Skinner's trail

But that is it. Enough, the sun is calling. So why don't we attend to Jazz's needs, and then we can all go out for lunch. Between you and me, my love, there's quite a lot I'd do for a pizza!'

Thirty-four

It looked more like a business meeting over coffee by the beach, in true Costa style, than the culmination of a criminal investigation.

The three men sat around a table on the pavement outside La Caravel, Skinner with a cortado — a Spanish version of espresso with a little milk — Pujol and Ainscow with cafe con leche. Just across the way, the pocket- sized town beach was thronged with its usual late-afternoon mixture of mothers, infants and shoppers gathered together in a summer ritual of sunbathing and gossip. Some, from the bags which they carried, had come straight from the Maxor supermarket, less than two hundred metres away in one of the old town's narrow streets.

Pujol sampled his coffee, replaced the small white cup in its saucer, and picked up his briefcase. He opened it and withdrew a neatly typed document, which he placed in the centre of the table.

He looked at Skinner then at Ainscow. Finally, he said, That is a report prepared by my agent, after going through the accounts of InterCosta with Senor Ainscow's accountant. It is of course in Spanish, and I have not had the opportunity to have it translated. However I will summarise it for you. It seems that, for some time, amounts of money have been disappearing

from the company account. They have been between three hundred thousand and two million pesetas. Each, shall we say, withdrawal has related to a sales transaction. It has not come from the property management side. That has been going on for years. It will take much time to identify every one of the thefts, but my hombre and yours, Senor Ainscow, they are agreed that the total missing could be as much as two hundred million pesetas.'

'A million sterling!' said Skinner in surprise. Ainscow said nothing, but looked grim.

'Si. Over a number of years, but it is still a lot of money.' `So how was it done?'

`Very simply. Senor Ainscow has told you of the way in which money was moved from Scotland to Espana. I know that you may think it irresponsible, Bob, but in fact it is quite a common practice in our property business. The banks have only themselves to blame. It is very expensive to move money from country to country by official transfer. Because of this, many people use blank cheques made out for cash, drawn on accounts in foreign countries. It is as effective as official transfer, it is often quicker, and it is not expensive.

What has happened with InterCosta is that some of those cheques have been diverted. Senor Ainscow's records in Scotland show that they have been completed and honoured, but they have not all been paid into the InterCosta account in Banca Catalana. Some have been cashed somewhere else, with money-changers. Many of them here will accept ordinary cheques for a higher commission.

`It is so simple. The theft was not from the client. It was from the company itself, from the profits of InterCosta.'

`Yes,' said Skinner, 'I understand. I assume that, every time, the sum stolen was always within the level of commission due on that sale.'

`Exactamente! The sellers of the properties concerned were always paid in full. The buyers, they pay their money, they get their apartment, everybody is happy. The only person who does not get his money is Senor Ainscow. It seems that Alberni's great mistake was to forget, until it was too late, that Senor Pitkeathly's apartment was to be sold without commission being charged.'

Skinner looked across the table at Pujol. 'The InterCosta records confirm Alberni's guilt?'

`Bob, the cheques are cashed in Espana. The theft is of the profits from the company. Senor Ainscow here is entitled to seventy-five per cent of these profits. Why would he steal from himself?'

Skinner nodded in acceptance of the point. 'Yes, why indeed.' He looked at the other man. 'Seems like you've been stuffed all right, Mr Ainscow. What are you going to do about it all, Arturo?'

The Cormandante shrugged his shoulders. `God, he knows. We have asked all the banks. Alberni has very little cash in his personal account. There is no trace of any other among his papers. He has simply made it disappear. There are many things he could have done here. For example, he could have set up dummy companies, with other people as administrators, and used them to buy property. That would be untraceable. Or he could have buried it in his garden. Or he could have given it all to the casinos. Many Spanish people, even more so if they are Catalan, are big gamblers.'

`What action will you take?'

`I have been giving that much thought, and I have spoken to Senor Ainscow about it. What I intend to do is. . nothing. There will be no hearing. What would that achieve? Gloria Alberni knew nothing of this: of that we are both certain. She will have to live in L'Escala. It will be kinder if it is without disgrace. There is another reason too. What I have done so far is more or less unofficial. If I do any more, it will mean a full-scale investigation, by other people, of the company's business. If that happened, then our Ministerio de Hacienda — our taxman, you would say — might decide to look also at some of the declarations which have been made to the Notary of the prices paid for properties on which the tax is calculated. You know, Bob, that often the price which is declared is not the real price. It is much less. If our tax authorities took an interest, it could be catastrophic for many clients of InterCosta. And maybe not only InterCosta, too. They might then decide to investigate other companies in L'Escala.

`If that were to happen, how would it be for relations between the town and the Guardia Civil? My people live here. I live in Albons, not far away. We would be outcasts.. leprosos! It is unthinkable. So if you agree, and Senor Ainscow agrees, I will do no more. I will bury this business with Santiago Alberni.'

Skinner shrugged his shoulders. 'It's your investigation, Arturo, I've got no problem with that outcome. Pitkeathly might, but then he's got to live here too.'

Ainscow broke in. 'I'll take care of Pitkeathly, Mr Skinner, don't you worry. That twenty-five grand in Santi's safe belongs to the company, clearly. I'll have that back, and I'll pay the Pitkeathly’s this missing half million pesetas from it.'

`That's fair,' said Skinner. 'What will you do about the business?'

Now that I see how profitable it could be, I'll probably look for new people out here. Two probably: one Spanish, one British. I'll let them buy in for twenty per cent each, in profits. That way they'll be watching each other. And from now on my accountant will be looking out for me.' For the first time that afternoon, Ainscow smiled. 'How about it, Mr Skinner, fancy staying here as a partner in InterCosta?'

Skinner, leaning back in his chair and finishing his cortado, smiled too. 'Bugger off!'

Thirty-five

‘Oh, Bob. Poor Gloria, there are so few people.'

`That's the way it is when they bury a suicide. Folk are embarrassed, they disapprove, they don't want to be involved. There's no church service either, no requiem mass for the sinner. I'm glad the priest's turned out, though. Sometimes they refuse.'

Sarah spotted a familiar face wearing a look of unfamiliar grimness. 'What's Carlos doing here?'

The UBET asked him to represent them. You know, the local business organisation. Santi was a member. Kath said he'd be here when she arrived to baby-sit.'

They were about to join their friend when the cortege — the hearse and a single car — swung into the little walled cemetery on the road from L'Escala to Villadamat. Gloria's father was in the front seat of the black Mercedes. When the car came to a stop not far from the new grave, he jumped out first, opening the rear door and holding out his hand to assist his daughter as she emerged. Two other women, both middle-aged, rose with dignity