Inhuman Remains

Twenty-six

There was no chance that Sebastian, or anyone else, was on our tail … the terrain was such that we’d have seen them a kilometre off. . and so, instead of hiding out, I drove back the way we had come, turned into the Gualta Pitch and Putt course, and parked the Jeep.

‘Where are we going now?’ Frank asked, a little irritably. I think he sensed that I was taking control of the operation. He was right too. I was on ground I knew, and I reckoned that gave me an advantage.

‘I feel the need of a beer,’ I told him, ‘or a glass of white wine.’ I led the way into the club house and to the bar. We found a table outside, in the shade, and I ordered drinks. ‘Tom’s having golf lessons,’ I volunteered. ‘I bring him here.’

‘I’ll bet he’s good,’ Frank muttered. He sounded a little jealous. Would you believe it?

‘He is,’ I admitted cheerfully. ‘Lovely swing for a seven year old, the pro says. His dad was a good player; his grandpa Blackstone still is, and so’s his cousin Jonny. In the autumn he’s going to college in Arizona, on a golf scholarship.’

‘Lucky lad,’ he growled.

‘Listen to you,’ I retorted. ‘You had a Cambridge education, then chucked it all away trying to prove you were the cleverest lad on the block.’

‘Bloody well am, too. I got away with the three hundred thou I’ve stashed in Switzerland.’

‘You got away with it? You did five and a half years inside for it. And will it support you for the rest of your life?’

‘It might, if the Canadian catches up with us,’ he pointed out.

‘To hell with Sebastian. I told you, we think positive from now on.’

He shot me a wry smile. ‘So, Detective Blackstone, what do we do next? We had a lead, and now we don’t.’

‘We wait. It’s their move.’

‘What if they don’t make it?’ He was deadly serious again. ‘What if they go ahead and kill my mum?’

‘What would they have to gain by that,’ I put to him, ‘even in two days, when the so-called deadline expires? You’d be an even bigger danger to them if they killed her. She’s a bargaining chip; they need her to get you. Why did Willie send that video? Not to prove they have her; we know that. He did it to prove she’s alive.’

‘What if they send me her ear through the post?’

‘How? Through your old Sevilla post-office box number? I don’t think they’ll expect you to be emptying that any time soon. Trust me, the next step is theirs.’

We sat there and watched the day wear on, until it was well past six, and until I would not have been driving anywhere else with just one more beer. I went to the ladies’, put some of it back into the system, then called to Frank from the terrace doorway: ‘Come on. Time we were going.’

‘Where?’

‘To our bolt-hole. It’s only ten minutes away.’

In fact it took longer. The traffic into Torroella de Montgri was screwed up, thanks to punters going home from the beach at Pals, then we found ourselves behind the inevitable tractor, and so half an hour had passed by the time we arrived in L’Escala, and at Shirley’s. I phoned her as we turned into her street, and she opened her massive sliding gate so that I could drive straight in. Her garden wall is even higher than the one round Masia Josanto. The place is a fortress, complete with a look-out tower on top that reminds me of Oz’s old loft in Edinburgh, where he and I first. .

She was waiting for us at the top of the staircase that leads to her door, wearing the usual swimsuit but with a sarong wrapped round it. She hugged Frank, almost enveloping him, as I introduced him. ‘Come on through, the pair of you. You look bushed. Go on out to the pool while I get some drinks.’

‘Just water for me!’ I called after her. I know the way, so I led Frank through to the garden and to Shirley’s enormous pool, one of the biggest in any house in L’Escala. I was unbuttoning my top before he closed the glass-panelled door behind me. I peeled it off, unfastened my skirt and let it fall, stepped out of my pants, and dived straight in. Maybe I’d have been a little more modest if I hadn’t had the beers, but he’d seen the territory, even if he wasn’t getting close to it again.

‘That’s our Primavera.’ Shirley laughed as she carried a tray from the kitchen. ‘She always prefers skinny-dipping,’ she revealed to Frank. ‘There’s a nudie beach along the coast. She and I go there sometimes, when Tom’s in school. Don’t mind me if you want to join her in there. If you’re shy, go and have a rummage in that box outside the summer-house. There’s all sorts in there; you’re bound to find something to fit.’

He took her at her word, and re-emerged after a couple of minutes, wearing a pair of red shorts. I hadn’t seen Frank’s body before, in a proper light. For all that he was lightly built, his muscles were well defined, and he looked fit, in the way a runner does, or a feather-weight boxer.

By that time Shirley had joined me in the pool: I caught her eyeing him up as well. ‘Trim little chap, your cousin,’ she whispered. ‘I’ve made up those two beds like you asked, but if you’re really not wanting, you can always send him across to the big house.’ She was joking, of course, although with her, you can never be a hundred per cent sure.

We swam for a while, until I felt parched again. I climbed the steps that led out of the pool, feeling the day’s fading heat on my body as I walked over to the place where Shirley had dumped some big white towels, and feeling Frank’s eyes as well. There were two robes there, also. I slipped one on, gathered up my clothes, and headed for the summer-house. ‘I might have a nap, Shirl,’ I said. ‘When’s supper?’

‘Half nine okay?’

‘Fine by me.’ I looked in the big box as I passed by, and found a bikini inside, one of mine that I’d left there after a pool party. I took it with me.

By the time Frank came to join me, I was wearing it, and my hair was towelled dry. He looked around the bungalow’s living area, and at the murals that decorate it. ‘These are fantastic,’ he exclaimed. ‘Who did them?’

‘An old artist friend of Shirley’s. His name was Davidoff. He lived here for a while and he painted them for her. There are more, in the bedrooms.’

He whistled. ‘If you’d said it was Dalí, I’d have believed you. Is he still around?’

I shook my head, hoping he couldn’t see my eyes as I remembered him. ‘No,’ I replied. ‘He died ten years back.’

‘Did you meet him?’

‘Yes, but that’s another story, for another time.’

‘Speaking of bedrooms. .’ he began.

‘Yours is the far-away one; mine’s next door. Bathroom’s in between. I’m off for a kip.’

I left him to whatever he had in mind, set my mobile to wake me at nine fifteen, and lay down on the bed. In little or no time, I was asleep and dreaming, of an ancient artist, and a strong, reckless, much younger man.

When I awoke, my pillow was damp, and not with sweat. The bathroom was empty, and so I took a quick shower, arranged my hair in a more or less presentable form, slipped my bikini back on, and went outside.

Frank and Shirley were there already, lolling in white garden chairs set around a low table, drinking cava and eating crisps. They were laughing, and both looked up, sharply, as I approached, making me wonder briefly if they had been talking about me. ‘He’s some kiddie, your cousin,’ she said. ‘He’s been telling me about his time in the nick, and about the perils of dropping the soap.’

‘The guy we saw this afternoon had no trouble believing that he picked it up often enough.’ I chuckled. For a fraction of a second Frank frowned. That’s all it was, and then it was gone, but I wasn’t mistaken. I wondered if I’d been close to the mark. I hadn’t considered it before, but he’s a pretty guy, and we all know the jail stories.

Luckily, Shirley didn’t hit on that. Instead she asked, ‘What’s the problem with the house?’

‘The water’s polluted,’ I told her. I hated lying to my best girlfriend, but no way was I going to involve her in what we were up to. ‘Something got into the tank. It happened just when Tom was due to leave for Monaco, and I was heading south to meet Frank in Sevilla.’

‘Nasty; that happened to me once. Stop here for as long as it takes.’ She poured me a glass of bubbly. ‘Get into that and talk among yourselves while I finish the risotto.’

I disobeyed, as I often do with Shirley. I picked up my glass and followed her into the kitchen, watching her as she transferred rice from a pot into the big wok that she uses for the purpose, then added peas, prawns, diced squid and a liberal amount of cava.

‘You sure you’re not shaggin’ him?’ she asked abruptly. ‘You had it all on show for him this afternoon.’

‘He’s family,’ I said, to fend her off.

‘Not that close,’ she pointed out. ‘From what he tells me, he’d only ever met you about three times before this, and it’s not as if he’s your brother or anything. Your aunt screwed a sailor on holiday and he popped out, according to the story you told me.’

‘And it’s true,’ I confirmed.

‘He thinks you’re a goddess, you know.’

‘Gerroff.’

‘No kidding. That’s what he says. He says that now he’s really got to know you, he sees you as twice the woman your sister is, and he’s besotted with her. But he thinks that underneath it all, you’re sad, and lonely.’

‘Cheeky little bastard!’ I exclaimed, but I couldn’t help thinking about what Tom had said to me, a few days before.

‘Is he wrong?’

‘I’m neither of those things. I’ve got Tom. What he sees just now is me missing him.’

‘Prim, Tom’s a little boy. What Frank sees, like we all do, is you missing his dad.’

I looked at her as she mixed the rice, helping it absorb the liquid. ‘Is that really what you think?’

‘It’s what we all know, me, Alex, all your friends.’ She paused, to give the pot a vigorous stir. ‘Frank told me,’ she went on, ‘that when he needed it most, you helped him.’

‘Did he say how?’

‘No, he just said that he wishes he could do the same for you. Maybe you should let him.’

‘But why must I need help? Maybe sad and lonely suits me best.’

‘Then that really would be sad, girl.’

I was pondering that comment as she finished. I carried the plates, cutlery and glasses out to the garden table, the cook following with the risotto wok, ready to dish up.

It was fabulous, as always, and afterwards, the bread-and-butter pudding was just as good, although I didn’t have much. With my lifestyle, it’s too easy to put on weight, so I tend to eat small portions. I laid off the wine too: I reckoned I’d had enough alcohol for the day, given that I might need to be as sharp as possible over the next twenty-four hours. Frank didn’t, though: he tucked in good-style. It’s amazing, the way little guys can stow the grub away. He and Shirley killed a bottle of Esmeralda between them, and had a couple of Bailey’s over coffee. As he drained his glass, he looked around the garden, which seemed to shimmer and sparkle under the effect of the pool’s underwater lights. ‘Lovely place, Shirley,’ he said.

‘It suits me,’ she replied quietly. It’s too big for her, of course. Sometimes I think she’d really like to move, only she has too much of her life tied up in it to pass it on to someone else.

‘Must be worth a fortune.’

‘Probably, but to me it’s priceless. So’s Prim’s house, for that matter.’

‘Which I’ve never seen.’

‘You will tomorrow,’ I told him. His eyes widened, but he said nothing. ‘I have to check it out, and pick up some stuff,’ I added, in explanation.

‘Tomorrow’s nearly here,’ Shirley pointed out, rising from her chair, and gathering up the plates. Frank helped her pile them into the wok, then followed her into the house, carrying the glasses, cups and bottles on a tray. ‘Night, Prim,’ my friend called to me. ‘Think on what I said.’

I watched them go, then slipped off my bikini and walked slowly to the far end of her damn great pool: as she said, I really do prefer to swim unencumbered. I stood for a few moments, naked under the moon, then dived in. When I surfaced, Frank was back, standing on the edge, looking down at me, at my brown body, in the ever-shifting light.

‘Don’t,’ I told him. ‘Either come in or piss off and let me swim.’

‘Since you put it like that. .’ he turned and started to walk towards the summer-house. . then stopped and turned back, kicking off his shoes and reaching for his belt. It was my turn to watch as he undressed. I rolled on to my back and paddled away from him, back towards the deep end. He had very little body hair, I noticed idly, as he stepped out of his briefs. He ran towards the pool and dived in, expertly, barely making a splash. He came up for air, thinking he was alongside me, but I had moved away, into shallower water once more.

‘Don’t get any ideas,’ I told him. ‘We’re swimming, and that’s it.’

‘I’m not about to.’ He laughed. ‘Anyway, the water’s too cold.’

I made a choice. I don’t know why. Maybe what Shirley said had got to me, or maybe not; maybe I simply wanted to see if I could do better than the night before. Whatever, I made a choice and, to this day, I can say honestly I’ve never regretted it. ‘That’s pretty defeatist talk,’ I murmured, ‘if you don’t mind me saying so.’ I swam closer, and reached for him. ‘It’s also a lie.’

He followed me as I swam across to the side of the pool, and spread my arms wide along the concrete edging, supporting myself. He dived, and I felt him lick me, then fondle me, then slide easily into me as he surfaced. ‘Wow,’ he whispered in my ear, as he reached out, put his arms around my neck, drew his legs up to part mine a little more, and. .

We took our time over it, as long as we could make it last, but when he could hold back no longer, he came, and I did too, crying, ‘Yes!’ loud enough to make me hope that Shirley was asleep, or I’d never hear the end of it. I held him inside until he began to subside, kissing him, nuzzling him. ‘Okay,’ I whispered, as I felt him leave me. ‘Now can I swim?’

He laughed. ‘For as long as you like; but I think if I tried now, I’d drown. I’ve never had it under water before. It takes it out of the legs. I’m off to bed.’

I didn’t join him, not in his, at any rate. I thought about it as I swam lengths of the big pool, ridiculously pleased with myself, but I decided that any more intimacy might suggest an attachment. Instead I resolved to treat him as Auntie Ade had probably treated his dad thirty-five years before; strictly ‘so long, and thanks for the memory’. The consequences of Adrienne’s encounter with the doomed Kotaro crossed my mind briefly, since I’ve been off the pill for years, but I was only a couple of days past my period, so I decided, rightly as it turned out, that there was no risk, without ever considering the possible contraceptive effects of submarine copulation.

I was lost in my thoughts as I walked up the steps and out of the water, and as I dried myself with one of Shirley’s big white towels, until a sound to my left broke through. I glanced at the glazed garden door and saw her framed in it, smiling. She winked at me, then disappeared into her fortress.

The door of Frank’s bedroom was open, an invitation, I had no doubt. I could see him in the light from the corridor, lying naked, on his back, asleep. I confess that I almost did settle down beside him, but my resolution held and I walked on, closing my own door behind me.