The Divided Child (47 page)

           
"That
doesn't answer my question."

           
He
shrugged and abruptly released my wrist.
 
"Perhaps you should go pack now," he said coldly.

           
"Where's
Michael?"

           
"I
have no idea," he said, turning away and striding toward the door.
 
"Perhaps you should ask your dear
friend, Geoffrey."

*
                                 
*
                                 
*

           
Back
in my room, there wasn't much to do, as I hadn't really unpacked from the
previous day.
 
I was just gathering
up my toothbrush and comb when there was a soft knock at the door and Maria
entered with my laundered skirt and neatly darned blouse.
 
She had managed to get the bloodstains
out of both.

           
"Thank
you," I said.
 
"I
wondered where those had gotten to."
 
I took the clothes from her and put them in my suitcase, and then a
thought struck me.
 
"When did
you come by for them?"

           
She
shrugged and smiled a little, as if embarrassed.
 
"This morning, I wake early, so I decide to make some
laundry.
 
I come, quiet, into the
room to take the clothes, but you are already from the bed.
 
I hope I do not wake you?"

           
"The
room was empty?"
 
I asked.

           
She
nodded.
 
"I think you are like
me and cannot sleep."

           
"What
time was this?"

           
She
shrugged.
 
"I do not
know.
 
Perhaps seven o'clock?"

           
Seven
o'clock.
 
Roughly half-an-hour
before I woke to the sounds of Spiro and Geoffrey scuffling.
 
If Spiro had been gone from the room as
early as seven, then his brief reconnoiter of the grounds hadn't been as brief
as he'd hinted and he could well have been the one to push Helen over the
cliff.
 
"Did you tell
Lieutenant Mavros this?" I asked.

           
She
flashed me a look that revealed she knew quite well the implications of an
empty room on this of all mornings.
 
"He did not ask me," she replied simply.

           
Did
she think she was protecting me?
 
Or was it Spiro she was trying to protect?
 
"I think you ought to tell him," I said.

           
Her
eyes widened slightly in surprise.
 
"You think so?"

           
"Yes."

           
We
exchanged a long look and then she nodded.
 
"I will do as you say."
 
She looked down at my packed bags.
 
"You are leaving?"

           
"I'm
returning to my hotel in town."

           
"Goodbye,
then, and God go with you."
 
She turned to leave.

           
"Wait,
Maria, there was something I wanted to ask you -- about Paul.
 
What time did you call him the other
night at the hospital with the news about his mother?"

           
She
seemed taken aback by the question.
 
"I do not know," she said hesitantly.
 
"I think perhaps around nine
o'clock."
 

           
Around
nine o’clock.
 
So Paul
had
heard the news about his mother’s fall before Yiorgos Spyropoulos showed up to
guard Michael.
 
Why, then, had he
hung around talking and drinking coffee with the policeman for another hour?

           
“Maria,
do you know where Paul’s mother lives in Ioannina?
 
Do you have an address for her or a phone number?

           
"I
am sorry, Thesponis.
 
No.
 
It is important?"

           
I
shook my head slowly.
 
“I’m not
sure."

Chapter Twenty-Four

           
After
Maria had gone, I obtained permission to leave the villa from one of the
Lieutenant's minions and left the house as unobtrusively as possible.
 
Hefting my suitcases up in a firm grip,
I started up the drive.

           
"Wait
a moment.
 
I'll take those,"
said a voice behind me.
 
My
suitcases were slipped from my hands.

           
"You
don't have to do that," I said.
 
"I can carry them."

           
Geoffrey
shook his head.
 
"This isn't
gallantry, my dear, it's leverage.
 
With these in my possession, you'll have to let me drive you into town."

           
"Blackmail?"

           
"I
prefer to think of it as bargaining from a position of strength.
 
Besides, I don’t think it would be fair
to let you cart these all the way up the drive
and
the additional
half-mile down the highway to where the car is parked."
 
I raised my eyebrows at him.
 
He shrugged.
 
"My attempt at stealth.
 
Tackling Spiro in your room rather put such efforts to
waste, but I promise you, up until then I was trying to be discreet."
 

           
I
snorted derisively, a response he chose to ignore.

           
"Not
that it hasn't turned out for the best," he continued cheerfully.
 
"I feel a good bit easier knowing
you're safely out of that house."

           
I
felt easier, too, but I wasn't about to admit it to him.
 
"You're lucky the Lieutenant
didn't arrest you on the spot.
 
Of all
the mornings to come blundering onto the scene!"

           
His
expression sobered.
 
"Yes,
poor Helen."

           
"Mavros
considers you a suspect, you know."

           
He
shrugged.
 
"Under the
circumstance, I don’t blame him."

           
It
irked me that he didn’t seem more worried.
 
"For what it’s worth, I didn’t mention your meeting in
Koussaki to him.”
 

           
"What
meeting?” he said.

           
“Your
meeting with Helen.
 
At the
church.”

           
"I've
no idea what you're talking about."

           
"The
first day I came to
Ithaki
," I reminded him impatiently.
 
"I saw Helen heading up the
drive.
 
She looked furtive, so I
followed her."

           
"So
much for your promise to be careful."

           
"Don’t
try to change the subject.
 
I
followed her to that small town down the road, Koussaki, to the church
there.
 
She met a man and they
talked."
 
I paused and waited
for him to say something.
 
When he
didn't, I added, "That man was you."

           
"No,
it wasn't, Christine."

           
"Look,
I understand why you’re hesitant to admit it now, but I know Helen was your
contact here at
Ithaki
.
 
That’s
how you always knew what was going on with me and Michael."

           
"And
how, pray tell, did I bend the not-so-fair Helen to my will?"

           
"I
don't know.
 
Perhaps you paid her,
perhaps you exerted your not inconsiderable male charms upon her."
 
The corners of his mouth began to
twitch.
 
Irritated, I said, "I
doubt it took much prompting to get her to trash my room."

           
His
expression immediately sobered.
 
"You think I'm responsible for that?"

           
"I
think you enlisted her help to persuade me to leave -- for my own good, of
course.
 
Though I don't think you
were prepared for her to be quite as destructive as she turned out to be."

           
"You’re
wrong, Christine," he said quietly.
 
“I never would have subjected you to that, no matter how much I wanted
you to leave.”
 
He paused and
flashed me a look that caused my stomach to do an odd little flip.
 
“I have a little more regard for you
than that, you know," he added in a deeper tone.

           
We
had reached the Mercedes.
 
He set
down my bags and unlocked the passenger door for me, but instead of helping me
into the car, he drew me into his arms.
 
"Mavros explained about you and Skouras switching rooms," he
murmured against my hair.
 
"Why
didn't you tell me?"

           
I
thought of him and Elizabeth and pulled away.
 
"I didn't think it mattered."

           
His
arms dropped away.
 
"No?"

           
I
shook my head and ducked into the car.

           
He
carefully stowed my luggage in the trunk, then climbed into the driver's
seat.
 
He flashed me an enquiring
look, but I turned away to stare out the window.
 
He let out an sharp breath and started the car.
 
We were gliding through Ypsos before he
said, "Do you think you might tell me what's wrong now?"

           
"You
mean besides the fact that Helen's dead, I've been shot at, and Michael may be
in the hands of a murderer?"

           
He
flashed me a sidelong glance.
 
"Yes, besides that," he said gently.

           
I
was tempted to tell him.
 
Tempted
to succumb to the tenderness I heard -- imagined? -- in his voice and lay
myself bare.
 
Confess my feelings.
 
Admit my jealousy.
 
Plead for some assurance that what I
knew to be true, wasn't.

           
I
was tempted, but then I remembered the last big risk I'd taken and how badly it
had turned out.
 
I wasn't sure I
could bear a second such humiliation so soon after the first.
 
Worse, I was afraid.
 
Being rejected by a father I'd longed
for most of my life suddenly seemed easy compared to being rejected by the man
sitting next to me, whom I'd known a mere ten days.
 

           
"Christine?"
he prompted, holding his right hand out to me as he kept his eyes on the
road.
 

           
I
ignored the proferred hand.
 
"Nothing's the matter.
 
I'm just worried about Michael, that's all."

           
He
placed his hand back on steering wheel.
 
“I see.”

           
“Mavros
still doesn't seem to grasp the danger he's in,” I continued.
 
“We’ve got to find him ourselves.”

           
“And
what do you propose we do that the police haven't already done?”

           
“Track
down Paul,” I said.

           
He
seemed surprised.
 
“How would that
help?
 
Paul left the island before
Michael disappeared.
 
His mother
broke her hip."

           
"Did
she?" I said skeptically.
 
"I wonder.
 
Maria says
she phoned Paul with the news about his mother around nine.
 
But he was still at the hospital at ten
when the policeman assigned to guard Michael arrived.
 
And he stayed there another hour just hanging out, acting as
if nothing was wrong."

           
"That
doesn't mean anything.
 
He probably
knew he'd have a wait for the ferry and decided he might as well spend the time
in comfort at the hospital as spend it down by the dock."

           
"Comfort
is hardly the word I'd use to describe that place!"

           
"The
point is --" he began.

           
"The
point is,” I interrupted, “if Paul stayed at the hospital for another hour, he
couldn't
have taken the ferry to Igoumenitsa that night.
 
This morning, I asked one of the Lieutenant's men.
 
The last ferry leaves at ten."

           
"So
he missed the ferry and had to cross the next morning.
 
That hardly proves he's involved in
Michael's disappearance."