The Tomb of Zeus Read online

  The urgent knocking came at the door at six-thirty. Gunning, passing through the hallway in search of an ashtray, remembered Eleni was busy putting George to bed and the rest of the house-hold was already in the drawing room having cocktails with Phoebe's younger sister and her French husband. They had chosen to stay in a hotel nearby during their stay on the island, rather than under Theo's roof. Good move, Gunning thought. Alice clearly disliked and mistrusted Theodore, and Theo had, in an aside to Gunning, described the pair as the leeches who were making off with his money. A potentially awkward party. Letty, who, strangely, seemed determined to enjoy herself, had set him the task of oiling the social wheels, being the life and soul and a few other impossibilities. Young Alice and her husband had turned out to be a charming and entertaining couple and he found, to his surprise, that he was annoyed by the threat of an interruption. He actually wanted to return to the gathering. He didn't want to greet whoever was on the other side of the door.

  He opened it anyway and in rushed Harry Stoddart.

  “Oh, hello, Harry. Come to see George? You're a bit late—he's just going to bed.”

  “No, no! It's not George I'm concerned for. I'm quite sure he's in good hands or I wouldn't have released him. I would have come earlier—should have come earlier—but…there's been a problem. I need Laetitia. Please, will you summon Laetitia at once?”

  “Not sure I can spare her, old boy,” said Gunning doubtfully. “Not sure she'd want to leave the party. She's all dolled up in her best oyster silk what d'ye call'ems? Evening pyjama suit? Would that be it? Pearls down to her bum, you know the sort of thing. And onto her third cocktail by now.”

  Harry was getting increasingly agitated. “I don't care if she's in a rabbit suit or her birthday suit—she's got to come to the jail with me. Right now! It's Ollie! Mariani called by the house half an hour ago with his henchmen and they took Ollie away with them. They've got her in the lockup! Ollie's been arrested!”

  “Ollie's got herself arrested? On a Sunday evening in Herakleion?” Gunning was disposed to laugh. “That takes a bit of doing! What on earth's the charge?”

  Harry could hardly allow the words to pass his gritted teeth: “Disturbing the peace,” he admitted. “And affray—whatever that is. Lucky, I suppose, that they stopped short of a wounding charge but they could see that was never going to stick—the man could still walk.”

  “Harry?” said Gunning faintly.

  “She went for one of the coppers. Had the sense to keep her hands off Mariani but his sergeant really annoyed her. She, er, well, you must have noticed the elephant's foot umbrella stand in the hall?”

  “Used it many a time, old boy. It's an arresting object,” said Gunning, guessing the outcome.

  Harry glowered. “It's not a laughing matter. She picked it up-must weigh a ton—that's how angry she was, and she dropped it on the man's foot.”

  “Ouch!” said Gunning, cringing.

  “Well, damage not too bad, considering…police boots being what they are. But, listen, William—that's not the worst of it. No, not by a long chalk. The ‘affray’ is a holding charge. Just an excuse to get her down there and grill her. They've got their sights on her for something much, much more sinister.”

  “Grievous bodily harm?”

  “No, no! Murder! To be precise: murdering Phoebe. I know…I know…Piece of ridiculous nonsense! But Mariani was very sure of himself, and quite determined to get her away from the house, and me, to frighten her into a confession. Huh! He doesn't know Olivia!” Stoddart said with an odd flash of pride. “She'll give him what for! But the officious fool wouldn't allow me to accompany her. Must have thought I'd speak for her, prompt her or something. She's quite capable of speaking for herself. But it's not right, hauling a chap's wife off into the night like that without so much as a toothbrush. I threatened. I pleaded. I called his bridge club membership into question. I finally got through to him using a lever Ollie herself would not have approved of: impropriety.”

  “You've lost me, Harry.”

  “In this town, you can't have it known that you've interviewed a lady by herself in a prison cell. Just not done. When he calmed down—I must say Ollie was being rather vociferously uncooperative—enough to raise anybody's blood pressure—he saw the sense of this and agreed to a chaperone. Only one name would satisfy the inspector, however. Mariani insists on Laetitia! He will accept none other.”

  Harry looked for a moment at Gunning with speculation. “I say, William…not something going on there as shouldn't be, eh?”

  Gunning put on a knowing expression. “Let's hope there is, Harry. I must say—I had wondered myself…It could all work to our advantage, don't you think? Look, I'll fetch her out and you must mark her card. I shall insist on escorting her there—and back again. I'm damned if that young squirt is going to hold on to Letty as well.”

  Letty decided the inspector was already regretting his use of shock tactics by the time she presented herself at the police lockup down by the harbour. He looked subdued and hunted. He was pacing about by himself in an office and Ollie was sitting quietly in the adjoining cell, staring through the bars, looking, Letty thought, like Queen Victoria who has just detected a blocked drain in the Palace.

  Gunning waved a reassuring hand at her and she nodded in acknowledgement. He then, and largely for Olivia's reassurance, went into a very English speech, genial, disarmingly cooperative, setting out for Mariani his expectations and requirements. Mariani assured Gunning that his niece would be treated with the highest respect. To his credit, Gunning didn't twitch an eyebrow, let alone send a wounded look at Letty. It was acknowledged that her participation in the interview was deeply appreciated. Compliments were exchanged. One officer to another before they went over the top, Letty thought. They even checked their watches together. Satisfied that the ground rules were clear, he retreated with Harry to the Stoddart house to ply him with whisky.

  Mariani was pleased to see her. He rolled his eyes in a conspiratorial dismissal of the preceding flummery and got down to business. “Miss Talbot. So glad you could come and accompany your friend. Mrs. Stoddart has, I assure you, come along willingly to help me with my further enquiries into the death of Mrs. Russell.”

  An irritated “Pshaw!” from the cell cast some doubt on this.

  “She has not been arrested. My injured officer will not be pressing charges. It is important that I have her evidence and her account of her activities on that afternoon with reference to no other person—forgive me—including yourself. May I ask you to remain silent until I address you?”

  “Yes, of course,” Laetitia agreed, more puzzled by the minute. She sensed that Mariani was questioning his precipitate action but he must, she calculated, have had a good reason for it. If intimidating Ollie was part of his plan, it wasn't working and the inspector was going to have to salvage what he could.

  He went to the door of the cell and asked politely, “Would you mind letting us in, Mrs. Stoddart? We're ready to begin.”

  Olivia glared and pulled away the chair she'd wedged against the door.

  The women settled down opposite Mariani around a small table. Letty attempted to squeeze Olivia's hand encouragingly, but Olivia snatched it away.

  “Now, tedious, I know, but would you please go over the timing of your return from Knossos on the Sunday afternoon when Mrs. Russell was taken ill? Miss Talbot was with you on that occasion and has given her evidence.”

  “Ah!” thought Letty. “He's using me to keep Ollie on the straight and narrow path of truth. But then—why would she want to stray from it?”

  Olivia accounted for her movements until she had said good-bye to Laetitia on her doorstep. That would have been at about two o'clock and Letty would confirm this. Letty nodded. She then went to the kitchen to make a cup of tea and had a snooze in her arm-chair, as she usually did on a Sunday. Harry must have got back at some time, because the next thing she was conscious of was a messenger from the Russells shouting and bangin
g on about an accident at the house and demanding his instant attention.

  “Yes. I accept that you were on your doorstep at two o'clock—an estimated hour before Mrs. Russell died. It was a lively Sunday—a festival under way and many people and traders up from the country especially to join in,” said Mariani. Letty nodded again in agreement.

  “I and my officers joined the crowds at the same time today—a Sunday likewise—noting the traders and others who might have been there in the streets at the same time on the fateful day. So soon after the event, they had not forgotten what business they did, what clients they'd seen, strangers who'd passed. Miss Talbot was commented on and described by several. And so, Mrs. Stoddart, were you.”

  Olivia's cheeks, mottled red with indignation, began to lose their colour.

  “It took you, Miss Talbot, half an hour to return home to the Villa Europa, wandering as you did, past the boutiques along the busy avenue. It took my officer six and a half minutes following alleyways away from the crowds. But along these less used streets the inhabitants of the houses take a keener interest in passersby than the ones who live on a busy thoroughfare. They sit on their doorsteps and watch what little of the world goes by, go by. We traced your passage along several streets, all heading by the quickest and most secluded route to the Europa.”

  He flourished sheets of paper. “I have sworn statements if you care to see them. We start with Mr. Pappandreiou, who runs the bakery…”

  Olivia shrugged her indifference.

  “You reached the Villa Europa at two-fifteen, give or take a minute either way. You were seen not to approach the front door but to slip into the coach house alongside. From there, access to the rear courtyard and the open door of the library is available to all who choose to try. Mrs. Russell's bedroom is also accessible by means of an obliging wisteria, as has been ably demonstrated, I understand, by Miss Talbot's disabled uncle. We must assume therefore that any reasonably able-bodied and determined intruder could have taken the same route. I must ask you, Mrs. Stoddart: Why did you set off at once for the Europa and, having got there, did you enter the house? Having gained access, did you murder your friend Phoebe?”

  Letty broke her vow of silence. “I'm sure you're not obliged to answer those questions, Olivia. Your answers could be very incriminating. I advise you to keep quiet until you can summon a lawyer in the morning.”

  “Don't concern yourself, Laetitia! I don't need counsel. The truth will speak for itself.”

  Olivia couldn't have cared less what the inspector's opinion of her was, but Letty noticed she directed a defiant gaze sideways at her and she was troubled by it.

  “Pretty obvious, I'd have thought! Adultery not an entirely new concept on the island, Inspector? King Minos is reputed to have suffered similarly. I suspected that my husband was having an affair with Mrs. Russell and was determined to catch them out. In flagrante delicto if at all possible. In circumstances leaving no room for denial or argument. And who knows? If only Miss Talbot, here, had been able to cycle faster, I might have managed it!” she finished with a savage glance at Letty.

  Letty was aghast. The thought of Olivia leaping from the wisteria crying, “Aha! Unhand my husband!” or whatever people shout in these circumstances, was horrifying.

  “I felt the bonnet of the car. The engine had cooled. So—they hadn't, at least, stopped en route for a little hanky-panky, I calculated. They must be still up there in her room.” She paused, pleased with her insight and waiting for this to be acknowledged by the inspector. Mariani had the good grace to nod in understanding. “I went into the courtyard and listened under Phoebe's window. I knew where it was, of course—she called herself my friend—she'd treated me to the tour of her vast wardrobe, even generously selected a few items she thought might suit me.”

  The grating resentment in the older woman's voice was beginning to chill Letty.

  “I tell you this because, with your ear for backstairs gossip, Inspector, you will have little difficulty in establishing that I was familiar with the first-floor rooms.

  “There was no sound. I must say I felt very exposed there in the garden. Windows on all sides, it's hardly the place you'd choose to skulk unseen. Like being onstage. The tree was inviting and I would have given much to catch the treacherous harlot at her games, but I didn't. She betrayed me! I'm not sorry she's dead. But I didn't kill her. I went away the way I'd come.”

  “Tell me, Mrs. Stoddart, what brought about this change of heart?”

  “Not what—who! I was accosted in the courtyard—staring up at the window, assessing my chances—by that ruffian who seems to have appointed himself family guard dog. The big Cretan who's so close to George and William Gunning.”

  “Aristidis, you mean?” Letty broke her silence again.

  “That's the one! Lout! He came swaggering through the coach house, bold as brass, whistling, plonked himself down on the statue of Dionysos—whom he much resembles—in the middle of the courtyard, and lit a cigarette. Waiting to see Gunning and Miss Talbot, he said, when I challenged him. Business to discuss. Been waiting all morning. Then, having given an account of himself, it occurred to him to wonder what I was doing there. He's not stupid. And, as I say, loyal to the family. He became uneasy with my presence and escorted me off the premises, practically growling. What cheek! So—if you want further and better particulars, Inspector, you must interview your disreputable compatriot. If he's in a mood not to lie to the forces of law and order, he will tell you I left the villa at two thirty-five—or five cigarettes after the noon bell of St. Minas sounded.”

  Mariani made the mistake of catching Letty's eye and was ambushed by his Cretan sense of the ridiculous. His shoulders began to shake. He pulled out a handkerchief and spluttered into it. He pretended to take notes. He was lost for words.

  Letty sighed. “If I weren't already up to my ears in love, this man would be in some danger,” she thought. She decided to step into the gap. “Ollie! This is quite disgraceful behaviour! You should have confided in the inspector earlier. You have cost him a week's work. Really! You are much to blame. If I were you, I'd apologise to Inspector Mariani for wasting his time and injuring his officer, and then go straight home to Harry and beg his forgiveness.”

  A clamour at the door was seized upon by Mariani as his release. The inspector shot to his feet and went to open up. Stoddart bustled in, come to collect his wife. “Mr. Gunning's on his way, Laetitia,” he informed her as Olivia swept in glacial silence from the cell. “I say, would you like me to wait until he gets here?” he asked, casting a reproving look at the inspector.

  Letty made a show of getting to her feet and collecting her things together, declining his offer. Kind but quite unnecessary.

  As soon as the Stoddarts had left, Letty sat down again and began to speak urgently. “I was trying to find you for most of the afternoon! I thought I wasn't going to be able to see you before tomorrow. Listen! I've found out a thing or two—bribery still works well, I discover, in the Levant! I'm just surprised you weren't called on to come and arrest me at the port this afternoon! One official got quite suspicious. Anyway—there are things that simply ought to be clarified. And I think you're the man who can do this. I've got as far as I can without a quantity of gold braid on my shoulder. You will have to take it further. Now…”

  Gunning arrived to find them sitting in the cell, heads together, still deep in conversation. “I trust my niece has behaved herself,” he drawled sarcastically.

  “Impeccably as always.” Mariani was gracious. “A fruitful interview…which exculpates Mrs. Stoddart from any involvement and sets me on another trail.”

  “Another trail?” said Gunning as they made their way back to the Europa. “Now who's he got in his sights?”

  “Aristidis! Ollie found him loitering—or rather he caught her, loitering with intent—in the courtyard at the crucial time. He may have seen something. Those eagle eyes of his don't miss much. He was quickly onto Ollie and saw her off the pr
emises. But at least his word should cancel out any remaining suspicion of Olivia's involvement.”

  “Thank God for that! Was she intending to do bodily harm to Phoebe and/or Harry or just scare them to death, I wonder?”

  “Hard to say. She probably didn't even know herself. But she has a terrible temper. Remember the mess in Harry's surgery? And people do extraordinary things for love. She was in love with her, you know. In love with Phoebe.”

  “I had guessed as much,” said Gunning quietly. “Poor old Ollie!”

  “Poor old Harry!”

  Do you know—I've never viewed the scene of the crime—if crime it was—from the courtyard,” said Letty as they approached the Europa. “It's not quite dark yet and the rooms are ablaze with light. Shall we?”

  “You're just determined to lure me off somewhere secluded.” “Well, yes, I'm sure you're dying to get back to the party, but I thought I'd try for just a little longer by ourselves. Hold your hand. So often wanted to. Let's not go back inside, just yet?”

  They made their way through the coach house, where nothing but a patch of oil marked the place where the Bugatti had gleamed. Theodore's modest Ford took up very little space at the far end. They tiptoed through the fusty darkness, steering by the moon showing through the fanlight over the side door, and let themselves out into the lemon-scented garden.