A Coffin For Two

40

I gave Eddie half an hour to settle in and have his first coffee of the day, then made the call, at around ten-thirty our time.

‘Christ, Oz,’ he barked by way of greeting. ‘What the f … is it this time? I thought we were even.’

‘We were. After this, I’ll owe you one. The other day, you said there had been no action on the guy Starr’s cards for about a year. I’d like to know what the last action was; where the cards were used and when.’

‘You wh …’There was a long silence. I was relieved when it turned out to have been pregnant. ‘You are sure that this guy is kaput, aren’t you, China?’

‘Dead certain, you might say. It is important, Eddie, honest.’

‘Okay.’ There was another pause, shorter this time. ‘When are you due home again?’ my source asked.

‘Inside a month. But I need this before then.’

‘Relax, I’ll call you back tonight. But when you come home, I want a case of beer. Good stuff, mind, none of your weak French crap.’

I laughed. At Spanish prices, if Eddie’s information paid off, I would be getting off lightly.

Prim and I put in a conscientious day’s work, gathering information from the Consulate, and from the Barcelona Chamber of Commerce. I even attempted a conversation in Spanish, and was astonished to find that I could make sense of what I was told.

It was just after seven when the phone rang. ‘Forget the beer,’ said Eddie. ‘I want a case of Rioja. Yes?’

I sighed. My pal wasn’t a quick thinker, but he always got there eventually. ‘Okay, you’re on. It’d better be worth it, though.’

‘You can tell me,’ he said. ‘Your man’s Visa was last used in Spain on the twelfth of September last year. He bought petrol with it, in a place called Verges. He seems to have taken his car over there.’

I took a deep breath. ‘You don’t know …’

Eddie laughed. ‘He bought it on finance three years ago. The last payment was made in July last year. A Renault Five, L 213 NQZ. Who’s a clever boy, then?’

‘You are mate, you are. What else?’

‘The Mastercard was used last on the twenty-fifth of September, last year again. He paid a restaurant bill with it in a place called Pubol. That’s P, U, B, O, L. He signed for a debit of seven thousand pesetas. How much is that in real money?’

I barely heard the question. ‘Oh,’ I replied at last, ‘about thirty-five quid. What was the restaurant called?’

‘It doesn’t say, just Ristorante.’

‘How about other debits?’

‘The three before that were in a bar stroke cafe in a place called La Pera. Need any more?’

I beamed across the table at Prim, who was watching me intently. ‘No, Eddie. That’s great. You’ve earned that Rioja, China. In fact we might even throw in the beer as well!’