A Coffin For Two

11

For all that it’s a small town, with an off-season population that would fit into the Wheatfield Grandstand at Tynecastle Park, with a few seats left over, L’Escala has its own radio station.

We listened to the first hourly news bulletin after we made it back to St Marti. It was in Catalan, but we could follow enough to be sure that there was no mention of a body having been found on the outskirts of town. There was nothing in the Costa Brava section of La Vanguardia, or L‘Avui, which we bought in town before catching the Carrilet home. There were big stories about the important Roman find in St Marti, with a photo of Miguel and young Jordi in L’Avui, but nowhere was there any mention of the former occupant of the stone coffin’s top bunk.

We strolled round to the square after dinner on the terrace. Miguel had been right about the extra visitors. They had begun to arrive already, in droves, and we had trouble finding a table outside Casa Minana. When we had, Miguel brought us two beers automatically. I motioned to him to the spare seat beside us.

‘Prim and I went to visit our friend this afternoon. The one we saw last in Riells on Tuesday morning. I found his watch and I wanted to give it back to him.’ A brief look of panic flashed across our friend’s face, for an instant. ‘The trouble was, he’s gone.’

Miguel gulped, but otherwise managed to stay impassive.

‘You haven’t heard of him being moved anywhere, have you?’

He shook his head. ‘No. Nothing,’ he said, quietly. ‘I was sure he would be found. There are shepherds up there, with dogs.’ Beside me, Prim gave a barely noticeable shudder. ‘But not this soon.’

He paused. ‘We will look at the newspapers for the next day or two, and at the Empordan, the newspaper for here, when it is published. If there is nothing in that, my wife has a sister who has a son who is married to a woman who is in the municipal police in L’Escala. I will ask my wife to ask him to find out if the police know anything. But I will be … I’m sorry, I don’t know the word.’

‘Discreet, Miguel,’ said Prim. ‘The word is discreet!’