1 The Assassins' Village

by Faith Mortimer

  ‘We fail! But screw up your courage to the sticking place, And we’ll not fail.’

  Yanoulla knew she had plenty of courage. She’d already murdered and buried one man she’d lived with.

  ~~~

  And now Kristiakis, was dead too. He was found swinging in the old bakery barn. His neck a bloody mess from the fine rope around it. Strange how, looking at his body, dishevelled and broken, it no longer held her in thrall.

  Chapter 38. Friends?

  What is the night? Almost at odds with morning, which is which.

  Macbeth. Act 3 Scene 4

  The sun was setting, plunging down behind the dry hills, a golden shawl spreading like molten treacle over the tips. A cool south-westerly breeze swept up the valleys from the coast. The inhabitants of the mountain villages closed their eyes in relief at this respite from the heat.

  A few friends were gathered on Steve and Di’s flat roof for sundowners. The stresses and strains of the past few days were showing in their eyes and faces. At first their talk was desultory and typically British.

  ‘I do hope we have some heavy rain this winter as the island really needs it,’ Jen said standing and watching the sun’s disappearing rays. ‘Oh! Thank you, Steve.’ She turned to accept a refill to her white wine spritzer with a smile. Like the rest of them she thought she’d been drinking too much these past few days and had asked for a spritzer. ‘A spritzer only counts as half a drink surely?’ she’d said ten minutes ago.

  ‘We certainly do. The dams are all but empty and it’s costing the government, and by that I mean us a fortune buying water from Greece,’ Steve replied as he looked round the gathered company for any other glasses that needed freshening. ‘And we all know how greedy they can be.’

  ‘Well the country has huge money problems. I don’t see why we can’t accept Turkey’s offer. They’ve got gallons of the stuff. A simple pipeline from the mainland, it’s barely a short hop away,’ injected Bernard as he helped himself to a handful of cashews.

  ‘Politics, Bernard. You know that. We’ve gone over all this before,’ said Ann joining in.

  ‘Bugger politics. It’d make perfect logical sense. They’ve got it, we need it. It’s as simple as that. It would probably make relations better with them in the long run too,’ he replied, a caustic note entering his voice. ‘I like the Turkish Cypriots, and their food is bloody good too.’

  They all laughed at Bernard and his fondness for food.

  ‘Oh no, there’s more to it than that. You remember when it was first mooted. The Greek Cypriots complained that the northern Turkish Cypriots were going to get more water from the deal than those in the south. As if that made any difference! So long as everyone got enough fresh water what does it matter?’ she replied frowning at her husband, who was accepting his fourth glass of red wine.

  ‘Ah. But what about the politicians, eh? They probably have a theory that the Turks would put poison in their water supply. We all know how paranoid they are of anything Turkish!’ Steve laughed. ‘Anyway, that’s enough of that. I really don’t want to spoil our evening by talking about bloody politicians.

  ‘Hear, hear!’ Jen took a sip and raised her glass. ‘Cheers to that.’

  Everyone joined her.

  Di took a look around at the company of people they called their friends. It felt good to enjoy a drink or two. It was important to carry on and pick up the pieces of their usual everyday lives. All of them were wishing the police would finally put together all the clues and facts. Despite feeling sorry for the two dead men and also for Sonja now left on her own, they needed to get back to some sort of normality. They had tried to carry on, getting on with their careers, helping out with their charity work or indulging their pastimes. But most of it had been sporadic, shelved until the time when they could stop looking over their shoulders and breathe more easily.

  ‘I think we all needed this. A get together I mean. After all that’s happened lately. I’m only sorry Sonja didn’t feel up to joining us tonight. I did go round to see her but she wouldn’t come. I know everyone here understands how she’s feeling, but it might have done her some good to realise that we’re all thinking of her and that we do in fact care.’

  They all nodded, one or two voicing their own comments. They too had tried making contact with her but she was very reticent and adamant that she wanted to be on her own. Offers of help and invitations to supper were all turned down. She needed to be by herself spending her time reflecting on what she was going to do with her life.

  ‘Has anyone spoken to Yanoulla? She must be feeling pretty ghastly too. Kristiakis was the love of her life,’ queried Ann as she looked round at the company.

  Diana nodded. ‘Yes I have. I spoke to her this morning in the car park. She didn’t say a lot and looked grim. She said she was going to go and stay with a cousin in Limassol for a few days. I have her mobile number if we need her.’ She looked thoughtful.

  ‘I heard you visited Alicia? How was she?’ Pete asked, pausing in his task of passing round a plateful of savoury canapés.

  ‘Um. A bit thinner than usual and she looks like she’s aged, apart from looking weary and upset.’ Diana suddenly decided she didn’t want to answer any more questions. She felt weary and upset herself. Nonetheless, she knew the talk would largely feature on the two deaths.

  ‘She still maintains she left Leslie alive. She was furious with him and wanted to teach him a lesson.’ A thought occurred to Di as she let the conversation carry on around her. Why was Alicia so furious with Leslie? What had he done? Was this all to do with his little black book?

  ‘Huh! By leaving him with a broken leg? Some lesson,’ said Ann joining in.

  ‘I’m not sure that the police can’t have her for that alone,’ Bernard mused.

  ‘That’s exactly what I said to Di when she returned home after seeing her. And with Kristiakis now dead, it looks like he’s out of the picture. Or maybe the killer wants us to think that Kristiakis did do it and then killed himself in a fit of guilt.’

  There were a few oohs! and aahs! As this little bit of information filtered through. Nobody had thought of that. It was all getting very tangled.

  ‘Going back to Sonja, I did see her myself today,’ Ann said. ‘I don’t think she was particularly keen to see me, but I had to do my bit and see that she was all right. You know coping with everything. One thing I did learn was that her step-son Thomas has visited her and thrown her into a bit of a quandary.’

  ‘Oh and why is that?’ Diana’s ears pricked up at this latest bit of news.

  ‘Well, surprisingly enough, once she started talking she couldn’t seem to stop. It was a bit like a train letting off steam. She said Leslie had left everything except their new house to his two children. Sonja will have the house and nothing else. Leslie changed his will a month or so ago.’

  There was a little silence while everyone digested this information.

  Jen finally spoke. ‘But, he hardly ever saw them. I mean, it’s good that he did that, but I wonder why he changed it.’

  ‘I don’t know, guilt perhaps? All Sonja said, is that she would have seen them right in the event of his natural death. She says they’ve always misunderstood her. They call her ‘Leslie’s witch’, but she doesn’t hate them. She’d just always ignored them as she doesn’t like or feel comfortable with children in any way. She never wanted children of her own and the question of having them never arose. Leslie had had a vasectomy as soon as his children were born.’

  There were a few raised eyebrows over this revelation. Most of those present had known Sonja and Leslie for years and she’d never mentioned being misunderstood before, or that Leslie had been sterilised.

  ‘Well, it’s none of our business, who gets his money,’ Pete said.

  ‘Lucky for some he had some to leave to his heirs,’ Bernard replied with some bitterness as if recalling his unfortunate past dealings with Leslie. Everyone present knew about Bernard and Jen’s mishap over Leslie’s money
deal and his remark obviously left one or two feeling awkward as they shifted uncomfortably in their seats.

  Diana decided she had heard enough. Despite her earlier findings, almost nobody who knew Leslie had a watertight alibi. She didn’t want to reveal anything of what she’d recently learned. She certainly wasn’t going to tell anyone that Leslie’s book of secrets was in her safe-keeping. Nor what she and Steve suspected about Alicia’s clothing, or about the terrible lacerations around both Leslie’s and Kristiakis’ necks.

  When Kristiakis had been found dead and she and Steve had rushed out to see for themselves, one thing had stood out.

  No one else apart from she, Steve, the police and the murderer knew that both these two men had died from what looked like a vicious knifing. Despite the rope around Kristiakis’ neck, it was not this that killed him. At first glance it appeared the rope had cut cruelly into his flesh during asphyxiation. In fact the murderer had covered the real cause of death with a post mortem hanging.

  Like Leslie, Kristiakis had been killed by the severance of his carotid artery. This was a cut-throat murderer.

  Chapter 39. Assassins all? Back to Sunday 29th

  By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes.

  Macbeth. Act 4 Scene 1

  When he was violently pushed towards the cliff edge by Alicia back on that fateful Sunday, Leslie had tried in vain to maintain his balance. Feeling the earth crumble beneath his feet as the edge of the precipice began to give away, Leslie reached out to clasp her arms. But Alicia stepped back and his arms wind-milled in vain as he toppled over the rim. Falling, Leslie gave a yelp of fright, which turned into a panicked scream as he crashed through scrub bushes that tore at his flesh. Finally he had hit the bottom.

  A pain so acute, shot up his left leg and into his spine. A groan escaped his torn lips and at first he wasn’t aware of what had happened. As the mist receded, he discovered he was lying on the ground. He made a movement and the terrible hurt once more shot through him, causing him to retch with nausea. The back of his head felt sticky and he discovered warm blood trickling down his neck. The throbbing in his tongue was where he’d bitten through it. Moving tentatively, and risking a glance, he saw by the odd positioning of his left leg that it was broken. He couldn’t move. Not without help. The agonising pain washed over him in waves and he shivered with shock. He knew that to stay alive, he had to somehow remain awake. He turned his head and let his eyes focus on his surroundings.

  He heard a noise; a voice calling his name. Dimly he recalled that he had been with someone, but couldn’t remember who or even where he was. The voice called again. A woman! Alicia! Weak and feeble, he tried to answer, to let her know he was alive.

  ‘Alicia. I-I can’t move my leg.’ He waited for some response and receiving none, summoned up more energy to try again. ‘Alicia! Over here.’

  ‘Hang on I’ll come down!’

  For what seemed like hours he waited, until a faint scrabbling in the surrounding bushes let him know that she had at last reached him. The surge of relief slipped away as the darkness engulfed him.

  ‘Leslie! Look at me! Are you awake? Where’s your memoir book? I want it before I help you. Wake up!’

  ~~~

  The unconscious Leslie was deathly quiet. Alicia began a desperate search for the object of her chase. Still smarting over what he’d said, she’d find the book first, and then decide what to do. There was no way she was going to give him any assistance. Not ever. His cruel words had sealed his fate.

  ~~~

  Tony had witnessed the whole act with open-mouthed wonder. When Leslie had toppled over the cliff Tony felt a tremor of excitement go through him and he could hardly contain himself as he followed Alicia’s moves down to the bottom of the cliff face. His bowels felt as if they would give way at any moment. Waiting, skulking on the top of the overhang, he could no longer hear Leslie’s faint voice. Dizzy with excitement, and on tenterhooks, Tony dithered on whether he should go down and see for himself. See if Leslie was dead. If he was, and he prayed most fervently that this was so, then Alicia had done the job for him. If that was the case, then it was the neatest ending that he could possibly have wished for. He’d have no need to get his own hands soiled.

  ~~~

  Kristiakis crept along the valley bottom, and ziz-zagged up the slope to where he thought Leslie lay. It’d taken him far longer to reach the spot than he had thought. The years’ growth in the prickly acacia bushes causing him to retrace his steps more than once. Now, nearing his old enemy he couldn’t help feeling a moment of rejoicing. He’d waited so long, for just this moment! It was his one chance of retribution when he saw that Alicia had provided the means for him to get away with the ultimate solution.

  To exterminate the old bastard.

  ~~~

  Antigone sank down onto the ground, trembling. Over the years she’d waited for something to happen. Now, with the scene spread below her she wondered if she would have the will, the resolve to carry out her plan. She ached to revenge herself. Could she do it? With a determination she stood up. A cold stillness descending over her, filling her veins, her mind, her heart. For the first time in ages she had a clear head. She lost all the fuzziness and the familiar feeling of isolation as, picking up her bag and draping the strap over her shoulder, she began to climb down.

  Chapter 40. A Dark Secret.

  O, well done! I commend your pains, and every one shall share i’ th’gains.

  Macbeth. Act 4 Scene 1

  For the first time in months, the sky wasn’t the usual shade of blue that everyone expected. High wispy clouds draped a thin, mean shawl across the sun.

  Diana was feeling restless. She had suffered a disturbed night. It was hot and stuffy in their bedroom, and when she opened the window wide for more air, the drone of an invading mosquito had almost driven her mad. Eventually, knowing that sleep was going to evade her, she went downstairs, poured a glass of chilled water from the fridge and sat out on the dark terrace.

  A zephyr of a breeze tripped across her moonlit refuge. It lifted tendrils of moist hair from her neck. Relieved, she tilted her face towards the fresh draught. The breeze might well indicate the coming of autumn and the welcome sweet rain. After five months of sweltering heat, everyone on the island would welcome it. As the weather cooled, everything changed. Plants took on a new lease of life throwing out fresh shoots and flowers. Animals and humans found renewed energy.

  Steve would channel more thought into his business back in England and Diana could finally get on with her latest book. She’d had difficulties in settling down to a routine lately. Refusing to admit she had writer’s block (she didn’t believe in it), only that she had come to a hiatus in its final chapters. Her health was still bothering her too. With the promise of cooler weather she resolved to knuckle down and finish the book. In fact, she could do some work on it now. It was perfect timing. Cool, quiet and peaceful, with no interruptions.

  ~~~

  Diana worked solidly for the whole of the morning. Despite her early start she didn’t feel at all tired. Instead, she was buoyed up with unspent energy and knew that she had to now put down her pencil and go out for some fresh air. She usually found that a walk around the village was the best remedy. Peeking into the colourful courtyards and gardens of the honey-coloured stone houses was always relaxing. Glancing at her watch, she discovered there was a good hour or so before she needed to think about preparing some lunch.

  She went looking for her husband and found him at the kitchen table. Steve was so deeply engrossed in deciphering Leslie’s little black book that he didn’t want to accompany her.

  ‘I’ve done it!’ he exclaimed. ‘I’ve broken the code. It’s a very simple one. Anyway look, you go on. I want to finish this completely today,’ his face was flushed with excitement.

  ‘What about the remaining entries? What do they mean?’ she asked peering over his shoulder.

  ‘Whoa! Let me finish first before I te
ll you. I’d rather I had all the facts.’ With a smile and a kiss he told her to go away, have a good walk and they’d discuss it later over lunch. ‘With luck I’ll have the complete story for you then.’

  ~~~

  Passing the village Kafeneio, Di waved to the owner and called out a cheery Kalimera. Yiannis was overseeing one of his young daughters whilst she mopped the floor of the café. Normally, Di would have stopped and enquired how he and his huge family were, but this morning she was keen to get out for some uninterrupted exercise and fresh air into her lungs. She passed their favourite village café-bar, The Magic Teapot, run by a gregarious couple from Guildford, Roy and Geraldine. They’d spent the last couple of weeks back in England celebrating the birth of their latest grandson. It was good to see them back in Agios Mamas. They had the windows of the bar wide-open for airing and were busy putting the tables and chairs out for tonight’s happy hour. The horrible events had passed them by whilst they were back in the UK, and Diana envied them. She wished she’d been away herself and missed the grisly deaths. She knew that she wouldn’t have long to run the gauntlet before filling in the details for them. But not today, and feeling a bit of a coward, she silently back-tracked along the path she had come and took another route around the more deserted outskirts of the village perimeter. She was enjoying her own company, without anyone talking about the two deaths. She needed this time on her own.

  The path she followed was of the usual rough, uneven cobblestones. It was precarious in places, and Di wondered why more people didn’t suffer from injuries. Deep in concentration, she ran right into Antigone who was coming out of her courtyard. Antigone’s sudden appearance startled Di out of her daydream. As Di recovered her surprise she took a good look at the woman who had just lost her brother in his supposed suicide.

  Antigone looked different. At first, Di couldn’t see why and then it hit her. Not only did she wear clean clothes, but her hair had been brushed and drawn back from her face into some sort of plait. For the first time since she’d known Antigone, she didn’t smell quite so goatee as usual either. She must have taken a bath. Diana noted the other woman’s fine eyes. Without the ingrained dirt, Di could see that when she was younger, Antigone must have been pretty.