The Bull of Mithros
Page 27
‘Bad ends, good ends, they’re endings, all the same.’ Uncle Vasso drained his glass. ‘Are you done with me?’
‘Not quite,’ said the fat man. ‘There have been many mentions of strangers, since I’ve been here. Most are accounted for. I was told up near the museum a stranger had been seen, but that was my man Ilias, taking the bull on my behalf. I have made him practise, and he picks a lock as cleanly now as I do myself. Then at Kolona, two soldiers heard strange things in the night. One I think was Milto, comforting the soul of his dead father. The other was Gounaris, who’d lost the chain his mother gave him, going to your nephew’s room to steal it back. But the stranger you saw – how do we account for him?’
Uncle Vasso laughed.
‘There was no stranger, of course. That was a mere decoy for the captain. He headed in one direction, we went in the other. I’m sure you can see it would have complicated matters, if they’d returned to camp at the wrong time.’
‘And now your nephew’s gone, do you feel a free man?’
Uncle Vasso’s expression was philosophical.
‘Do you know,’ he said, ‘I don’t. I rejoice that he’s gone; but he has friends, or what pass for friends in those circles. In time, they’ll come looking for him, and they’ll find me. No. I’m not free.’
‘No, you are not,’ said the fat man. ‘There will be further retribution, worse than before. And now you’ve put the lives of previously innocent men at risk. Tell me, what happened to your last bullet? Wasn’t it foolish to use what might save you?’
‘It was needed. A donkey, beyond help. I put it out of its misery.’
‘You did the right thing. And you can help those others you have led into danger by doing the right thing now. They did not betray you, but I know they did not think they were helping in an act of murder, only of punishment which they believed justified. Now they carry a great weight on their consciences, and I have told them their lives are under threat. For a time, it’s appropriate they believe that; they should suffer for the wrong they have done. But because murder was not their intention, if you will do the right thing, you may buy them a lessening of their burden, in due course. If you do the right thing, I will let it be known in the right quarters that you have done so, and your accomplices’ lives will not be at risk, despite what they believe. When I feel the time is right, I shall let them know – either by coming here myself, or by getting word to them – that the danger is past. All they will have to wrestle with then is their memories and their consciences – lessons that must be learned by anyone who takes matters that are not theirs to judge into their own hands.’
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a matchbox. He placed it in front of Uncle Vasso.
‘Another gift,’ he said, ‘to help in your decision.’ He stood to go. ‘I have not asked you one crucial question. What is your nephew’s real name? Whatever wrong he has done, he deserves to have his relatives claim him and bury him in his home soil.’
Uncle Vasso shook his head.
‘That will be my final revenge on him,’ he said, ‘and I will never tell. If you want to know his name, you must find out for yourself.’
When the fat man had left, Uncle Vasso smoked another cigar, and gazed out into the night. The matchbox lay beside him on the table.
Lemonia came and stood behind his chair, and kissed the top of his head. He took her hand, and kissed it.
‘I’m going to bed,’ she said. ‘Don’t be too late.’
When she had left him, he slid the matchbox open.
It contained a single bullet.
Nineteen
At dawn, the firing of Aphrodite’s engines disturbed the peace of the bay. The chains rattled as her anchors were raised, and she executed a slow turn to point her prow to the east, and a rosy horizon.
As she motored towards the first sunlight, a single shot rang out.
As daylight filled the bedroom, Olympia read Philipas’s letter again, though there was no need; the words were few, and memorised. Turning out the lamp which had burned all night, she wondered whether a ring would suit her finger.
There had been little pain, and the sick woman’s face was peaceful, almost smiling. When finally her breathing stopped, Olympia released her hand.
She tucked the letter inside her dress, and slid open the dresser drawer to find the clothes the woman had chosen as her last. Over the body, a fly buzzed.
Olympia went to find the neighbour, to tell her to have them ring the passing bell.
Along the island’s east coast, where the fat man had been swimming, Nondas was hauling up nets he had laid the previous evening. Drawing them in hand over hand, the nets were heavy; he was optimistic of a good catch, hoping to emulate the luck he’d had with the snapper two days before.
Towards the skyline, Aphrodite passed; the figure leaning on the deck-rail waved a hand in farewell, but was unseen.
There was no wriggle in the nets, no struggle, only weight; and as he hauled them in, dripping and stinking of the fishy depths, Nondas saw why.
At first, he cursed, thinking he had landed a boulder, some worthless stone. But as he unwrapped the object from the nets, he saw, despite the corally growths and weeds which covered it, the stone had a form created by human hand; and when freed from the mesh, though long submerged, the object’s beauty was clear to see: an ancient statue of a leaping dolphin, fighting to break free from the sea.
Acknowledgements
For their enthusiastic and diligent help in the choosing of suitable firearms, my thanks to Myles Allfrey, and author Zoë Sharp.
For her kind sharing of Greek family recipes, thank you to Angela Demetriades Schwartz.
And once again, many thanks to John Gilkes for his cartographic skills.
A Note on the Author
Anne Zouroudi was born in England and has lived in the Greek Islands. Her attachment to Greece remains strong, and the country is the inspiration for much of her writing. She now lives in the Derbyshire Peak District with her son. She is the author of five Mysteries of the Greek Detective: The Messenger of Athens (shortlisted for the ITV3 Crime Thriller Award for Breakthrough Authors and longlisted for the Desmond Elliot Prize), The Taint of Midas, The Doctor of Thessaly, The Lady of Sorrows and The Whispers of Nemesis.
By the Same Author
The Messenger of Athens
The Taint of Midas
The Doctor of Thessaly
The Lady of Sorrows
The Whispers of Nemesis
Also available by Anne Zouroudi
The Messenger of Athens
Shortlisted for the ITV 3 Crime Thriller Awards
When the battered body of a young woman is discovered on a remote Greek island, the local police are quick to dismiss her death as an accident. Then a stranger arrives, uninvited, from Athens, announcing his intention to investigate further. His name is Hermes Diaktoros, his methods are unorthodox, and he brings his own mystery into the web of dark secrets and lies. Who has sent him, on whose authority is he acting, and how does he know of dramas played out decades ago?
‘Powerfully atmospheric … Zouroudi proves a natural at the dark arts of writing Euro-crime’
Independent
The Taint of Midas
For over half a century the beautiful Temple of Apollo has been in the care of the old beekeeper Gabrilis. But when the value of the land soars he is forced to sign away his interests – and hours later he meets a violent, lonely death. When Hermes Diaktoros finds his friend’s battered body by a dusty roadside, the police quickly make him the prime suspect. But with rapacious developers threatening Arcadia’s most ancient sites, there are many who stand to gain from Gabrilis’s death. Hermes resolves to avenge his old friend and find the true culprit, but his investigative methods are, as ever, unorthodox …
‘More transported Agatha Christie here ... Hermes is a delight. Half Poirot, half deus ex machina, but far more earth-bound than his first name suggests ... A cracking plot, colourful loc
al characters and descriptions of the hot, dry countryside so strong that you can almost see the heat haze and hear the cicadas – the perfect read to curl up with’ Guardian
The Doctor of Thessaly
A jilted bride weeps on an empty beach, a local doctor is attacked in an isolated churchyard – trouble has come at a bad time to Morfi, just as the backwater village is making headlines with a visit from a government minister. Fortunately, where there’s trouble there’s Hermes Diaktoros, the mysterious fat man whose tennis shoes are always pristine and whose methods are always unorthodox. Hermes must solve a brutal crime, thwart the petty machinations of the town’s ex-mayor and pour oil on the troubled waters of a sisters’ relationship – but how can he solve a mystery that not even the victim wants to be solved?
‘If you don’t find yourself in Greece this summer, then Zouroudi’s latest mystery brings the Hellenic vibe tantalisingly close … Once again Hermes Diaktoros – a reassuringly earthbound investigator – finds himself dealing with a chorus of colourful locals’ Independent
The Lady of Sorrows
A painter is found dead at sea off the coast of a remote Greek island. For our enigmatic detective Hermes Diaktoros, the plot can only thicken: the painter’s work, an icon of the Virgin long famed for its miraculous powers, has just been uncovered as a fake. But has the painter died of natural causes or by a wrathful hand? What secret is a dishonest gypsy keeping? And what haunts the ancient catacombs beneath the bishop’s house?
‘Anne Zouroudi writes beautifully – her books have all the sparkle and light of the island landscapes in which she sets them. The Lady of Sorrows, her latest, is a gorgeous treat’ Alexander McCall Smith
The Whispers of Nemesis
As winter snow falls on the tiny village of Vrisi, a coffin is unearthed and broken open. But the remains inside have undergone a macabre transformation, news of which spreads through the village like forest fire. Then, by the shrine of St Fanourios, a body is found, buried under the fallen snow. There’s talk of witchcraft and the devil’s work – but the truth may be far stranger than the villagers’ wildest imaginings. Hermes Diaktoros, drawn to the mountains by a wish to see an old and dear friend, finds himself embroiled in the mysteries of Vrisi, as well as the enigmatic last will and testament of Greece’s most admired modern poet.
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First published in Great Britain 2012
This electronic edition published in 2012 by Bloomsbury Publishing Plc
Copyright © 2012 by Anne Zouroudi
Map © 2012 by John Gilkes
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