The Pleasure Seekers (11 page)

Tears filled her eyes and she covered her face with both her hands and took several deep breaths. It had finally sunk in. Arnold was dead and gone from Livakia forever. His death would leave a gap in all of their lives. It was Manoussos who rose from his chair and went to her. He handed her a handkerchief and stroked her hair before he returned to his chair opposite.

When she lowered her hands she was more in control of herself. The first thing she did was to address Dimitrios. ‘I’m sorry, Dimitrios, but it was such a shock. Only days ago he was alive and happy, happier than I had seen him for a long, long time. Forgive me? That was grief talking, pulling at your sleeve.’

‘We are all grieving, Kiria D’Arcy. We are all very upset that such a thing could have happened here.’

D’Arcy, a quick mind at the best of times, realised that there was more than grief going on. She
turned to Manoussos and asked, ‘What happened? When, how, why?’

‘Let me tell you everything we know to date. The evening after our return from the picnic everything here was as usual. The following day Mark returned by boat at lunchtime. It seems there was a message waiting for him when you dropped him off in Rethymnon, a publisher he wanted to see was arriving in Athens. He made his way back home as quickly as possible to pick up a manuscript and planned to leave by plane for Athens the following day. He was very excited and so was everyone else who had heard about it.

‘The Kavouria was filled to capacity – everyone in Livakia seemed to want to have lunch on the port that day. Dimitrios and I were talking business a few tables from where Arnold and half a dozen others were dining. It began from nothing, as all those little tiffs that flared up between Arnold and Mark began. One overheard it but paid little attention. Arnold asked, “How is the new book coming on?”

‘“Fine, just fine. If it wasn’t, Arnold, would I be making this trip to Athens? How is your war against the ants coming along?” Mark answered testily – you know, with that certain tone he could take with Arnold, especially when he had been drinking heavily.

‘Arnold replied, “Well, I’m not winning. I can’t understand it because my house is immaculate. There is never a crumb anywhere and yet still they come. It’s so upsetting. You don’t have them, do you?”

‘“Of course I don’t have them. You make entirely too much fuss about them and behave worse than any old
woman. It’s because you have nothing more important to occupy your mind than how to pour yourself into an early grave, and drive Melina mad while she’s trying to get on with the work you hired her to do.”

‘Arnold became unusually annoyed at being spoken to in that way by Mark. His annoyance turned to anger and he was pretty aggressive with Mark when he told him, “I’m not making too much fuss, and since you have brought Melina into this, I might just as well tell you that
your
Melina has been no help. I paid her good money to come and caulk the windows and she did not do a good job. She left gaps and that’s where the ants come in. She never properly finishes any job that she begins.”

‘It was Arnold’s voice that was drawing attention from everyone around. His stuttering was worse than usual and he was loud, and yes, had had a lot to drink, but was not by any means slipping off his chair in a catatonic state. This was more than the spats we were all used to. In a very calm voice Mark asked, “Arnold, why do you take her for odd jobs when you always complain that she’s no help and does everything badly? She does things perfectly for me.”

‘Then he began to laugh at Arnold and told him, “You poor pathetic thing, stop fussing. If you don’t like the way she works then, tell me, why do you keep asking her to go to your house? It’s not too clever of you to badger Melina to work for you, and tell her how bad a job she does, and then overpay her for it. She goes off thinking she’s done a great job for you and you come here and tell everyone what a rotten worker she is, how she overcharges you. She doesn’t take kindly to that. You’re
such a fucking hypocrite, Arnold! You disgust me. You overpay so she’ll keep quiet about how much you fancy her. All your slagging her off is to cover up those pathetic drunken sexual advances she has to fend off. She doesn’t like working for you, Arnold, she does it for survival money, and I’m going to see that she doesn’t have to do it again. She holds you in disdain. A poor, hardly literate Cretan girl, Arnold, despises you for your weakness and hypocrisy –
that’s
what you’ve been reduced to.”

‘Of course by that time more than a dozen people had overheard the whole thing. Too much had been said. Things that would not be forgotten easily and certainly not by Arnold since he was sober enough to understand every word. The two men were silent for a few minutes. Arnold poured out what was left of the bottle of wine in front of him into two glasses. I am sure everyone felt as I did, that the two men should leave it at that. But, alas, they couldn’t. You could see it in their faces, too much had been brought out in the open, too many secrets revealed. Arnold leaned both hands on the edge of the table for support and said, loud enough for the entire restaurant to hear, “Mark, I think it’s time you and I settled a few things. I think we should have it out like gentlemen.”

‘“Whatever are you talking about?” asked Mark.

‘“I’m talking about the way you speak to Melina about me. There was a time several months back when she was only too happy to come and spend time with me. As a matter of fact, to lead
me
on as to how much she wanted to be more, much more, than a skivvy to me. It was she who did the running, the seducing. It was not just for the money either, though she wanted that and other little
gifts. She enjoyed being with me and listened to what I had to say, appreciated my suggestions as to how she could better herself and her life. She didn’t mock me in public as well as in private then, or steal from me as she does now.”

‘Arnold’s stammer became pitifully pronounced and there were longer hesitations in mid-sentence but he carried on. Nothing could have stopped him. He was more angry and aggressive than I had ever seen him. This was an Arnold none of us had ever seen. He emptied his glass and continued. “It has grown increasingly embarrassing for me since that night at your house several months ago when you stopped Melina from coming home with me. I have seen you consistently poison her against me, and it’s not just Melina, Mark. You ridicule me in front of other people and I don’t appreciate it in the least.

‘“There is something else I want to address here. I have been watching you spoil Melina, making her believe that she is more intelligent than she is, giving her authority to do things that she should not be doing: control of your house when you’re away, telling her that she is indispensable to you and your life, that she belongs in it. You have no idea how she behaves when she’s in charge. You’ve inflated an already over-large ego and have actually convinced her that she is more clever than anyone in Livakia. How could you teach her to despise me, treat me with disdain in public in the manner that you do? I want you to stop it, and for you both to treat me with respect, if for no other reason than that I am a human being.”

‘Tears welled up in Arnold’s eyes but he sat fast and
never took his gaze off Mark. It was then that Tom Plum tried to stop it. He suggested it had all been said and it was time to go home for siesta, that he would accompany Arnold home. But would Mark allow Arnold the last word? Not on your life.

‘He talked past Tom, asked, “Are those tears of anger with me, Arnold? Tears of frustration? Or are they tears of unrequited love for Melina? Forget her. As long as you have brought up that embarrassing night at my house, let me tell you, you were so drunk and made such a scene over Melina, demanding that she should take you home and have sex with you, that it was easy to let you know at last what a fool you were making of yourself.”

‘“Why a fool, Mark? Because you like having her for yourself and pretending you don’t pay for it, as I did, as others do?”

‘No one quite remembers exactly what happened next, it all happened so fast. Mark jumped to his feet and shouted, “Stop it, Arnold, you never had her. And you are being extremely indiscreet and libellous.”

‘Melina appeared as if from nowhere, which stunned everyone and silenced the two men. She had been sitting in the shadows, making herself invisible – you know how she can do that – and had probably heard all that had been going on. After filling Arnold’s and Mark’s glasses, she placed a newly opened bottle of wine on the table. She was flirting outrageously with Arnold, picking up his glass and placing it in his hand, wrapping his fingers round it and covering them with her own, moving the glass to his lips, undressing him all the time with her mischievous, sexy eyes.

‘Mark, in a very angry voice, demanded she leave him alone, asked her if she was stupid and didn’t understand she was being insulted by Arnold, and in front of everyone, or hadn’t she heard what had been going on? She said she had only been trying to help. After scanning the faces of everyone around, faces that turned away because they were embarrassed over the entire incident, she demanded the key to Mark’s house, declaring she wanted to go home. He told her it was in its usual place. And after glaring at both men she shoved her way past the seated diners and ran from the Kavouria.

‘Arnold struggled to his feet. He raised his glass. His hands were trembling so badly the wine spilled over his fingers. He paid no attention, composed himself and told Mark, “It’s not just Melina. The things you say behind my back to her are only a part of it. The things you say in front of other people, my friends, humiliate me. We’ve known each other for more than ten years, have been friends who have helped each other, protected each other as foreigners living in this community. I find that I’m still doing it for you but you’re attacking me, abandoning me as a friend, and when you do that you’re not just attacking me, you’re showing yourself up in a bad light. It’s not only that you’re rude to me, it’s your attitude and manner. I am the abused one and still I’m speaking to you as a friend. Something is happening to you, you’re doing evil things and covering them up with your excellent vocabulary and perfect diction. Some day it will reverberate and you’ll pay heavily for what you do. There are times I don’t know you, you’ve changed beyond recognition.”

‘The two men were still on their feet. Arnold was
tottering, but bravely tried to keep his balance, a proud but beaten man. Mark – well, it was frightening to look at Mark. He sipped his drink looking handsome and fit with his youthful face, those cold blue eyes, and then quite suddenly the face seemed to slip: the eyes went first from ice to venom – the nostrils seemed to grow narrower, the lips became thin and curled. Arnold, perspiring profusely, appeared to feel cold. He shivered visibly, and announced to the table that he wanted to go home. Unbelievably, it was Mark who offered to take him. That seemed to galvanise everyone at the table. Chairs were scraped back and several other people offered. It was Dimitrios who took him home, undressed him and put him to bed.

‘Forty-eight hours later Max found Arnold lying on that deserted beach where he liked to swim. You know the place, that small cove that’s so difficult to get to, where he kept his rowing boat in the little grotto. He was fully clothed, not a mark on his body, his basket by his side.’

‘When was that?’ asked Laurence.

‘Two days ago.’

‘Poor Arnold. Well, at least it was quick and he didn’t suffer,’ said D’Arcy.

‘I didn’t say that,’ said Manoussos.

‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean that there are no clues as to what happened to him except the expression on his face, and that did not show that death came to him easily.’

‘His liver, his heart, anything might have given out. He was bound to have some discomfort before he died,’ said Laurence, taking D’Arcy’s hand in his because he thought she was beginning to look distressed again.

‘He had had his annual check-up in Paris four months ago. In spite of his drinking he was in very good health,’ Manoussos told them.

‘You suspect foul play? Not possible surely, not here in Livakia? He was too cautious to get involved with anything or anyone who could do him harm,’ said D’Arcy.

‘We’ll know more when we get the autopsy report.’

‘Autopsy report?’ D’Arcy jumped up from her chair. ‘Then you do think it was a suspicious death?’

‘I’m not ruling that out, at least for the moment.’

‘Then it’s not just grief that has sent everyone behind closed doors? It’s suspicion, shame. People are angry. Arnold’s death could be part of some sort of a vendetta, and now everyone will be wary of everyone else until the mystery is solved and they know no one else in Livakia could be involved.’

D’Arcy sat down again. She had heard about these Cretan vendettas all her life: the way they could break up a family or a village for generations. The aftermath could be horrendous even for those who just got in the way. She had never seen it first hand, or experienced the tragedy of those vendettas. The closest she had come to anything like that had been when she was a child and a man had hidden out for years in Livakia. He went away one day, just vanished. Several weeks later an unidentified body was found on a road on the other side of the island. The newspapers were asking about missing persons. He was without family or close friends so no one bothered to claim the body as their missing neighbour. They didn’t want to bring the vendetta home
to Livakia. An identification might have, and with it more murders for merely harbouring the man in the village for so many years.

Laurence too knew about vendettas, everyone who lived in Crete did. He spoke up. ‘This will all blow over, this notion of someone’s having such a serious grudge against Arnold as to declare a vendetta. That’s ridiculous.’

‘It may not be, Laurence. Arnold could be very insensitive to Cretan pride – not deliberately but out of ignorance. And we don’t know all of what his life was like. Arnold had his secrets, as we all do,’ said Manoussos.

For only the second time, Dimitrios spoke up. ‘No one saw Kirios Arnold from the time I brought him home until Kirios Max found him. Where was he? The night after I left him he wasn’t in his house. I went to see if he was all right the following morning. At eight o’clock he was already gone. No one saw him in the port all that day or night. Where was he drinking? Where was he eating? I thought he’d taken that trip he said he was going to make, so I didn’t even worry about him. I never even thought to look for him. I thought it was a good thing he wasn’t around after such a terrible scene with Kirios Mark.’