Page 57 of Hang on St. Christopher

“Call him now!”

Archie could see the look in my eyes.

“He won’t be happy?—”

“I’m not happy, and you should be more worried about that, trust me. Call him now.”

“All right, let me find my book.”

He rummaged through his address book and called Charlie. Archie’s psychic abilities proved good, and Charlie boy was not well pleased to get the call at this time of night. But when Archie told him it was an urgent police matter, he got slightly more cooperative. Clearly, Charlie, like everyone on planet Earth, had something to hide from the peelers.

I took the phone. “Mr. Bannion, this is Inspector Sean Duffy of Carrick CID. Mr. Simmons has explained the situation to you. I have to tell you that time is of the essence in this particular case. I need to know the name of the person who bought those paintings at the 1987 Enniscorrey auction as soon as is humanly possible.”

“But, Inspector, my ledgers are all locked up downstairs.”

“Then you’ll have to go downstairs, please.”

Five excruciating minutes while Bannion went downstairs and started rummaging through his books. He finally found the listing for the Enniscorrey auction and the sale of the Picassos.

“I found the auction,” he said.

“Who bought the Picasso?”

“Two thousand Irish pounds each. Four thousand for the pair. The buyer, a Mr. Alan Locke.”

“Address?”

“We don’t have an address.”

“How can you bid at an auction without an address?”

“At a country auction, all you need is the money and some form of identification.”

“What was the ID?”

“It was probably the usual.”

“And what’s that?”

“A driving license.”

“Do you happen to remember what Mr. Locke looked like?”

“No, not at all!” He laughed. “This was over five years ago.”

“What else does it say in your ledger?”

“That’s it, I’m afraid. Mr. Alan Locke. He’s your buyer.”

“Thank you, you’ve been very helpful.”

I hung up and called Crabbie at the station.

“Carrick CID.”

“Crabbie, it’s me. I have a name for you. Alan Locke could be our John Doe. Could be another alias, but it might not be. Do me a favor and put the name through all the usual databases. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

I thanked Archie and ran out to the Beemer.

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