Rounding the next-to-last turn before reaching the top, I looked up ahead and saw Brittany. She was on her cell phone. “Oh, no,” I said to Sophie. “She’s telling her boyfriend we’re onto them.”
* * * * *
Villas hopped out of his cable car as soon as its automatic door swung open. All the cars in the six-car cluster opened simultaneously, and all their passengers stepped out onto stairs leading up and out into the town. Since both Segal and Endicott were in cars ahead of his, he expected to simply follow them out but, from there, they’d probably head off in different directions and he’d have a decision to make.
But as soon as Segal and his big suitcase hit the stairs, he bolted, taking the stairs two at a time. When Endicott stepped out, he glanced briefly down toward the car on the end, and then took off, pushing the other off-loading passengers aside as he flew up the stairs and around a corner.
* * * * *
“Brittany, we have a bunch of men out looking for your boyfriend,” I said, “so why don’t you make things easier for both of you? Tell me where he is, and we can wrap this thing up.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
We found a taverna with outdoor seating near the top of the donkey path, where it widened out into a small plaza. I set the krater under one of its tables so Sophie could guard it with her legs while she sat and ordered a drink. Meanwhile, keeping Brittany with me, I turned in the three donkeys. “Your boyfriend, Rob Segal. We know he’s here on the island and he has the amphora from the ship with him.”
“Oh, that’s right. You know all about my love life from snooping through my room, don’t you?”
“I wouldn’t have known what your boyfriend looked like, though. For that, we needed Captain Quattrocchi of the Italian Carabinieri, who spotted him and recognized him as an international antiquities smuggler. Small world, isn’t it?” I patted my dear little donkey friend on the neck and thanked him for his help.
“Hey, maybe he’s the one who planted George Gaskill’s watch in my room. Or could that have been you?” Brittany’s cute little turned-up nose turned up a bit higher.
“Not me.”
I looked over Brittany’s shoulder and glimpsed Kathryn Gaskill hurrying by, now on foot. There was something odd about the way she hurried by. She had no reason not to say hi to me and she couldn’t have failed to see me standing there. No reason unless she knew I was onto her. But how could she know that? Her walk was a little too casual, though, and her head turned a little too much toward a perfectly ordinary stone wall. She sped up just a tiny bit after she passed me, and I knew. I knew she knew.
I had to catch her.
Could I leave Brittany in Sophie’s care? I thought not. Sophie, with only one usable arm, had enough to do guarding the krater. Brittany might even be of some help to me. “Look, Brittany. You and your boyfriend are caught. There’s nothing you can do about that. We’ve got four big, beefy men on his trail, but I need to catch Kathryn Gaskill, who is currently heading down the alley ahead of us, and I need to find the man who’s going by the name of Nigel Endicott. If you help me, I’m pretty sure I can get you off the hook in the Gaskill murder. Are you interested?”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’ll explain later. Come on.” Kathryn had considerately worn an orange shirt today so tracking her would be easy. If I could keep her from finding out we were following her, I knew she would lead us to Endicott. “Stay back. We don’t want Kathryn to know we’re after her.”
At the end of the alley, Kathryn turned onto a narrow street lined with shops. I stayed well back, pretending to window-shop whenever Kathryn, about a block ahead of us, did likewise. People walking in both directions, stopping, chatting, kids darting in and out, made for enough confusion between us and Kathryn that I didn’t think she’d spot us unless she was looking for us. She slipped into a jewelry store.
Brittany and I waited at the window of a leather goods shop for Kathryn to reappear.
“Now, can you explain what this is all about?” Brittany asked.
“Let’s just say I’ve reason to believe George Gaskill wasn’t murdered at all, and if he wasn’t murdered, you can’t be charged with murdering him.”
Kathryn reappeared and crossed to the other side of the street, but she glanced ever so quickly in our direction, then turned, heading up the street away from us. Had she spotted us? Did she know we were behind her when she went into the store? I looked around to make sure Brittany was still with me, and collided with a baby in a stroller. I apologized to the mother, cooed something to the baby, who looked startled but unharmed, and resumed my pursuit.
In that short time, no more than an instant, Kathryn had disappeared.
“Where did she go?”
But Brittany was exchanging admiring glances with a couple of continental-type hunks lounging suavely outside a sweet shop. She shrugged and said, “Who? Oh! I don’t know. I missed it.”
In this little cliffside town, every street no wider than an alley, every alley running either uphill or down, every slope offset by jutting buildings and overhanging terraces spilling bougainvillea over their sides, a person could get lost in five seconds. My only chance was to keep moving forward and look for orange shirts. We went up a street and down a winding alley, down a spiral stairway, across a tiny plaza, and up another street. At the next intersection, salvation!
“Dotsy! Yoo-hoo!” Lettie called from up ahead.
Dragging Brittany by the arm, I ran to Lettie, keeping an eye on Ollie’s bald head sticking up above the crowd. “Kathryn Gaskill. Have you seen her?” I spluttered out between gasps.
“Hello, Brittany,” Ollie said, smiling. Just like a man, to ignore my desperate plea and smile at the pretty girl.
Dear, observant Lettie came through for me. “Kathryn? She went that-a-way.” Lettie pointed up a long, winding alley on my right. “She went into the last door up there on the left-hand side.”
It turned out to be a restaurant. Lettie was certain this was where Kathryn had gone, but I could see a maître d’ lurking, menus in hand, inside the door. This wasn’t the sort of place where they’d let you come in and look around. They’d expect you to eat. “Anybody hungry?” I asked. “I’m about to die of thirst. Who’d like to buy me a drink? I’m temporarily embarrassed by a shortage of funds.” Put that way, they could hardly refuse.
The maître d’ had no trouble finding us a table for four, as there were few patrons. I looked around for Kathryn but she wasn’t there. There was, however, a table set for one with a small bowl of tsatziki and chips and one glass of water, and it was vacant. A napkin lay across the seat of a chair that had been pulled back recently because it was in the waiter’s way. He pushed the chair forward and laid the napkin on the tablecloth as he walked by.
He explained the menu to us and took our orders for water, beer, and coffee.
“Lettie, I think Kathryn’s in the bathroom,” I said. “I’m going to check.” The ladies’ room was down a short hall that also led to the kitchen and to a back entrance. I opened the bathroom door and peeked in. Mirror, sink, towel dispenser, two rather nice marble-slab stalls, a vase of fresh flowers on the vanity. No Kathryn. “Damn!” I said out loud. I looked under the stall doors and saw one pair of feet but they couldn’t have been Kathryn’s because they were shod in red platform wedgies.
I stood on tiptoes and peered out the window over the towel dispenser. Outside, a tiny alley with garbage cans and a couple of cats. No Kathryn. “Damn, damn, damn!”
A toilet flushed, the stall door opened, and a delicate little lavender-scented woman stepped out. “Are you looking for someone?” She asked, in a voice I pegged as coming from Boston. “I couldn’t help hearing your damns.”
“I’m looking for a friend of mine. She’s short with dark hair and she’s wearing an orange shirt. I thought she came in here.”
“She’s gone to the Archaeology Museum. The one near the cable car.”
&nb
sp; I could only stare at her.
The woman laughed and dodged around me to the sink. “She was here a minute ago, when I came in. She was on the phone, and I heard her say, ‘How am I supposed to find the Archaeology Museum?’ and ‘Across from the cable car exit?’ Whoever was on the other end apparently explained how to find it and she dashed out.”
“Thank you so much,” I said. “I don’t know how anybody ever finds anything in this place. So confusing.” Back in the hallway, I slipped down to the other end and opened the door onto the alley. It wasn’t locked, so Kathryn could have gone out this way instead of returning to her table. I knew she hadn’t gone out the front door and now, it would seem, she had seen us, called Endicott, and split.
Back at our table, I caught Brittany trying to make a phone call. She looked up, saw me, and meekly closed the little device. Obviously, she’d been trying to call Segal. I chided myself for not warning Ollie and Lettie of that possibility before I went to the ladies’ room. When I explained what I’d learned in the bathroom, Ollie cancelled his sandwich order and paid for the drinks. Meanwhile, I grabbed Brittany by the wrist, gave her my most intimidating motherly glare, and said, “The Archaeology Museum by the cable car station. We need to get there fast, and you’d better lead us straight to it. No detours, no phone calls. Do you think you can handle that?”
* * * * *
Dashing out of the cable car station, Luc Girard and Marco heard Villas call to them from somewhere above their heads. They spied him, standing at the rail of a hotel terrace on top of a cliff north of the cable, from which vantage point he commanded a wide view. They located a winding stairway that led up to the terrace and joined the frustrated policeman from Mykonos now charged with the responsibility of following two men who, unfortunately, had run off in different directions. Of the three, only Girard was familiar with the layout of the town. Villas pointed out the directions he thought his quarry had fled—Segal to the east, roughly the direction of main square, Endicott to the north. “I don’t know why either man ran. Why did Endicott run away? He’s used to being followed. And why did the other man run? He doesn’t even know who I am.”
“Segal is probably headed for the bus station or the taxi stand,” Girard said. “I don’t know where Endicott is, but since you’re supposed to be following him, I’d suggest you go north. Marco and I will try to find Segal. I know the layout of the town and Marco knows what Segal looks like.”
Villas said, “You can’t miss him even if you don’t know his face. He’s carrying a huge black case.”
“Let us exchange our phone numbers,” Marco suggested. Until then, Marco and Girard had had no reason to get each other’s numbers, or Villas’s. All three men added two new numbers to their respective phones. “Yes. Why did Segal run? How could he have found out we were after him?”
* * * * *
The Archaeology Museum charged a three euro admission, which Ollie had to pay for all four of us. Inside, we split up. It would be easy for us to check out the whole place, I thought, because it was a small building. I described Kathryn and Nigel to the woman at the front desk and learned the woman with the orange shirt had, indeed, come in a few minutes earlier. A man, not unlike my description of Nigel, had come in earlier but he might or might not have left already. She couldn’t remember.
Taking my captive, Brittany, along with me, I made a sort of counter-clockwise circuit of the rooms while Ollie went the other way and Lettie stayed near the front door. There was no way Kathryn Gaskill could escape me now. But I ran into Ollie before I ran into Kathryn.
“Where can she be? She can’t possibly have left,” I said. “I know! The bathroom.” I located the ladies’ room, positive for the second time in less than a half-hour that I was about to face Kathryn Gaskill in the loo, but the loo was vacant. I moped back out, shaking my head.
Ollie said, “I’ll bet she’s in the men’s room,” and turned, heading for the door with the masculine icon. He walked in but held the door open while he checked around. Turning back to Brittany and me, he raised one finger to his lips and motioned for us to follow him in.
A urinal along one wall, a stall beside it, and a sink beside that. It appeared the room was empty, but Ollie pointed to the gap between the stall and the floor. I saw two feet wearing men’s shoes, but rather than toes pointing toward the door, they were pointed in the opposite direction.
Ollie craned his neck to peer over the top of the door and said, “Mr. Endicott, I presume. And Mrs. Gaskill! Fancy meeting you here.”
Nigel and Kathryn tried to bolt but, as soon as they saw Brittany and me, they were drawn up short. Ollie had both of them firmly by the collar.
Chapter Twenty-eight
To the east the land beneath the town of Fira rose, then crested at a broad, paved road running north–south and roughly dividing the tourist part of town from the part where the real people lived. Marco followed Luc Girard up dozens of steps. They stopped to catch their breath when they reached the top. Down the road to the right, they could see a white sugar-cube building with a sign on top that said TAXI in English, with the Greek equivalent in smaller letters.
“The bus station is beyond the taxi place,” said Luc. From where they stood, the tops of two buses could be seen above the roof of the TAXI. “There is a bus that runs south, to the airport and to Akrotiri, every hour during the day. If Segal has taken a taxi, he may have already left, but if he’s waiting for a bus, we may still catch him.”
“What about Brittany? We know they were not together when he came up in the cable car. I think they will have to find each other before either of them goes anywhere. They may be planning to meet at the bus station.”
“Good point. Let’s go.”
“Wait!” Marco threw up both hands, like a traffic cop. “What will we do with him, or them, when we find them?”
“Arrest them.”
“We cannot do that. First of all, we do not have a warrant. Second, I do not have any authority in Santorini and neither do you. You are an archaeologist. Third, we do not have any handcuffs.”
“I see,” said Luc, stroking his goatee. “We could ask the local police to help us. Their station is somewhere nearby, I believe.”
“The Fira police cannot arrest them. There is no warrant, no extradition papers, and they have not violated any local laws. They have stolen artifacts off a cruise ship that is owned by people from God knows where.”
“Call Bondurant. Ask him what he suggests.”
Marco called the number Bondurant had given him. “I am hearing the engaged signal. He is talking to someone.” He rang off, stuffed his hands in his shorts pockets, and rocked back on his heels. “Come.” He headed down the road toward the bus station but stopped well shy of it. There was no indoor waiting room here, only a small information kiosk and a few trees under which passengers could wait. There, on a bench beside the kiosk, sat a blond man. Beside him lay a big black case.
Marco grabbed Luc by the arm. “Wait a minute. I have an idea.”
* * * * *
Officer Villas was on the phone with Bondurant.
“I was looking for Endicott in the north part of town when he passed me going south. He hasn’t spotted me yet, but he sort of sneaked around past the cable car entrance and now he’s gone into the Archaeology Museum.”
“Very good. I suggest you stay with him now. Try to find out why he bolted like that. I’m on my way up the hill right now, so if you hear from Girard or Quattrocchi, tell them to call me.”
“Right, sir.”
“Seen Brittany Benson yet?”
“No, I haven’t. Oh, there is an admission charge for the museum. I hope I have enough money to get in.”
“Flash your badge, man!” Bondurant said with a deep sigh.
* * * * *
Luc walked casually up to the bench where Rob Segal sat and said, “Going to the airport?”
Rather than giving an answer, Segal looked up at him and squinted into the sun as if to s
ay, “What’s it to you?”
“I ask that because it’s where I need to go and I just heard the next bus will not run. It’ll be an hour before the next one.”
Segal exhaled loudly. “Well, that’s fine!” His accent was American. “I have a five o’clock flight and it’s—what?—two-thirty already.”
Luc pushed at the black case with his foot. “The last time I saw a man traveling with a suitcase that big, it turned out he had a mummy in it. You have a mummy in there?”
Segal shifted the case away from Luc’s foot and glared at him. “No.”
Luc bent as if he were preparing to sit on the case.
Segal shifted his body and patted the bench beside him. “Have a seat.”
“Well, I think I’m going to take a cab to the airport. Costs more than the bus, but I hate the thought of waiting here for another hour.” He turned toward the road behind him. “I don’t know why they’ve canceled the bus, but I’d bet it has something to do with the smuggler they’re after.”
Segal’s pale face flushed crimson. “What smuggler?”
“No idea. I walked by the police station on my way over here and there were a half-dozen cops out front. I heard them say something about a man trying to smuggle a pot out of the country.” He waited for that to sink in. “Interested in sharing a ride to the airport?”
“Right. I don’t feel like waiting here any longer, either. Not with a five o’clock flight.” Segal grabbed the case and headed toward the taxi stand.
On the opposite side of the road, a man in a black cap stood behind a cab. He was reading a newspaper. He looked up as Segal and Girard crossed the bus station parking area and shouted, “Taxi? You want to go to airport? Ten euros, I take you to airport!”
“Right.”
The man in the black cap popped open the trunk by using the remote on his key ring, and grabbed Segal’s case. At the same time, he opened one of the back doors and said, “Hop in.”
Segal climbed into the back seat, which was separated from the front by a Plexiglas partition, and Girard, rather than climbing in behind him, slammed the door. The man in the black hat clicked all the doors locked, removed his hat, and peeked into the back seat at a dumbfounded Rob Segal.
Death of an Aegean Queen Page 23
