On Honeymoon With Death ob-5

by Quintin Jardine

  ‘You were here, Vero, with Capulet, in this house. Do you have any ideas about what, or where, this thing might be?’

  She stood up. ‘Take me to bed,’ she demanded.

  ‘Vero, I’m serious.’

  ‘So am I. Take me to bed and then I’ll tell you what I think.’

  She made it up the staircase under her own power this time. I was quite pleased about that. She’s a bigger girl than either Susie or Prim.

  I did my absolute best for Scotland, as they say, and she did hers for Catalunya. After a while we lost track of time, but eventually, when all the heavy breathing, sweating, shoving and shouting was over, I noticed that we’d been at it for a good forty minutes. I found myself wondering when Ramon usually got home for his tea.

  ‘Okay,’ I said to her, summoning up a threatening tone that I’d been practising for my next movie role. ‘You gonna spill the beans now, or do I have to do all that again?’

  She laughed out loud and pulled herself up until she was sitting with her back against the shiny frame of the big brass bed. Then she reached up and over her shoulder with her right hand, grabbed the big knob which topped the post, and twisted it, clockwise, as hard as she could.

  It began to unscrew, slowly and stiffly.

  I watched her, fascinated, then jumped over her and out of bed, taking over from her. The big brass dome was screwed into the post, not just slid in there, but the normal thread pattern was reversed. Even if they had thought to look there, John and Lucille would have tried to unscrew it in the normal way, anticlockwise, and the thing wouldn’t have budged.

  It took a while, but eventually the heavy knob came loose and I lifted it out. There was a chain attached to it, and on the end a cylindrical metal container, like the kind they used to have in some big department stores in the days before credit cards when all the cash transactions were completed and change given in a central counting house, connected by tubes to all the sales points. I’ve never seen that system, but my dad described it to me in detail, one day in Edinburgh. That’s what I thought of when I saw Reynard Capulet’s secret treasure.

  The lid of the box unscrewed too, but in the normal way. I opened it and shook out on to the bed, eight long keys on a ring, and a single sheet of paper.

  ‘They’re for safe-deposit boxes,’ said Veronique quietly. ‘Rey turned all his real wealth into bonds and diamonds and kept it in locations all over Europe. Each box has two keys. Rey had one, his sister held the other. But only Rey knew where they all are, and that piece of paper there is the only record of the addresses of the banks where they are kept and the names in which the boxes are held.

  ‘I know this because I walked in on him once, while he was putting a new key into the box and adding its details to the paper. I thought he would be angry at first, but he just said, “Now you know where the Capulet riches are hidden. Of course, if you tell anyone, I will have to kill you, and them.” He smiled when he said it, but I knew that he meant it.’

  ‘Jesus,’ I whistled. ‘This is dangerous stuff.’

  Vero’s right hand flew to her breast. ‘What if they are still watching this house?’

  I looked at her. ‘I wish. I want to meet young Mr Gash again; I’ve got some real pain in store for him. But if they are, they’ll know we’ve found Rey’s body, and that they’ll be rumbled.’

  I picked up the bedside telephone. ‘It’s time I called in your old man again. Better get your kit on and beat it home, unless you want to be here when he arrives.’

  ‘Maybe I do. And why not? He’s never going to believe that you found this hiding place all on your own, in a day, when other people have been looking for it for a year.’

  ‘Okay, but meet me halfway on this. Get dressed and be downstairs before he gets here.’

  37

  In deference to Veronique. . not that she was too bothered. . I changed the sheets and aired the bedroom for a good ten minutes after I called her husband.

  He didn’t say anything when I let him in and he saw her there. He didn’t have to; his eyes did it for him. For an instant I thought we were going to have to do the macho thing right enough, but his wife crushed him with a few words.

  ‘I have often wondered how good a policeman you really are,’ she said to him, speaking in Spanish rather than Catalan, to make certain that I understood too. ‘Now I know. Senor Blackstone. .’ Nice touch, I thought, to sweep away any thought of familiarity between us. ‘. . is a civilian, and yet he had an idea all on his own, one which the entire Mossos d’Esquadra overlooked.’

  Fortunato looked at me, as if he was glad of an excuse to escape his wife’s withering gaze. ‘What does she mean?’

  I tossed him Capulet’s key-ring. ‘That’s what they’ve been after. His set of keys to his treasure house; his sister has the others, but she doesn’t know where the boxes are.

  ‘I was told that your wife and the Frenchman had a relationship once, so it occurred to me that she could have an idea about where they might be hidden. She did.’

  He nodded. ‘Very good, my dear. Very good, Oz. But I don’t suppose she could tell you who “They” are. . or “Him”, at least.’

  ‘She didn’t have to.’ I picked up my dad’s Hogmanay snapshot and handed it to him.

  He stared at it, pop-eyed, taking in the face below the ‘X’. ‘The son of Senora Gash? What makes you say that?’

  ‘My father showed that picture to Susie Gantry. She identified him as the man in JoJo’s; the guy who spiked her drink. I sold him Capulet’s old car; to be broken into parts, I thought, and shipped to Russia. He tore it apart looking for those keys, and the paper that goes with them, pointing the way to all his safe-deposit hoard.’

  I paused. ‘Have you had that photo from Interpol yet?’ I asked him.

  ‘Of Lucille Capulet? Yes.’

  ‘Right. So take a look at John’s girlfriend and picture her with glasses and darker hair.’

  His pop-eyes went narrow. ‘Puta,’ he whispered.

  ‘Shirley thinks they went home last week, only they didn’t. They hung around, trying everything they could to clear me out of this house.’ I laughed. ‘They should just have killed me. . No fucking way you’d have caught them, if you’d even tried.’

  He ignored the crack. ‘Are you saying they are still here?’

  ‘I don’t know, chum. They may have cut and run after I found Capulet’s body; but they may be hanging around for one last shot at the goodies, after I go back to Scotland.’

  ‘But where could they hide? L’Escala in the winter is a small place, in terms of people at least.’

  ‘Exactly. There are thousands of empty properties here; they could have broken into any one of them, and be using it as a hide-out.’

  The captain shook his head. ‘That could be risky. They would need to know for sure that the owner didn’t employ a caretaker.’

  He had a point there. And then a light flashed on and off, off and on, in my head, directing me to the obvious hiding place for John Gash. ‘Shirley’s old house,’ I exclaimed. ‘What’s the betting that it’s empty right now? She sold it to an Aussie; it’s their summer and they’re playing a test match at the moment.’

  ‘I know where it is,’ he said. ‘But it has an alarm system. Again, too risky.’

  ‘Don’t you believe it, mate. There’s a summerhouse there, with everything they’d need in a hide-out. And last time I saw it, it wasn’t alarmed.’

  ‘It’s worth a look. I’ll go up there now. Thank you, Oz. Vero, you can go home now.’

  ‘Hold on a minute,’ I told him. ‘I’m coming too.’

  ‘You can’t,’ he exclaimed, as he picked up Capulet’s list, folded it and put it in his pocket. ‘This is a police matter. I’ll go alone; if I have to break into the property and there’s no one there, I don’t want any of my men to see.’

  I looked at him even harder than his wife had. ‘It is also a personal matter, Ramon. This lad could have killed my wee pal Susie. He probably took
a shot at my car when I had my nephews in it. I want at least one good pop at him before you cart him off to the nick.

  ‘On top of that, he’s killed a couple of people so far. No way will I let you go up there on your own.’

  He gave in more easily than I’d expected. I guessed that my last point had hit the mark.

  I realised that Veronique was staring at us, from one to the other. ‘You have your gun, Ramon?’ she asked. He flicked aside his jacket to show her a revolver in a hip holster. It looked like a Colt 38. I’d used one as a prop in my first movie. I hoped that Ramon’s wasn’t loaded with blanks.

  ‘Be careful, still,’ she said; but she was looking at me when she spoke.

  She left as we did, driving off in her Ford Ka, and we climbed into the policeman’s Seat Cordoba.

  Shirley’s old house was on the other side of town, in a place called Puig Sec by the locals, and Millionaires’ Row by the ex-pats. It took us ten minutes to get there. I knew the layout better than Fortunato; he would have parked at the main entrance, but I directed him round to a street at the back. The night was clear and moonlit; I looked at the silhouette of the villa and realised that the Aussie had knocked it around a bit. A structure not unlike the lookout tower of a prison had been added to the upper floor.

  I tried the back gate; it was unlocked. We slipped inside, relieved that the hinges didn’t squeak. A silver Ford Cougar sat on a paved area inside; I recognised it. It had British plates, and the last time I’d seen it, it had been parked in Shirley’s drive.

  I nodded to Fortunato and led him down the sloping path, towards the garden. All the windows of the summerhouse look out on to the villa’s big swimming pool, so I knew there was no chance of us being seen; not at that point, anyway.

  The summerhouse was actually meant by the architect to be a glorified barbecue, but somewhere along the way a couple of bedrooms were added and it was turned into a guest bungalow. But the main living area was open to the elements, enclosed by two big wooden doors. As we drew close, I could see that at least one of them was open. A little light spilled out, although it was almost overwhelmed by the moonlight reflected by the pool.

  I held up a hand. The captain took the signal and stopped beside me. We stood stock-still and listened. We couldn’t make out the words, but we heard voices, one male, one female; the fragments of conversation which did drift out to us were in English.

  Fortunato drew his gun and pointed; I followed him as he stepped round the door.

  John Gash and Lucille Capulet were sitting on plastic seats on either side of a black butane gas heater. They gasped in harmony as they saw us, then John jumped to his feet. He was close enough so I hit him, a lot harder than I had hit Steve Miller, bang on the temple, right on the spot you should aim for if you really want to lay someone as broad as they’re long.

  He dropped like a stone, spark out for at least as long as it would have taken a referee to count to ten, even in a wrestling ring. Liam would have been proud of that one, I thought.

  Lucille didn’t say a word; she just gave us a cold killer stare, and I knew right then who had shot Sayeed and put a cleaver through her brother’s head.

  John started to come round, but his eyes were still glazed as the policeman waved him to his feet with the Colt. He struggled upright on shaky legs.

  ‘Go on,’ Fortunato barked, pointing to an open door which led to one of the bedrooms. ‘In there.’

  They did as they were ordered, the two of us following, Ramon closing the door behind us all. The room had a double bed and a small dressing table. . on which lay eight long keys.

  ‘You know what those are, Oz, don’t you?’ he said.

  I smiled, and nodded. And then he shot them, both of them; Lucille first, John second. No messing, right in the head. Bang! Bang! One shot each, no more needed. I’d been wrong. He did have the cojones to pull the trigger, after all.

  The sound in that small room almost deafened me, but the nearest neighbours were a long way off. I looked down at the two of them, stunned. Lucille was still, with her right eye gone. John had a hole in the middle of his forehead; he twitched for a second or two, then stopped.

  ‘What the f-’ I gasped at last. ‘That was a bit peremptory, wasn’t it? I thought you guys didn’t do that any more.’

  ‘They don’t,’ he said, cheerfully. ‘I do. .’ He picked up Lucille’s eight keys and put them in his pocket with their twins. ‘. . when the stakes are high enough.’ Then he pointed the gun at me. I thought that I was about to keep my date with Jan, right then, but he nodded towards the door.

  ‘Go on,’ he grunted. ‘Back the way we came.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘You’re going to have an accident. You’re going to fall off a cliff, into the sea. No one’s going to report you missing for a few days; by that time the fish may have finished with you.’

  ‘And what about them?’ Pointless question, since the answer was so obvious.

  ‘Killed resisting arrest. I have another gun that I’ll plant on them, unless they have one already. After they give me my medal, I’ll empty Capulet’s boxes, one by one.’

  ‘Very good. But there is someone who’ll report me missing.’

  He frowned at me, and then it dawned on him. ‘Ahh, my wife. I thought so. Fair enough, it doesn’t matter now.

  ‘She might report your disappearance, Oz, but she’ll report it to me. I’ll tell her that you opted out at the last minute and ran off into the night like a chicken.’

  ‘She won’t believe you.’

  ‘Then I’ll kill her too; probably stage it as a robbery gone bad. After that, I’ll have Prim. There’s a fine last thought for you.’ He gestured with the gun again. ‘Go on. Out to the car.’

  I did as he told me. ‘This is definitely the last time I will ever trust a policeman,’ I murmured, seeing Mike Dylan grin in the dark.

  When we got to the Cordoba, Ramon tossed me its keys. ‘You drive. I’ll tell you where.’

  It wasn’t far. We drove over the hill and down towards Montgo, then took a side road which was signposted ‘L’Estartit’. I knew where we were headed.

  The track was tarmaced at first, but when we crossed the L’Escala town limit the tarmac ran out and became rough and rutted … they must be tight buggers in L’Estartit.

  ‘Turn left,’ Ramon grunted as we came to a gap in the hedge alongside. I did as I was told, driving through woodland until we came to a clearing. ‘Stop.’

  I could see the cliff path in the headlights; I had walked it, a couple of years before. I knew how far down it was to the rocks and the water. I knew also that once I got out of that car I was dead.

  Happily, Ramon had made two big mistakes; one, he had underestimated me, and two, he hadn’t made me wear the seatbelt.

  When you’re holding a gun on someone, you don’t expect him to throw an elbow into your throat. But equally, it’s bloody difficult to do it accurately in the dark. That’s where luck came into it.

  My forearm whacked up under his chin, then my hand chopped down on to his wrist, numbing it and knocking the Colt to the floor of the Seat. I reached across, opened the door and shoved him out of the car, scrambling across after him, leaving the weapon where it was.

  He rolled away from me, choking and coughing as he scrambled to his feet. ‘Right pal,’ I yelled at him cheerfully, ‘what was that you were saying about Prim?

  ‘You guessed it right back there. While you were having my wife, I was having yours and just like with the two of you, it was her idea. You’re a fucking loser, Ramon. You didn’t need to kill me. For all you knew, you just needed to split Capulet’s dough with me; there’s well enough for two.’

  He held his hands out before him. ‘Okay! Okay! Okay!’ he squealed. ‘I’ll do that now.’

  ‘Too late. Anyway, I’d have shopped you: I’m many things but I’m not a thief.’

  A gleam came into his eye. ‘I’ll say you killed them,’ he shouted. ‘That you grabbed my gun an
d did it.’

  ‘Don’t be daft. You shot them; so the traces are on your hand, not mine. And anyway, how are you going to say it?’

  He looked at me, terrified, edging back and away from me.

  And then his foot caught the root of a tree which grew no more than a couple of metres away from the crumbling face of the cliff. He fell backwards, and seemed to bounce, realising too late where he was.

  He went over, his hands scrabbling at the edge of eternity. I threw my left arm around the tree-trunk, bracing myself, and grabbed him by the right wrist, at the very last second. I was strong from all that lifting; I took his weight easily.

  He hung there, looking up at me, begging with his eyes. ‘Oz,’ he croaked.

  ‘Sure, Ramon, but just one thing first. The girl, Gabrielle. What did you really do with her? Vero thinks you took her to the airport and put her on a plane, but I know different.

  ‘Did you kill her, or did you sell her?’

  ‘I sold her,’ he screamed. ‘To Madame Midnight’s, a club near Girona.’

  ‘That’s fine,’ I said. ‘I’ll get her out of there before she’s hurt too badly.’

  ‘Okay,’ he called out, mishearing me. ‘I’ll do that; now pull me up.’

  I looked down at him, and thought about what my dad had said about forgiving and forgetting, and decided that I couldn’t come close to doing either. I thought about my ghostly Jan’s words, ‘Unless they deserve it’.

  If she’d meant anyone, she’d meant him.

  So I let him go. I started to haul him up, so that just for a second, I could see the light of relief in his eyes, then I simply let him go. What the hell? Vero was going to drop him anyway. I just saved her the trouble, that’s all.

  He screamed for half the way down. Then, as I watched him in the moonlight, he hit a rocky outcrop, and I heard the crack of his breaking neck even above the sound of the sea. I’m certain he was dead before he hit the bottom.