark, in the course of our acquaintance, but I’d never seen him surprised before. ‘You’re kidding!’ he exclaimed. ‘I watched him win a golf tournament this afternoon; I’d no idea he was Oz’s nephew.’
‘Then you must have switched off before the presentation; he gave him a namecheck at the end of it. But he’s just one of the things that have happened to me in the last week.’
He winced; at first I thought it was a spasm of pain, but I was wrong. ‘Oh dear,’ he lamented. ‘I knew your life had been too quiet of late. What the hell’s up?’
‘Lots of stuff; my friend Alex, the Mossos d’Esquadra detective, is in charge of a very nasty double murder investigation, and I’ve been helping him, sort of. I was able to identify his victims, but that’s as far as I expect to be involved. No, it’s not my crisis this time; it’s my friend Shirley who’s been upset. She’s been led up the garden path by someone I thought was a gentleman, and I’m not about to let him get away with it.’
‘Then God help him,’ Mark said, cheerfully. ‘Who is he?’
‘Does the name Patterson Cowling mean anything to you?’
‘Should it? Is he the wrong-doer, the love rat?’
‘That’s him.’
‘Then I’m sorry; can’t help. Never heard of him. But what made you think I would have?’
I told him about my call to John Dale, and about his emphatic ‘Do not disturb!’ warning.
‘In which case,’ he said, slowly, ‘don’t you think you should take it to heart?’
‘The hell I will! Shirley’s hurt. The guy got up and left her, without a word, right in the middle of the golf tournament. He went back to her place, packed his gear, and walked out, leaving her nothing but a pathetic little note. I’m not going to let him get away with that; I’m going to find him and make him apologise properly.’
‘Are you sure you’re only annoyed for your friend?’ A shrewd question, by someone who knew me well.
‘Maybe not,’ I conceded. ‘I liked the man, Mark. I feel like he’s made a fool of me as well.’
He frowned, and scratched his chin. I noticed that his hand trembled a little. ‘Be that as it may, Primavera. This man seems to be a retired spook, and you’ve been warned off by his masters. How are you planning to find him? I tell you now, I will be of limited help; security service records ain’t covered by Freedom of Information.’