The Mediterranean Caper (4 page)

She was about thirty and wore a red bikini swimsuit. The bikini was not the exaggerated brief kind, even though the lower half began a good two inches below the navel. The material had a stain sheen to it and clung tautly to her body like an outer layer of skin. Her figure was a beguiling mixture of grace and firmness; the stomach looked smooth and flat and the breasts were perfect, not too small but not too large and out of scale. Her legs were long, creamy colored and slightly on the thin side. Pitt decided to overlook this faint imperfection and swung his eyes to her face. The profile was exquisite. Her features possessed the beauty and mystery of a Grecian statue and would have rated near perfection except for a round pockmark beside her right temple. Ordinarily the scar would have been covered by her shoulder length black hair but she had thrown her head back as she watched the sunrise and the ebony strands angled back behind her shoulders, touching the sand and revealing the thin blemish.

Suddenly she turned and caught Pitt's examining stare.

“You're supposed to be watching the sunrise,” she said with a bemused smile.

“I've seen sunrises before, but this is the first time I've ever come face to face with a lovely, genuine Grecian Aphrodite.” Pitt could see her brown eyes flashing with enjoyment at his compliment.

“Thank you for the flattery, but Aphrodite was the Greek goddess of love and beauty, and I'm only half Greek.”

“What's the other half?”

“My father was German.”

“In that case I must thank the gods that you look after your mother's side.”

She gave a pouting glance. “You'd better not let my uncle hear you say that.”

“A typical kraut?”

“Yes, indeed. In fact he's why I happen to be on Thasos.”

“Then he can't be all bad,” Pitt said, admiring her hazel eyes. “Do you live with him?”

“No, actually I was born here but I was raised in England. I suffered through school there and when I was eighteen I fell in love with a dashing motorcar salesman and married him.”

“I didn't know car salesmen could be dashing.”

She ignored his sarcastic remark and continued. “He loved to race cars on his time off, and he was good at it too. He won trials and hill climbs and sporting car events.” She shrugged and began drawing circles in the sand with her finger. Her voice became strange and husky. “Then one weekend he was racing a supercharged MG. It was raining and he skidded off the course and hit a tree. He was dead before I could reach his side.”

Pitt sat silent for a minute, staring at her sad face. “How long ago?” he asked simply.

“It's been eight and a half years now,” she replied in a whisper.

Pitt felt dazed. Then anger set in. What a waste, he thought. What a rotten waste for a beautiful woman like her to grieve over a dead man for nearly nine years. The more he thought about it the angrier he became. He could see tears welling in her eyes as she lost herself in the remembrance, and the sight sickened him. He reached over and gave her a hard backhand slap across the face.

Her eyes jerked wide, and her whole body tensed from the sharp blow. It was as if she was struck by a bullet. “Why did you strike me?” she gasped.

“Because you needed it, needed it badly,” he snapped. “That torch you carry around is as worn out as an overcoat. I'm surprised someone hasn't taken you over a knee and spanked it off. So your husband was dashing. So what? He's dead and buried, and mourning over him for all these years won't resurrect him from the grave. Lock away his memory somewhere and forget him. You're a beautiful woman—you don't belong chained to a coffin full of bones. You belong to every man who turns and admires you as you pass by and who longs to possess you.” Pitt could see his words were penetrating her weak defenses. “Now you think about it. It's your life. Don't throw it away and play ‘Camille' until you're withered and gray.”

Her face was distraught in the morning sun, and her breath came in sobs. Pitt let her cry for a long time. When she finally raised her head and turned it toward him, he could see that her cheeks were streaked with tears, mixed with tiny grains of sand, clinging to the wetness. She looked up at him, and he caught the gleam in her eyes. They were soft and scared-looking, like a little girl's. He lifted her in his arms and kissed her. Her lips were warm and moist.

“When was the last time you had a man?” he whispered.

“Not since…” Her voice trailed away.

Pitt took her as the long shadows of the rocks crept upward over the beach, shielding their bodies from the sun. A flight of sandpipers circled overhead and descended upon the damp sand at the water's edge. They scurried back and forth, playing tag with the surf. Every so often one of the birds would cast a beady eye at the two lovers in the shade, staring for a fleeting instant before returning to the chore of stabbing its long, curved beak in the sand for food. The shadows shortened as the sun rose higher in the sky. A fishing boat chugged by a hundred yards from the end of the rocks. The fishermen, dropping their nets in the water, were too busy to notice anything unusual on the shore. At last Pitt drew back and gazed down at Teri's serene and smiling face.

“I don't know whether to ask for your thanks or your forgiveness,” he said softly.

“Please accept them both along with my blessing,” she murmured.

He kissed her lightly on the eyes. “See what you've been missing all these years,” he said, grinning.

“I agree. You've certainly shown me a wonderful antidote for my depression.”

“I always prescribe seduction. It's guaranteed to cure any and all rare maladies and common ailments.”

“And what is your fee, Doctor?” she said, accompanied with a feminine giggle.

“Consider it paid in full.”

“You're not going to get off that easily. I must insist you come to my uncle's house for dinner tonight.”

“I shall consider it an honor,” he said. “What time and how do I get there?”

“I'll have my uncle's driver pick you up at the entrance to Brady Field at six o'clock.”

Pitt's eyebrows raised. “What makes you think I'm stationed at Brady Field?”

“You're obviously an American and that's where all the Americans on the island are.” Teri grasped his hand and pressed it to her face. “Tell me about yourself. What type of job do you perform in your Air Force? Do you fly? Are you an officer?”

Pitt did his best to look serious. “I'm the base garbage collector.”

Her eyes opened wide in surprise. “Are you really? You're much too intelligent to be a garbage collector.” She looked into his strong tan face and his intense green eyes. “Oh well, I won't hold your occupation against you. Have you been promoted to sergeant yet?”

“No. I've never been a sergeant.”

Suddenly a bright flash in the rocks about two hundred feet away caught Pitt's attention. A shiny object reflected the sun's rays for a brief instant. He watched the area where the glint had shown but could detect no further flash or movement.

Teri felt him tense. “Is something the matter?” she asked.

“No, nothing,” Pitt lied. “I thought I saw something floating in the water, but it's disappeared now.” He looked at her upraised face, and his eyes turned devilish. “Well I'd better be getting back to the base, I've got a lot of garbage to collect.”

“I should return also. My uncle will probably wonder what happened to me.”

“Are you going to tell him?”

“Don't be silly,” she laughed. She stood up and brushed the sand from her body and adjusted the bikini.

Pitt smiled, getting to his feet. “Why is it women always seem so shy and demure before they've been laid yet so sparkling and carefree after?”

She shrugged lightheartedly. “I guess it's because sex releases all our frustrations and makes us feel earthy.” Her brown eyes flashed with intensity. “You see, we women have animal instincts too.”

Pitt playfully slapped her on the buttocks. “Come on, I'll walk you home.”

“You've got a long walk. My uncle's villa is in the mountains behind Liminas.”

“Where are the mountains and where is Liminas?”

“Liminas is a small village about six miles up the road,” she said, pointing north. “But I don't understand what you mean by asking about the mountains.” Her pointing hand swung toward the inland slopes a mile behind the road. “What do you call those?”

“In California, where I come from, we call anything under three thousand feet of elevation
hills.”

“You Yanks are always bragging.”

“It's a great American pastime.”

They leisurely walked up the path from the cove. On the shoulder, off to one side of the blacktop, sat a sporty little open-top Mini Cooper. The British racing green paint on the tiny car was barely visible beneath an outer coating of Thasos dust.

“How do you like my smashing Grand Prix racing car?” Teri asked proudly.

Pitt laughed; not so much at her exaggerated statement but rather the British use of the word
smashing
in reference to a car. “By jove, that's a bit of all right,” he said, mimicking her native terminology. “Is it yours?”

“Yes, I purchased it new in London just last month and drove it all the way from Le Havre.”

“How long will you be staying with your uncle?”

“I took a three month holiday so I'll be here at least another six weeks. Then I'm going to return home by boat. The drive across the continent was fun but far too tiring.”

Pitt opened the door for her, and she slid behind the steering wheel. She groped under the front seat for a moment and pulled out a set of keys. She inserted one in the ignition and started the engine. The exhaust coughed once and then blasted forth with a nasty little growl.

He leaned on the dusty door and lightly kissed her. “I hope your uncle won't be waiting for me with a shotgun.”

“Don't worry, he'll probably talk your arm off. He likes Air Force men. He was a flyer in the First World War.”

“Don't tell me,” Pitt said sarcastically. “I bet he claims to have flown with Richthofen.”

“Oh no, he was never in France. He fought right here in Greece.”

Pitt's sarcasm vanished and a cold, eerie feeling came over him. He gripped the door frame until his knuckles turned white. “Has your uncle ever mentioned…Kurt Heibert?”

“Many times. They used to fly patrols together.” She shoved the gearshift into first. Then she smiled and waved. “See you tonight. Now don't be late, cheery bye.”

Before Pitt could say another word, the midget car leapt up the road. He watched it snarl off into the distance toward the north. The dusty green blur passed over a crest of pavement and the last thing he saw was Teri's black hair whipping in the wind.

Already it was beginning to get uncomfortably hot. Idly, he turned and began walking back to the airfield. He stepped on a sharp object with his bare foot and cursed under his breath while he hopped about on one leg trying to remove a small burr. Jerking it from his heel angrily, he flipped it in a roadside bush. He was carefully watching the ground to avoid another sting when he noticed a set of footprints. Whoever made them had been wearing hobnailed soles.

Pitt knelt and studied the indentations. He could easily distinguish his and Teri's prints since they had both been barefoot. His mouth twisted grimly. In several places, the shoe prints covered the bare ones. Someone had followed Teri toward the beach, he reasoned. He raised one hand, and shielded his eyes, looking at the sun. It was still quite early so he decided to pursue the trail.

The tracks led halfway down the path and then veered off in the direction of the rocks. Here the trail ended so he scrambled over the hard craggy surface and picked up the scent again on the other side. The tracks angled back to the road, only further away from the path this time. A branch scraped a thorny limb across Pitt's arm, drawing thin lines of blood, but he was not aware of it. He was beginning to sweat when he stepped back on the road. At last the hobnailed prints ended and heavy tire tracks began. The tire's tread left a peculiar set of diamond-shaped patterns in the dirt beside the pavement.

There was no traffic visible in either direction so Pitt calmly laid the towel down in the center of the road, sat on it and began to reenact the scene in his mind.

Whoever shadowed Teri had parked here, walked back to her car and then followed her down the path. But before reaching the beach, the stalker must have heard voices so he turned and made his way in the darkness to the rocks where he hid, spying on the girl and Pitt. After it became light from the dawn, the intruder returned to the road, using the rocks to conceal his movements.

It was an elementary puzzle, and it fit neatly together, except for the fact that three pieces were missing. Why had Teri been followed and by whom? A thought occurred to Pitt and he smiled to himself. The simple answer was very likely a local Peeping Tom. If that were the case the observer got more than he bargained for.