Authors: Ekaterine Nikas
Suddenly
I started, my attention caught and fixed by the date of this last stamp.
The green ink was blurred a little, but
the date stood out clearly, the extremely legible fifteen impossible to
mistake.
But
the police had checked . . .
I
searched through the passport again more closely.
Two pages further along there was another green entry stamp
-- this time from Heathrow Airport and dated March 16.
Two
entry stamps dated a single day apart.
Two arrivals in England, but the police only aware of the second one,
the safe one, the one occurring the day after William Redfield's death.
"How
dare you touch his things!" cried an angry voice behind me.
I
whirled around to find Helen standing in the doorway of the bathroom.
I wondered for a moment why I hadn't
heard the door to the hall open, then realized she had entered the same way I
had -- through the bathroom from my room.
"What
are you stealing there?" she demanded.
I
looked down at the passport, forgotten in my hand.
I turned toward the desk, dropped it into the secret drawer,
and slammed the drawer shut.
"I'm not stealing anything; I was looking at something, and now
I've put it back."
I
swung around to face her.
She
glared at me.
"I will tell
Kyrios Skouras what I have seen!
I
will tell him what you have been doing!
Do not think that I will not!"
"Go
right ahead," I said, trying to sound calm.
"I'll be in California by the time you do, and I don't
think he’ll care much by then."
"I
will tell my mistress.
She will
call the police!"
I
shook my head.
"Actually, I
don't think she will, but you're welcome to tell her.
I'll tell her myself if you like, and perhaps, while I'm at
it, I'll also tell her about your meeting last week in that pretty little
church in Koussaki."
Helen's
eyes widened and her face went pale.
I
pressed my advantage.
"But
then again, perhaps I shouldn't bother her with such trivial details when she
has so much on her mind right now."
I paused, regarding her with a steady look.
"What do you think, Helen?"
She
stared at me, her expression a mixture of animosity and fear, and then slowly,
reluctantly, she muttered, "I think that you are right."
Nodding,
satisfied, I walked past her back to my room.
I closed the door behind me and made it all the way to a
chair before my knees gave out completely.
*
*
*
My
luggage and I were standing out in the drive when the sound of flying gravel
announced the arrival of a car.
I
assumed it was my taxi, but as it swooped down the driveway and slid to a stop
in front of me, I realized my mistake.
Spiro stepped out of the Lamborghini with light-footed grace and crossed
to my side.
He
gave me a long, considering look.
“This is hardly how I expected you to repay my hospitality,
Christine."
My
heart began to thump a double-time beat.
“I don’t know what you mean,” I replied nervously.
“I
think you do,” he said, his dark eyes full of reproof.
I
tensed, wondering if I could outrun him back to the house.
After all, he wouldn’t try anything in
front of Maria and Aphrodite.
Then
he gestured toward my feet with his chin.
“Once again I find you on the doorstep surrounded by baggage.
Can it be that you are planning to
leave without saying goodbye?”
I
lowered my heels and took a few calming breaths.
"I said goodbye to your sister."
"But
not to me."
"You
weren't here to say goodbye to."
He
shrugged to acknowledge that it was a valid point.
"Yes, my business proved more arduous than
expected."
His well-shaped
lips twitched at some private joke. "I was away longer than I intended.
Now, however, my work is finished and
all is well.”
His mouth curved
into a triumphant smile.
“What a
pity you cannot remain and help me celebrate my victory."
His
palpable exultation left me uneasy, but before I could reply, Demetra called
out behind me.
"Miss
Stewart, you cannot leave!”
As
I whirled around at her words, she spotted her brother.
“
Spiro!
”
she cried.
“I did not know you had
returned!”
“I
have just arrived,” he said, stepping forward to take her hands.
“And
what of your business?” she inquired anxiously.
He
slid an arm around her shoulders.
“It has been concluded successfully.”
“Has
it?” she asked, hope and wariness vying on her face.
“Yes,”
he replied, lifting his hand, and brushing his bent knuckles gently against her
cheek.
“You need fear no longer.”
She
closed her eyes for a moment, and then both brother and sister turned to look
at me.
I
said, in what I hoped was a cool and calm voice, “Mrs. Redfield, I don’t know
what you meant before, but my taxi should be arriving any minute, and when it
gets here I
am
leaving -- for the airport.”
Demetra
Redfield shook her head.
“You
cannot.”
“Why
not?” I demanded.
"Because
Ari Mavros wishes to speak with you, with me, with all of us in his office as
soon as possible."
"Lieutenant
Mavros wants to see us?” I said.
“Why?"
She
turned and her eyes sought out Spiro’s as she replied in a low, tense voice,
"It seems my stepson has disappeared."
Chapter Nineteen
The
small office was full of people.
Lieutenant
Mavros gestured for the newcomer to be seated.
Geoffrey crossed to the last empty chair and sat down, while
the officers escorting him were dismissed with a single thrust of the
Lieutenant's chin.
They scurried
from the room, no doubt relieved to escape their superior's poorly concealed
wrath.
"Good."
The word was almost a growl.
"Now that you are here, Mr. Redfield,
we can begin."
The Lieutenant
settled back in his seat and his angry blue gaze swept the semi-circle of
chairs gathered around his desk.
"Before we begin our discussion," he said, "I would like
an account of how each of you spent the night, and where you were at
approximately six-thirty this morning."
Demetra
began to protest, but was quickly silenced by her brother, who sat next to
her.
Meanwhile Robert, seated to
Spiro's left, gravely inquired, "Do I gather, Lieutenant, that you suspect
one of us of having engineered Michael's disappearance?"
"At
this point, I have no evidence to suggest such a thing, which is why we are
discussing the matter informally.
However, if I learn one of you has lied to me," his gaze swept past
each of us in turn, “then our next interview will be considerably
different.
Mr. Redfield, perhaps
you will begin?
And since I have
not yet had an opportunity to question you about yesterday's swimming mishap,
perhaps you will also tell me where you were yesterday afternoon -- shall we
say around four?"
"I
believe,” Geoffrey replied coolly, “at that time, I would have been about
30,000 feet in the air.
My flight
from Paris arrived in Rome a little before five; the connecting flight to Corfu
got in about seven."
He
paused and withdrew a small leather pocketbook from his jacket.
"Perhaps you'd care to see the
cancelled boarding passes, Lieutenant?"
Mavros
shook his head.
"That will
not be necessary."
I have
already had a report from the airport, and Alitalia confirms you were on the
passenger list for the Rome flight, or -- at least -- someone travelling under
your name and with your passport."
Geoffrey
slid whatever he'd been about to take out of his pocketbook back in and closed
it with a soft thump, a sound that echoed in my chest as I remembered once
again to breathe.
"After
learning Michael was in hospital," he resumed, "I went straight
there.
I wasn't allowed into his
room to see him, but I was assured he was well and resting comfortably.”
“After
I left the hospital --" did he pause faintly? "-- I drove to Kassiopi
to have dinner at a friend's restaurant.
Then I returned to my hotel.
I went to bed sometime after one and woke before eight, but was alone
from the time I left the restaurant until your men swept down on me in the
lobby of my hotel this morning, so I can’t really prove where I was at
six-thirty."
His
tone was faintly apologetic.
I
wanted to sock him one.
He
had lied about the flight and his return to the island and had neglected to
mention that I'd been with him at dinner.
Now I was put in the position of having to lie as well, or risk seeing
him arrested on the spot.
The
Lieutenant shrugged his shoulders.
"At the moment I find it hard to believe yesterday's attack and
today's disappearance are unrelated, so for now, your word is
sufficient."
The implication
that this state of affairs might not last was clear.
Hesitantly,
I began a similarly specious version of the evening's events, saying that I had
run into Geoffrey at the hospital, that we had walked out together and parted
outside, that I had had dinner in some small restaurant -- no, I was sorry, I
couldn't remember the name or what street it was on -- and that later I'd
caught a taxi back to
Ithaki
and gone straight to bed.
Safely
past the treacherous waters of the previous evening’s events, I continued in a
firmer voice, “I woke up early this morning, probably around six; I was
planning to catch a flight home at eleven."
The
Lieutenant bent his head slightly in acknowledgment, "I appreciate your
changing your plans to accommodate me."
"I
didn't stay to accommodate you, Lieutenant.
I just couldn't leave without knowing Michael was
okay."
That
he might
not
be okay was a thought I kept pushing away with the frantic
energy of the truly frightened.
Still my churning stomach knew the grim odds.
I bit down hard on my lip and forced myself to continue.
“After
I got dressed, I packed and then went to breakfast.
I was getting ready to leave for the airport when Mrs.
Redfield came out to tell us -- Mr. Skouras and me -- what had happened."
At
the mention of Spiro's name, Geoffrey turned and glanced my way.
I looked into his eyes, hoping to find
reassurance there from the man who had saved my life, but his expression was
stony, and he gazed at me with the detachment of a stranger.
Robert
went next, saying he'd spent the evening alone, had dined out, risen early, and
at the time in question -- six-thirty? -- had been having coffee with a Greek
colleague whose name he would be happy to provide.
“Isn’t
that rather early for such a meeting?” the Lieutenant asked.