Costa Del Murder by David W Robinson

Author:David W Robinson [Robinson, David W]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Crooked Cat Books
Published: 2013-12-05T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

Stepping out of the bottom gate onto the promenade, Joe took a drag and blew smoke out into the fresh, morning air. He glanced worriedly over his shoulder and up at the seventh floor, worried for a moment that one or both of his companions may have spotted the smoke.

“Sod it,” he muttered. “Whose life is it, anyway?”

He recalled Rita telling him that Holgate took coffee at Chico’s every day around ten in the morning. Walking along the seafront, ignoring the Moroccan and Tunisian traders hawking their fake goods, savouring the ozone carried on a light breeze, he found the colonel right where Rita had said he would be.

Greeting Holgate with a smile, Joe said, “I’ve been looking for you. Mind if I join you?”

Holgate lowered his newspaper and smiled wanly. “Not at all, old man. Glad of the company.” He raised a hand and snapped his fingers at the waiter. “Café con leche. Dos. Pronto.”

Joe frowned and Holgate narrowed dismissive eyes on him.

“You don’t approve?”

“Damn right, I don’t,” Joe replied. “I run a trucker’s café in West Yorkshire—”

“So you said.” There was no mistaking the snobbish disdain in the older man’s interruption.

“I’m told I’m grumpy, snappy and rude with my customers. Maybe, maybe not. I don’t have time to stop and worry about it. And they give me some stick back, but if anyone spoke to me or my staff the way you just spoke to the waiter, I’d throw them out.”

“Have to do it, Murray. Your typical Spaniard is lazy and surly. They need a kick up the backside, make ’em work. Show ’em who’s boss.”

Joe shook his head. “And people wonder why we Brits have such a bad reputation abroad.”

Holgate put his newspaper to one side and sneered. “Don’t tell me you’re one of these modern, politically correct types. Let me tell you something, Murray, it’s exactly that kind of attitude that lost us the empire, and our place in the world.”

“Funny,” Joe replied as the waiter approached with their coffee, “because I’d say it was your attitude that brought about the British decline. Overwhelming arrogance with no substance.”

The waiter delivered the coffee. Joe nodded. “Gracias.”

“No problem, señor.” The waiter placed the bill at Holgate’s elbow and without looking at the colonel, wandered off.

“See,” Joe said. “One kick up the arse from you, and you have open warfare, one word of thanks from me and we have what the French call entente cordiale.”

“You’ve made your point, Murray. Don’t expect me to agree.”

“I don’t. But tell me, Holgate, does your narrow-minded vision of this world include the internet? Or did Dimmock have it right when he said you didn’t understand it?”

The colonel harrumphed. “Quite what it has to do with Dimmock, I don’t know but he’s right. I know nothing about it. Never needed it in my day.” He picked up his newspaper and dropped it again. “This was enough. This and a telephone for field communications.”

“Shame,” Joe said. “I’m in my fifties and I make an effort to keep up with technology.

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