‘How do you know?’ Mann asked.

  ‘I know because I was here, Lottie. I came with Alex to check it out. She’ll vouch for the state of it.’ He turned back to Roza. ‘When I saw it just now, I assumed that the pool maintenance guy had been in since then. Comissari, I recommend that we all get out of here; then you get your top forensic team here . . . unless this is it . . . and go through this place. If they find a scrap of human DNA other than ours, I’ll be amazed. I’m sure this place has had the cleaners in . . . and I’m not talking about people with squeezy mops and buckets, I’m talking about real cleaners, specialists, people who don’t miss a thing.’

  Roza stared at him. ‘But why would anyone do that?’

  ‘They’d do it,’ he said slowly, ‘because this was a crime scene.’

  Forty-Nine

  Sauce Haddock frowned. ‘He said that?’

  ‘Yup,’ Lottie Mann confirmed, nodding in the direction of her phone camera.

  ‘How did Comissari Roza react?’

  ‘She was as taken aback as I was. But then he went on; he said that the owner of the house was known to have a false identity, therefore you could argue that it was a crime scene. Only he didn’t say that. He said “ergo”. I don’t know whether it’s Spanish or Catalan, but I guess that’s what it means.’

  ‘I remember the Gaffer telling me he did Latin at high school. Some of it must have stuck. Where is he now?’

  ‘He’s gone back to Girona, to his office. I’m still at the house with Lita. She’s taking me back there when we’re done here. I don’t need translation when I’m with her; her English is probably better than mine.’

  ‘To where? Where are you staying’?

  ‘At the Gaffer’s Girona place for now. He’s taken my case back there. Christ alone knows when we’ll be done here, though,’ she added. ‘They’re doing what he suggested, crawling all over the place looking for DNA traces.’

  ‘Have they finished the search for documents?’ he asked. ‘Have they found anything that might show us Gilbert Land?’

  ‘Yes to the first and no to the second. The house has been emptied, Sauce. There’s nothing here. No personal papers, nothing in the fridge or freezer, no cutlery or plates or glasses, no table linen, no towels. Even the fucking toilet rolls are gone. The Gaffer’s right; this place has been professionally sterilised. I can guarantee you right now, the forensic team won’t find a single human trace in there. The DNA profiles that Dr Bramley sent them? They’re useless because there won’t be anything to compare them with.’

  ‘What about Land’s car? The Gaffer’s colleague told me he had a Nissan off-roader.’

  ‘That’s gone too. The garage was empty when it was opened. Nothing, not even a set of spanners.’

  ‘Did it have keypad entry like in East Lothian?’

  ‘Yes,’ Mann confirmed. ‘Same code.’

  Haddock’s eyes narrowed. ‘Were there any signs of forced entry? Either to the house or the garage.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Is your Mossos friend Lita wondering how the cleaners got in? Has she got round to that yet?’

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘Then she should. Either they were able to override the code, or they knew it. If they did, how? It was set up by Lloyd, the architect. He told me, but I don’t imagine that he shared it with too many other people. So, how did they know it?’

  ‘Maybe somebody should ask Mr Lloyd,’ Mann suggested.

  ‘That’s the first call I’m going to make once we’re finished here,’ the superintendent told her. ‘The second will be to the installers, as soon as Lloyd tells me who they were. Are you close enough to the house to show me the keypad?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Hold on.’ She walked the short distance from the poolside to the garage entrance, turned her camera and displayed the entrance system.

  ‘It’s the same,’ he declared. ‘Both systems were installed by the same Swiss firm, and yet as far as I know . . . although I’ll have to check it . . . Lloyd wasn’t involved with the Spanish property at all. Ayre just told him who to use on his. It makes me wonder . . . and again I’ll check . . . whether whoever settled those invoices got the two accounts mixed up and there’s a payment from Ayre’s Jersey account going in the wrong direction.’

  ‘Is that relevant?’ Mann asked.

  ‘We won’t know until we find out, one way or the other. I’ll contact the Jersey banker. Meanwhile, ask your colleague Lita if she can check who filed any necessary building applications in Spain. If there was an architect involved, maybe they can tell us what we need to know about the missing Senor Gilbert Land.’

  Fifty

  ‘This Ms Geraldine Black,’ the Border Control official said. ‘What’s her nationality?’

  ‘I think she’s American,’ Jackie Wright told her. ‘I want sight of her passport, if that’s possible.’

  ‘I’m sorry, but there’s no guarantee that she had her passport stamped. With a biometric passport US citizens can use the e-gates, as long as they aren’t coming for business purposes. If they are, she’d need to have it stamped, and a record would be kept.’

  ‘Would she have needed a visa?’

  ‘No,’ she smiled wryly. ‘We’re generous in that respect.’

  ‘That means she could come and go and nobody need know about it.’

  ‘Effectively, yes.’

  ‘She wouldn’t have needed a landing card?’ Wright wondered.

  ‘No, those were scrapped a few years ago. I’m sorry, Sergeant. If you were hoping I’d be able to pin this person down for you, that’s not going to happen. You’ll have to go to the airlines, and that’s not a job you’ll be able to do on your own. And that assumes,’ she added, ‘that Ms Black arrived by air. People arrive in the United Kingdom by land as well, through the Channel Tunnel or Northern Ireland. And by sea,’ she added, ‘officially or otherwise.’

  The sergeant thanked her, sighing as she ended the call. She rose from her desk and walked across the squad room to Tarvil Singh’s work station. He looked up as she approached. ‘How are we for available people power on the Ayre investigation?’ she asked.

  ‘That depends on the importance of the job we’re talking about,’ he replied cautiously.

  ‘A name’s come up: Geraldine Black. The owner of the Open Arms in Dirleton identified her from the image that Bob Skinner got from his security firm. We believe she’s the owner of that bikini bottom, the one we found in the Ayre house and traced to Spain. I need to check aircraft manifests for flights into Edinburgh before the twenty-second of June.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because we need to find her,’ she snapped, impatiently. ‘Tarvil, we’re short of living witnesses and she’s one.’ She took a breath, gathering herself. ‘Plus, there might be another player. When she was in the Open Arms, she wasn’t alone, she had a companion, and it definitely wasn’t Gavin Ayre.’

  Singh nodded. ‘I’ll give you two DCs in addition to Benjamin, for two days. If you haven’t found her by then, you never will.’

  Fifty-One

  Nicola Tremacoldi looked up as his unexpected visitors entered his studio. Each was in uniform: one he recognised as that of the Mossos d’Esquadra; the other was unknown to him. ‘Señoras, esto es una sorpresa. ¿Le puedo ayudar en algo?’

  ‘¿Hablas inglés?’ the Mossos officer asked. ‘Sería más fácil para mi colega.’

  ‘I have a little English,’ he said. ‘Not very good, but I can try. I am Italian,’ he volunteered, as if that was an explanation.

  ‘Mr Tremacoldi,’ the other, larger, woman began, ‘we believe that you were the architect on a project near a town called Riudaura.’

  He nodded, scratching his light beard. ‘Si. Masia Coll. Yes, I am. I mean, yes I was. The project it is now finished. It was a real, how you say, challenge, to take a big important building that is almost two hundred years old and make it something for the new age, to blend together the old and the new. It was really a ruin, un disastro, we say in Italian. The client paid a lot of money, too much money, but now they have una propiedad that is worth millions.’ He smiled. ‘Is the first I ever work where there is a helipuerto in the especificación. I don’t know if it will be used, but they want and the terreno allowed, so they have it.’

  ‘Who supplied the entry system?’

  ‘Yo, lo hice. I did it. The client wanted alta seguridad, top security. I know a compañía in Switzerland so I use them.’ Tremacoldi grinned again. ‘They like me now. The owner tell me they have un otro pedido de Escocia, Scotland, for the same system. Someone see it and they want exactly the same.’

  ‘The client, Senor Tremacoldi,’ the Catalan officer said. ‘Gilbert Land. Es importante que le hablemos. We need to speak to him. Can you tell us where we can find him?’

  The architect shook his shaven head, regretfully. ‘No, I cannot. I have never speak to him. Nunca lo he conocido. Always when I meet, I meet with the lady. The lady American. Su nombre es Black, Geraldine Black. But I know he has been here. Hace un mes, a month ago, she call me to make sure that the helipuerto is safe and can be used. She say me it was important, muy importante, because Senor Land was coming.’

  The other woman nodded. She moved towards the area of the studio in which photographs and models of Tremacoldi’s work were displayed. ‘There’s nothing here about Riudaura,’ she observed.

  He sighed. ‘That is true. Me temo que nunca habrá. I fear there never will. Always, I ask the client permission to display his property. Always they say “Si Nicola.” This time no. This time they say they need to preservar la privacidad, to keep it private. Is very shame, for it is work I have much pride in.’

  He looked up as the Catalan woman raised a hand. ‘The entry code for the property. El código. Do you know it?’

  ‘Of course. Naturalmente. If I go there I need it.’

  ‘Is it noted anywhere? Written? ¿Escrito?’

  Tremacoldi reached out and touched his iMac computer. ‘Esta aquí,’ he said, ‘and on my phone.’

  ‘Okay, thank you. You have been a great help. Usted has sido de gran ayuda. I will call if we need to speak again.’ She nodded to her companion and they left.

  ‘They hacked his computer, didn’t they?’ Mann said, outside. ‘To get that code. Whoever cleaned the place.’

  ‘That would be a strong possibility,’ Roza agreed. ‘We need to focus on that helipad. A month ago, Geraldine Black, whoever she might be, was expecting a visit from Senor Land. A private helicopter transfer will have been logged. There will be a record and we will find it.’

  ‘Let’s do that,’ the Scot agreed. ‘Also, the Gaffer said something about an old neighbour showing up the first time he was there and being curious. The world is full of nosey old bastards, but they can be useful. Should we maybe have a word with him?’

  Her colleague smiled. ‘Indeed we should. I like working with you, Charlotte. I haven’t been out of the office as much in years.’

  Fifty-Two

  ‘I have some news for you,’ Sarah Grace Skinner said to her husband. ‘Are you planning to come home in the near future so that I can share it? Or has InterMedia become your new family?’

  ‘I’ll be home soon, I promise,’ Bob replied. ‘Things have been happening here, that’s all.’

  She stared at her tablet’s camera, unsmiling. ‘Including your mystery trip to the mountains?’

  ‘That’s part of it. How did you know about that?’ He paused. ‘Sorry, damn silly question. You’ve been talking to Alex.’

  ‘More like she’s been talking to me. She called me after you got back.’

  ‘I told her not to tell anyone about it,’ he growled. ‘We will have serious words, she and I.’

  ‘No, you won’t,’ Sarah told him dismissively. ‘You haven’t had serious words with your daughter since you caught her nicking a Cornetto from the freezer when she was six. You made her cry, and then said you were sorry and you’d never do it again. She didn’t say that; she kept on pinching them, but she was careful never to get caught again.’

  He laughed, lightening the mood behind them. ‘That’s what she thought. She had a way of getting them out of the wrapper without tearing it. She’d put the top on and put it back in the box, empty, thinking that I’d never find out since I never liked the things. What did she tell you about our trip?’ he asked quietly.

  ‘That you took her up past Olot, to the area with the spectacular geology that you and I love. You found a big old house that had been restored, at Christ knows what cost. You went to the door and opened it, somehow. Then you shut it again, fast, and more or less ran back to the car. You did some poking around, then you made a phone call and hauled ass out of there.’

  ‘Missing the cops by a matter of minutes? Did she add that part too?’

  ‘No, she left that out. She did say she’d never seen you so badly shaken before, not ever, although you and she have had some shared experiences that would shake most normal people. Bob, what the hell are you doing over there? Is it dangerous?’

  She saw him shake his head. ‘Not any more, if it ever was. Don’t press me, sweetheart. I’ll tell you the whole story when I can but not like this; when I’m with you.’

  ‘Then get with me!’ she demanded. ‘Get your ass back here.’

  ‘When I can,’ he promised. ‘Did Alex tell you about Lottie Mann?’

  ‘Yeah, some nonsense about her being flown in and you volunteering to act as her interpreter. You brought her to L’Escala for dinner and she stayed over, then the two of you went back up to that house to meet the Mossos.’

  ‘That’s true, that’s what happened.’

  ‘Where is Lottie now?’

  ‘Investigating with a Mossos colleague, who speaks good English so I’m not needed.’

  ‘Investigating what? Bob, what did you see?’

  He frowned; in his eyes, she thought she read something she had never seen there before. Anxiety.

  ‘Something gross,’ he told her quietly. ‘Something so bad I literally ran from it. I think I’m past my best-before date, Sarah. And yet when that house was opened today, there was nothing there. Now I’m actually asking myself, did I imagine it all? Did I open that door expecting the worst and, maybe for the few seconds it lasted, did I make myself see it?’

  ‘Then you should come home,’ she repeated. ‘Withdraw yourself completely from this business, leave it to the police. Bob, my love, post-traumatic stress disorder can last for a long time, a lifetime in some people, and we both know that you are no stranger to it.’

  ‘I will,’ he agreed. ‘Once a few things are taken care of.’

  ‘What things?’

  ‘Questions that are still to be answered. About the investigation and maybe about me. If you’re right, love, and I have had a blast of PTSD, you above all others must know that I’ll refuse to let it beat me, or make me run away from anything.’ He paused. ‘You said you had news for me,’ he continued. ‘Out with it. What is it?’

  ‘I’ve had an offer,’ she replied. ‘A visiting chair in forensic pathology.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘The University of Barcelona.’

  He said nothing, only smiled, but she reacted.

  ‘You knew, didn’t you?’ she exclaimed. ‘You bloody knew!’

  ‘Well,’ he said cautiously, ‘I was at this reception a couple of weeks ago and I was introduced to this university guy, a really intense bloke. He was prattling on about the need to improve the city’s academic reputation, to have Barcelona thought of as something more than a tourist destination. He said that part of the strategy was to increase the number of visiting professors, and I told him, “You could start with my wife.” He thought I was joking at first until I told him who you were. He said no more about it at the time, but I guess he took me seriously.’

  Her expression was thunderous. He winced in the face of her sudden anger. ‘What?’

  ‘Everything has to go through you, doesn’t it!’ she snapped. ‘Even my damned career. Well, I’ll tell you what Senor Cazador can do, he can stick his visiting chair where it’ll only ever be found at a post-mortem. And you! You’d better get your ass back here before I change the fucking locks!’

  Fifty-Three

  ‘You could delegate this, you know, Lita,’ Lottie Mann pointed out. ‘You’re what rank? In my force you’re the equivalent of at least an assistant chief constable, maybe even a deputy. We don’t find those people out on the street. No, they stay in their offices and push paper, or send out emails to interrupt the troops on the ground.’

  ‘So do I normally,’ Comissari Roza agreed. ‘To be honest, I don’t have faith in the line manager who would normally be involved with you in this investigation, so I decided to side-line him. Also, I have the feeling that your friend Sir Robert is keeping an eye on everything we do, so I need to keep an eye on him in return since he clearly has influence with our political master.’

  ‘The Gaffer isn’t like that,’ Mann insisted. ‘Fact is, he used to be famous for hating politicians. Okay, he was married to one for a while, but that didn’t last.’

  ‘That may have been true of the man you knew as a police chief,’ Roza countered, ‘but the version we have here is very politically aware. In that way he’s much more effective than Xavi Aislado, when he was chairman of InterMedia. Xavi was aloof, unreachable. Sir Robert is different. Since he took over, he has learned a great deal and it shows in the editorial profile of the group. He knows how the political balance is in Catalunya, and the group newspapers and radio stations reflect that. The same is true in the rest of Spain. InterMedia has much more influence in Madrid than it ever had. It’s perverse but true; the government needs the support of the Catalans to stay in power. Therefore it needs the support of our media, of whom the most powerful are the InterMedia titles, printed, broadcast and online. Sir Robert, he knows this and he is using it. Since he became chairman, InterMedia have been granted eight new broadcast licences by the government, and its social media profile has gone from regional to national. Charlotte,’ she said, ‘I met him not long after he became chairman. Then he spoke what he called restaurant Spanish, even though he had a home here for twenty-five years before that. Now he’s fluent and he speaks acceptable Catalan. Hector Sureda, the chief executive, runs the business on the ground and he is very good, the best. But the power, that is Sir Robert. I have a couple of friends who work for InterMedia. They tell me that he used to spend a couple of days a week here. Now, they say, he is more or less full time.’