Nemesis of the Dead (13 page)

Corrie was adrift in no man’s land – that nebulous state between sleeping and waking where dreams meet reality and mingle until they become indistinguishable. She had watched Katastrophos work its subtle magic on all of them – not to change them but to liberate their innermost feelings. This weird, hypnotic island had empowered them in some way, intensified the hopes and ambitions that had lain hidden when they arrived. A fanciful notion anywhere else, thought Corrie, but true here. Look at Marjorie, gaining more self-assurance than Amphitrite ever dared to assume. Sidney, cheery Dionysus, falling helplessly in thrall to a mesmerizing but married Medusa, completely beyond his reach. Tim and Ellie, so very nearly Orpheus and Eurydice, the tragic lovers, with timid Tim, made strong by the need to coax his wife back from Hades and Ellie, ever the nervous nymph, who nevertheless made the bold pilgrimage to the monastery in the hopes of a honeymoon baby. On the darker side, there was Sky, vengeful Nemesis, struggling beneath the weight of some huge, bitter injustice she had not yet managed to lift; Ambrose, strutting like Poseidon, believing himself capable of subjugating any woman he chose, and Zeus, the God King – the professor, obsessed with his plants, maybe to forget the bitter reality that his young wife had married him for money and power rather than for love.

Had Katastrophos bewitched Jack? she wondered. Probably not. It was true he was behaving like Argus the All-Seeing, twitchy and watchful. He was always like that when he was working on a case. But he wasn’t supposed to be on a case, was he? He was off duty – on honeymoon. So she, Corrie, was the only one to remain unaffected, unbewitched. She was the same as ever, sensible and down to earth. Katastrophos hadn’t persuaded her to do anything out of the ordinary. Except for continually feeling herself drawn into a compelling parallel world of ancient Greek gods, cooking for ten people when she was supposed to be on holiday from catering, imagining an international smuggling ring that didn’t exist and climbing a mountain in a violent thunderstorm in order to eat a bit of lamp wick. No, she wasn’t bewitched at all.

S
unday morning. Unaware of the nefarious high jinks of the previous night, some of the guests at Hotel Stasinopoulos were surprised to see Charon’s ferry moored at the landing stage when they came down early for breakfast. At Jack’s instigation, Maria and Sky had prepared Ellie, swaddling her in blankets for her voyage, as the morning sea mist was damp and chilly. Yanni constructed a makeshift stretcher and Tim and Jack carried her to the boat. Jack was privately dismayed that she looked so ill and weighed so little. Even her bright ginger hair seemed dull and lifeless. Jack prayed that with hospital treatment, she would make a complete recovery.

Everybody came down to the quay to see her off except Professor Gordon, who had gone out at dawn to forage in the olive groves on the far side of the hotel, so would not have seen the ferry. Charon and Yanni looked edgy and avoided Jack’s eye. In fact, thought Jack, they had done him a favour although they did not yet realize it. Had it not been for their wine fiddle, Ellie would have waited seven more days for hospital care and he tried not to speculate on what that might have meant.

‘Take care, dear. I hope you’ll be well again soon.’ Marjorie Dobson leaned over the stretcher and kissed Ellie lightly on the cheek, then she kissed Tim, tense and anxious to be off. ‘Such a shame their honeymoon has to end in this awful way,’ she remarked to Corrie.

Corrie glanced at Ambrose, standing a few yards back, shivering irritably in the cool morning air and looking disagreeable. No change there. She was surprised he had made the effort at all, then she had a sudden thought.

‘I wondered, Marjorie, since the ferry is making an unscheduled trip back to the mainland, whether you and Ambrose might have taken advantage of the opportunity and gone home early. I remember Ambrose saying he wanted to leave last week.’

Marjorie’s expression was hard to read. ‘Mm. I was expecting him to start playing up, insisting we went home, too, but he said there was something he still needed to do on the island. We’d paid for two weeks and he was staying until he’d had his money’s worth. Well, my money’s worth to be accurate. “There are still some debts outstanding” was the way he put it. And naturally, I don’t want to go yet. I rather like it here and I don’t know about Ambrose but there are certainly some things I promised myself I’d do before I went home.’ She smiled enigmatically, pulled her cardigan closer and walked back to Ambrose.

‘Good luck, kid.’ Diana stepped forward. Her blonde hair was tousled as if she’d just got out of bed and she wore an ivory silk peignoir trimmed with maribou. Even without make-up she still looked gorgeous, Corrie observed ruefully. She was surprised to see her discreetly shove a fistful of notes into Tim’s hand. ‘Get something to make her feel good – roses, perfume, you know the kind of thing she likes.’ Easy to be generous with your husband’s money, thought Corrie uncharitably.

Sidney had climbed aboard the ferry with Jack and was helping to make Ellie as comfortable and stable as possible for the trip. The sea promised to be calm – at least for the next twenty-four hours. Satisfied, they came ashore and joined everyone else on the jetty, waiting for Charon to start the engine. The last person to leave Ellie was Sky. She had spoken at length to Tim and provided such medical advice as she could with regard to the journey. He hugged her and she was visibly moved. Then she stepped nimbly up the gangplank on to the quay and disappeared back to the hotel without speaking or looking at anyone.

‘I thought Sky might have gone with Ellie,’ Corrie said to Jack.

He shrugged. ‘So did I. But she said there was nothing more she could do for her and she needed to stay on Katastrophos for a while longer. Something she needed to do.’

‘I don’t suppose you feel like going home, do you?’ said Corrie, wistfully. Her honeymoon hex had kicked in with a vengeance this time and she was homesick for her squashy, king-size bed and a deep, hot bath full of bubbles. She was also keen to find out if she still had a business or whether the answerphone was bristling with cancellations following poor Lavinia’s unfortunate death.

‘Not really, sweetheart. I admit it’s tempting but there’s something I have to finish here before I can leave.’

What
were
all these things that people felt they absolutely had to do before they could leave Katastrophos? There was nothing Corrie wanted to do. As far as she was concerned, she could cheerfully leave right now, without a backward glance!

‘Besides,’ said Jack, giving her a squeeze, ‘we still have the rest of our honeymoon to enjoy.’

She stared at him. ‘I can’t believe you just said that. It’s been sheer unadulterated hell so far. Why should it suddenly become enjoyable?’

‘What’s happening? What’s going on?’ Professor Gordon approached at a trot, his spindly legs twinkling towards them. He still carried his bulging sample case. ‘Why is Charon’s ferry here? It’s not due until Saturday.’ His tufts of bright ginger whiskers bristled with alarm ‘You’re not leaving, are you, Diana? You’re not going home without me?’ His face was filled with concern.

Bless, thought Corrie. It was heart-rending the way he adored his wife in spite of her being a mercenary, duplicitous little tart.

Diana strolled over to him. ‘Does it look like I’m going home, Cuthbert?’ She held out the silk skirts of her négligé, revealing glorious naked thighs. ‘I don’t regularly travel in my night clothes.’

He calmed down. ‘No, of course you don’t, my darling. Silly of me.’

Charon started the engine and they stood clear of the clouds of stinking blue smoke.

‘The ferry is taking Ellie to hospital, Professor,’ explained Corrie.

‘Already?’ He seemed agitated. ‘But I thought she wasn’t going until next Saturday.’

‘Slight change of plan.’ Jack spoke to the professor but was looking at Yanni. ‘Charon turned up unexpectedly on another matter entirely and was kind enough to agree to take Tim and Ellie back with him.’

‘Oh. I see. Well, that’s splendid – er – splendid.’ The professor appeared distracted. He consulted his Rolex, which was when Jack noticed the blistery rash on the back of his hand.

‘That looks nasty, Professor. How did it happen?’

He glanced at it, vaguely. ‘What? Oh, that. I nicked one of my surgical gloves with the scalpel when I was taking specimens. Must have let some sap through.’ He rubbed at it absently.

‘I had a rash just like that,’ said Sid, holding out the back of his hand. ‘Mine’s nearly gone now, though.’

The professor beamed. ‘Yes, I remember, old chap. It would have been the mucilaginous liquid from the
Ecballium elaterium
, the squirting cucumber. Magnificently potent! I did warn you it might cause a reaction.’

‘No, I don’t think it was that,’ began Sid, ‘because the squirty cucumber was on the other …’ He stopped abruptly as Jack grasped his arm with iron fingers. ‘Er – yes, I guess you’re right, Professor.’ He raised puzzled eyebrows at Jack.

‘Well thank goodness that’s all sorted.’ Corrie took Jack’s arm briskly and led him back up the path to the hotel and breakfast, such as it was. ‘You’ve solved the riddle of the flashing monastery, Ellie’s safely on her way to hospital where they’ll do tests and find out what made her ill, and Maria’s fully recovered from her bad egg or whatever it was she ate. And so far, Marjorie hasn’t shown any obvious signs of bumping off Ambrose. Even if we can’t go home yet, maybe we shall get a few days’ peace and quiet with no more crises. Maybe, too, you’ll relax at last and stop treating Professor Gordon like some latter day Dr Crippen.’

‘What did you say?’ Jack was miles away.

‘I said maybe we’ll get a bit of peace and—’

‘No – I mean the bit about Dr Crippen. He was a poisoner, wasn’t he? He poisoned his wife. I wonder what he—’

‘Jack! Don’t start! Just do not start!’

They were lying in the ripples, where baking sand met the silvered calm of the Ionian. The sun beat down on the arid rocks where lizards squinted and shed their skins. They had oiled their supine bodies so that they should not shed theirs. For the first time since their arrival, Corrie felt Katastrophos seemed like something approaching Poseidon’s island paradise instead of the holiday resort from Hades. But even so, her mind would not relax totally. So much had happened that was still unexplained and the answers shimmered, like smoke and mirrors, just out of her reach. It was that blasted disengagement from reality that the professor had talked about. She squinted sideways at Jack, lying apparently dozing but with that ‘coiled spring’ look that implied he could leap into action at a moment’s notice.

‘Haven’t you got small feet,’ he observed, drowsily nudging her toes with his.

‘Small feet run in my family.’

‘Big noses run in mine.’

They giggled at their feeble jokes then Corrie asked:

‘How d’you suppose Sky found out you were a copper?’

‘Dunno,’ he said without opening his eyes. ‘Maybe she saw my handcuffs.’

‘What?’ Corrie sat up, horrified. ‘Jack, you didn’t bring your handcuffs on honeymoon! Whatever will people think? I expect Sky has told everyone about them as well. They’ll have us down as one of those weird couples who do kinky things to each other.’

‘I didn’t bring them on purpose, sweetheart,’ he lied. ‘I just forgot to take them out of my jacket. Stop getting wound up about nothing. Like you said, all the crises are over now. Let’s just relax and enjoy the sun.’

Unconvinced, she lay down again and put her sunhat over her face. If I were a betting person, she thought, I’d put next month’s profits on Jack the All-Seeing being up to his multiple eyes in something dodgy that he still isn’t telling me about.

It was early evening and the sun had lost much of its fire as they strolled back to Hotel Stasinopoulos to see what was for dinner. They heard the wailing and moaning even before they reached the paved forecourt. Jack broke into a run and together they raced to the kitchen where everyone was crowding around Ariadne. She was flapping her apron and screeching ‘
Ayoo! Ayoo
!’ Her distress was obvious and very noisy. Maria tried to comfort her but she would have none of it and continued afresh, her cries rising and falling in ear-splitting crescendos.

‘What’s the matter with her?’ Jack asked Diana.

Diana shrugged. ‘Search me. She was taking her usual nap in the olive grove, when she woke up suddenly and started that god-awful howling. I’ll fetch Cuthbert. She’s crazy about him. He’ll calm her down.’

‘For Gawd’s sake, Ariadne, give it a rest, love,’ Sid bellowed. ‘You’re giving us all GBH of the ear’ole. What’s up? Are you in pain?’ He looked round at them bemused. ‘Who’d have thought a racket like that could come out of such a little old lady? We could do with her in the crowd up the Stadium.’

‘Damned woman’s probably poisoned herself instead of us, for a change,’ said Ambrose, cynically. ‘Serves her right. Someone give her a good slap.’

‘Dear me,’ said Marjorie to Corrie. ‘You don’t think she really is victim number three, do you?’

‘I doubt it. She isn’t clutching her stomach or writhing in pain – just sitting there shrieking.’

Diana returned then with the professor. He went straight to Ariadne and spoke gently to her in Greek. She gabbled back, plucking at his arm and gesticulating. Jack feared it might indeed be another case of poisoning until he caught the words: ‘Agia Sofia’ a couple of times and guessed it was something superstitious that was making her bawl. He relaxed – but only slightly.

‘Ariadne has had a dream,’ announced the professor with heavy portent.

‘Is that all!’ Sid sat down. ‘I have nightmares most nights. Usually about Arsenal losing at home to—’

‘Yes, thanks, Sid,’ interrupted Jack. ‘What sort of dream, Professor?’

‘She says St Sophia appeared to her. The saint is very angry because women – foreign women – who are not from the island were permitted to take part in her pilgrimage.’

‘Oh
Mitéra
!’ Maria was horrified. ‘But we thought she would be pleased. Is that why she sent the sickness of the stomach to poor Mrs Watkins and me?’

Ariadne gabbled some more, then buried her face in the professor’s jacket and would speak no more.

‘It appears,’ he said, patting her small head, ‘that St Sophia has cursed Katastrophos and that one by one, all the women will take the sickness and die.’

‘Oh nice,’ said Sid. ‘With a saint like that you don’t really need the devil, do you?’

Corrie glanced at Jack to see what he thought of Ariadne’s revelation, but he wasn’t looking at her, he was watching Cuthbert Gordon.

‘I’m not standing here wasting my time listening to this absurd claptrap!’ Ambrose grasped Marjorie’s elbow. ‘The woman’s clearly unhinged. Living in the Dark Ages. She’d have been burned as a witch not so long ago. Come along, Marjorie, I need you to cut my toenails.’

‘In a minute, dear.’ She gently but firmly unhooked her arm from his grasp. ‘I want to hear what the professor thinks. You go on up – I’ll be there in a minute.’

For a moment it looked as though Ambrose was about to protest, make a humiliating scene and order Marjorie to do as she was told. Indeed, he opened his mouth to do just that, then he saw her firm, unwavering expression – one he had never seen before – and thought better of it. He would speak to her later about her persistent and unacceptable rebelliousness. He folded his jacket carefully over his arm and walked with small petulant steps towards the stairs.

‘My mother has the powers,’ explained Maria. ‘She is what you call …’ out came the ancient phrase book, ‘… soothsayer.’

‘That’s all we’re short of,’ mumbled Sid. ‘A flippin’ prophet of doom.’

‘Last week,’ continued the professor, ‘just before the pilgrimage to the monastery, Ariadne came to me and told me she had been walking on the great white cliff above Katastrophos Bay. Suddenly, she saw the sea curdle and become very still. Far out, a dim form rose up, hovered there pointing a finger, then disappeared again beneath the waves. She believes the figure was St Sophia. Ariadne says it was a warning which went unheeded.’