Authors: Ekaterine Nikas
"No,
it wasn't."
"It
had to be!" I exclaimed.
Then
I remembered.
Michael leading us
to the bench, suggesting it would be a good place to rest.
Michael looking startled when I
mentioned the time.
Michael asking
to be left alone.
I said slowly,
"That was where you planned to meet him."
"Yes."
"And
the person who phoned claiming that Michael was in the hospital --"
Geoffrey
nodded grimly.
"Expected
Michael to be sitting on that bench at ten o'clock.
Alone."
Chapter Four
There
was a note from Lieutenant Mavros of the Corfu Police waiting for me when I
returned to my hotel.
Kyria Andriatsis
looked both curious and concerned as she handed it to me, but my emotion upon
receiving it was a sort of spiteful satisfaction.
You see, Geoffrey had just warned me off.
Now
I'm not a particularly reckless person.
My imagination is too vivid and my confidence in fate too tenuous to be
an enthusiastic risk-taker.
But
this situation was different.
Geoffrey had convinced me that someone had tried to kill me.
No one could expect me to walk away
from that.
No
one, that is, except Geoffrey.
"What
do you mean, I'm to stay out of it?" I demanded during our taxi ride back
to the Hotel Kerkyra.
"First,
you go out of your way to prove to me that someone tried to murder me.
Then you turn around and advise me not
to bother my little head about it."
"You
weren't the intended victim," Geoffrey said, his voice thick with
exasperation.
"You were
simply incidental -- someone in the wrong place at the wrong time."
"Why,
thank you.
That makes me feel
so
much better."
The
muscles in his cheek twitched.
"What
I'm trying to explain to you is that if you keep out of the way, you'll be
safe.
Whoever did this has no
quarrel with you --"
"And
what makes you so certain Michael was the target?
Perhaps someone is after me, and Michael was the one in the
wrong place at the wrong time."
His
eyebrows flew up in disbelief.
"I suppose you're going to tell me you're being chased by a jealous
lover?"
"It's
possible," I said airily, irritated by his tone.
"Maybe I should ask Spiro if I can hide out in that
villa of his."
As
I knew it would, the mention of Spiro sent Geoffrey's temper flaring.
"
Ithaki
belongs to
Michael," he snapped.
"And if after all I've shown you today, you could be such a fool as
to --"
"My
point is," I interrupted, "regardless of whether I was attacked on
purpose or just as an afterthought, I'm not about to ignore the fact.
I think we should go to the
police."
"I've
already been,” he said heavily.
“I
went first thing this morning, and was directed to a Lieutenant Mavros.
He listened very politely to my story,
then dismissed me, saying that while he thought I possessed an excellent
imagination, he would prefer it if, in future, I kept the exercise of it to
myself."
"In
that case, what are we going to do?" I demanded.
"
We
are not going to do anything.
You
are going to finish up your holiday and then go home and forget any of this
ever happened."
I
didn't reply.
There was nothing to
say.
I wasn't about to forget
being nearly squashed by a large piece of Byzantine rock, but arguing with him
was getting me nowhere.
If the
police weren't going to help, then I had to do some serious thinking about what
to do next.
When
we arrived at the Hotel Kerkyra, Geoffrey walked around to open my door.
"So you'll stay out of it,
Christine?" he asked as he took my arm and helped me out of the car.
His hand slid down to grip my own.
"You'll stay away from
Ithaki
and all its occupants?"
"If
you were so anxious for me to bow out and disappear, why did you drag me back
to the Old Fort in the first place?
I believed what happened was an accident.
I wasn't planning to make waves."
"I
had my reasons."
"Which
were?"
He
hesitated for a moment and then said quietly, "You seemed interested in
Spiro.
I thought you ought to know
how dangerous that interest might be."
I
stared at him.
"You think
Spiro
is the one who attacked us?"
"I
believe it’s a distinct possibility."
“I
know you don’t like the man, but attempted murder?
And of a boy in his sister’s care?
What proof do you have?”
He
shook his head grimly.
“No
proof.
Just a gut-feeling.
Which is why I have my hands full
making sure Michael remains safe.
I can’t be worrying about you as well.”
He
squeezed my hand for emphasis, but apparently the gesture was an unconscious
one.
When I made a small sound of
protest, he looked down in surprise, as if he’d forgotten that he held it.
“Did I hurt you?” he murmured, lifting
my hand to his mouth and brushing his lips apologetically across my fingers.
Mutely,
I shook my head.
He
turned my hand over and gazed at my palm.
Slowly he began to run his thumb over it in small, caressing circles
that sent ripples of pleasure tingling up my arm.
"Christine,” he said softly, withdrawing his thumb and
pressing a kiss there, “please, promise me you'll forget about all this and go
home."
"I
can't forget -- even if I wanted to."
He
drew back at that.
Without another
word he climbed into the taxi and told the driver to go.
I watched the grey Mercedes disappear
down the narrow street.
Then,
pressing my palm to my cheek, I went inside the hotel.
*
*
*
The
note from Lieutenant Mavros was brief and to the point.
He was most anxious to speak to me
about a certain unfortunate incident, and could I please come by to see him as
soon as possible?
He greatly
appreciated my assistance, and hoped that he was not inconveniencing me.
This
last made me smile.
I didn't plan
to tell the Lieutenant just how very convenient his invitation was, but I felt
a wave of relief.
The police were
going to investigate after all.
I was off the hook.
For all
my brave words to Geoffrey, I had no idea how to safely go about ferreting out
an attempted murderer, and I was quite happy to leave the job to the police.
Five
minutes into my interview with Lieutenant Mavros I realized my relief had been
premature.
I’d
arrived at the police station without mishap and had informed the gruff officer
at the front desk who I was and why I was there.
Mention of Lieutenant Mavros's name had galvanized the man
into action, and I was quickly passed from one policeman to another like a file
urgently needed yesterday.
Soon I
stood outside the Lieutenant's office, waiting as the sergeant who had escorted
me the last leg of the relay went in and announced me.
The
door to the office opened.
Lieutenant Mavros motioned me in with a bow of his head and a wave of
his hand.
He was younger than I
expected, somewhere in his mid-thirties.
His features were blunt and plain, but his blue eyes were intelligent
and his manner was both polite and intimidating.
I
sat down in a green leather chair.
The room was sparsely furnished, but didn't share the institutional
ugliness of the other rooms I'd passed through.
The floor was bare, but it was hardwood, not linoleum, and
the antique rosewood desk the Lieutenant returned to was delicately carved and
beautiful.
"Thank
you for coming, Miss Stewart.
I
apologize for the interruption to your vacation, but I felt it necessary to
speak with you in person about this unfortunate incident.
I will be grateful for any help you can
give to us in our investigation."
"I'll
be happy to help in any way I can," I assured him.
He
nodded.
"Thank you.
Now when Spiro Skouras telephoned me
yesterday afternoon --"
"Mr.
Skouras called you?" I exclaimed.
"Yesterday?"
"Yes.
You seem surprised."
He spoke casually, but his eyes were
alert and curious.
"He
just never mentioned it to me.
About going to the police, I mean."
“I
doubt he considered calling me as ‘going to the police’”, the Lieutenant
explained drily.
"Spiro and I
have known each other since we were children.
He merely called to tell me of the accident so someone could
be sent to the
Paleon Frourion
to rope off the area and insure no one
else would be harmed."
"I
see," I said, dismayed to learn he and Spiro were such old friends.
“If Mr. Skouras’s contact with you was
so casual, what made you decide you needed to see me?”
Something
flickered across the policeman’s face.
“This morning I received a visit from Geoffrey Redfield.”
I
nodded in relief.
“Yes, he
mentioned he’d been to see you.”
“When
was this?” he asked, watching me closely.
“This
morning,” I said.
“Sometime after
he saw you.
He came by my
hotel.
He wanted to show me
evidence that our accident yesterday might not have been an accident after
all.”
The
policeman’s mouth twitched derisively.
"The loose stone, the groove in the mortar?"
"Yes.
You don’t find them convincing?"
He
closed his eyes and shook his head, as if dismissing the answer of a backward
student.
"As evidence, they are
suggestive, perhaps.
Nothing
more."
"But
isn't it your responsibility to investigate
all
possibilities, even the
ones you consider unlikely?"
He
steepled his fingers together and pressed them against his lips.
"Yes, Miss Stewart.
That is why you are here."
I
swallowed the rebuke and said quietly, "What do you want to know?"
"Let
us begin at the beginning.
Tell me
your version of yesterday's events."
I
told him everything.
He listened
without interruption, and when I'd finished, his only question was, "Did
you not wonder why young Redfield was so determined to remain at the
Paleon
Frourion
until ten o'clock?"
"No,
it didn't occur to me to wonder about it."
I tried to keep my voice casual, but I was shaken to realize
Geoffrey hadn’t told the policeman of his plans to meet Michael.