The Legal & the Illicit: Featuring Inspector Walter Darriteau (Inspector Walter Darriteau cases Book 5)

by David Carter

  ‘I thought we were going for a tour of the island,’ Midge heard Coral say.

  ‘We are, my sweet, but I need to change my clothes, I’m sweaty. It will only take a few seconds, step inside out of the heat. Come, it’s cool inside.’

  Midge peered from his hiding place. There was no sign of Nicoliades, but the front door was open with Coral standing outside alone. Her eyes darted this way and that, checking where he was. The Greek’s voice echoed from inside the old house.

  ‘Come in out of the sun.’

  Coral placed her left foot on the step before looking around. Where the hell are you, Midge? She saw him hurtling silently across the alleyway towards the door as if he was flying. She stepped inside, leaving the door ajar, as Midge threw himself in after her. Nicoliades returned to the door as the crazy eyed stranger hurtled into his home, slamming the door behind him.

  ‘Who the hell are you?’ he shouted. ‘What’s going on?’ He turned to Coral. ‘Do you know this man? Is he with you?’

  She shook her head and hurried to stand behind Nicoliades as if for protection. ‘I’ve never seen him before!’

  Midge brandished the knife under the Greek’s nose. Nicoliades’ arms automatically rose up as if he’d remembered some primitive defence strategy.

  ‘Hold on, guy! What’s going on?’

  ‘Retribution time, Nicoliades,’ snarled Midge. ‘Time to pay.’

  ‘Time to pay,’ he scoffed. ‘Pay for what? What are you on?’

  ‘For raping and torturing my fiancé,’ Midge spat out. ‘Time to pay, pal!’

  ‘I’ve never raped and tortured anyone in my life,’ protested the Greek. He was struggling not to laugh, as he looked back at Coral. ‘This man’s unbalanced, I’ve never raped anyone, honest to God, why would I need to rape women when they fling themselves at me?’

  ‘Lisa Greystone!’ barked Midge. ‘Remember her!’

  ‘Lisa? You mean Lisa’s your fiancé?’

  Midge nodded and shook the knife. Nicoliades jumped backwards and said, ‘My friend, someone is kidding you. There was never any necessity to rape Lisa, I can assure you of that.’

  His arms fell open, pleadingly like a cormorant drying its wings.

  ‘You cuffed her and raped her! All your family did, I know all the filthy details!’

  The Greek smiled and for a moment folded his arms across his chest.

  ‘Yes I tied her up, you know how it is. She was game for anything. She begged for more, you don’t know what they’re like when they come on holiday, a few wines, the sun, they go a little crazy. Yes, it is true, a little rough sometimes, but they are insatiable. She couldn’t get enough.’ The Greek’s body language changed as he switched back into apologetic mode. ‘Yes, I know what happened with my nephew was wrong. He came here to pick up some change for the bar and found her. Being a young hot-blooded boy he couldn’t resist. What young man could? Surely a man of the world such as yourself could understand and forgive one small lapse. He regretted it afterwards, and I gave him a good hiding. Come down to the bar, he’ll confirm everything. He’s not a bad boy. You can thrash him yourself, whatever you think best. But don’t make a big mistake, come to the bar and have a whisky and we’ll talk it through. Have dinner, on me. But the boy, he is yours to do with as you please, whatever you say, whatever you think.’

  ‘And the old man?’ persisted Midge, ‘I suppose he just happened to find her too?’

  ‘The old man!’ laughed Nicoliades. ‘The old man is not capable of such a thing! He’s way past it. Really, he is, if only you could see him. You’re losing it, my friend, listen to yourself, your story gets more preposterous. Look, is Lisa here, on Carsos? Bring her here! Bring her to see me. I promise she will straighten everything out. You have the wrong idea about me. Totally wrong. Where is Lisa?’

  ‘He’s lying!’ yelled Coral, standing behind Nico, revealing her colours. ‘Don’t believe a word he says!’

  Nicoliades swung round, his arms outstretched, his eyes wide and steady, as he stared at Coral. For a brief moment confusion reigned, before he realised they were in it together.

  ‘You! You do know this man! You tricked me. You brought me here on purpose.’

  Before she could answer he turned and faced Midge. ‘I don’t know what is going on here, my friend, but you are making a huge mistake. I think you should leave now before someone gets hurt. Leave and we’ll forget everything.’

  Midge glanced past the Greek at Coral. She saw the doubt in his eyes and knew he was wavering. She ripped a knife from her bag, raised her hand high back over her shoulder, and plunged it down towards Nicoliades with all the strength she possessed. Nic didn’t see the knife coming. It struck him between the shoulder blades and slipped deep into his body with a squish as if it had been tossed onto muddy ground.

  Midge saw the Greek’s eyes widen. Nic tried to speak, but no words came. He took half a step forward and fell heavily face down towards Midge. He gaped down at the Greek. He was lying at an unnatural angle, his head to one side, his legs crumbled and bent. He wasn’t dead for he whimpered once, shook several times, before becoming still. Blood gushed from the wound, blotching his shirt and dripping to the floor like red rain. The handle of the knife stood proudly erect in the centre of the room. They couldn’t take their eyes from it. The blade had entered his heart, and the blackness descended fast.

  ‘What did you do that for?’ stammered Midge.

  ‘It’s what we came here for!’ shrieked Coral. ‘Remember!’

  ‘I know, but. Give me a second. I need to think.’

  ‘Is he dead?’ she muttered.

  ‘Course he’s dead! You’d be bloody dead with that thing sticking right through you!’

  ‘All right! All right! Don’t shout!’

  ‘Have you touched anything?’

  She shook her head. ‘Don’t think so.’

  ‘Then don’t!’

  Midge eased the knife from the dead man’s back and took it to the kitchen and washed it under the tap. He watched the blood thinning before disappearing down the plughole, wrapped the knife in a cloth, slipped it in her bag, and bent down and rifled Nic’s trousers for the door key. He went to the door and opened it, pulled it ajar and peered up and down the alley. An old woman was coming up the hill and it seemed to take an eternity for her to arrive and pass by. When he looked again, she had finally disappeared. The alleyway was clear.

  ‘When I open the door,’ he whispered, ‘slip out. Head toward the harbour and back to the boat. Don’t run and don’t speak to a soul.’

  ‘What are you going to do?’

  ‘I’ll lock up and follow. It’s best we’re not seen together.’

  He opened the door enough for her to slip through and watched her strolling down the hill, carrying her bag jauntily as if she was going shopping. Afterwards, he remembered thinking it wasn’t the typical demeanour of a murderess. He glanced back at the bloodied body.

  ‘Oh Jesus, what have we done?’ he whispered. ‘Oh, my God!’

  He returned to the door, opened it a touch and peered up and down the lane. There was no sign of Coral. Three or four toddlers were playing happily at the top of the hill, no one else about. He slipped outside, closed and locked the door behind him, and set off for the harbour.

  Halfway down the hill he came to a grid. He squatted down and peered into it. It seemed deep and dark and it stank of sewage and rotten rat. He looked up and down the lane again. No one there. He dropped the key through the slats and waited until he heard the rusting metal tumble far below into the old sewers.

  By the time he arrived back at the cruiser Coral was making ready for sea. She leant over towards him as he began untying the ropes.

  ‘Did you speak to anyone?’ he whispered.

  ‘No,’ she said, ‘no one.’

  ‘Me neither.’

  He loosened the mooring ropes and threw them on the stern, leapt aboard and ran up the steps to the control cabin, started the engines and eased th
e vessel into the centre of the harbour. Several people dining and drinking on the quayside noticed the flash cruiser getting under way. They watched her every movement. It wasn’t unusual for beginners to make a total mess of it and it might be fun. There were millions of Euros of boat in that harbour, and the watchers sensed an insurance claim coming on.

  ‘Strange time to leave,’ muttered one.

  ‘She only arrived last night,’ said another.

  ‘They were an odd couple though, weren’t they?’

  ‘Oh? How so?’

  ‘Last night she dined alone. I saw her in Nic’s bar. The bloke left her to it.’

  ‘Perhaps they had a row?’

  ‘Maybe. Happens to us all.’

  ‘I wouldn’t have rowed with her, would you? What a looker, I’d have kept her under lock and key.’

  ‘Perhaps he’s gay.’

  ‘Didn’t look it.’

  ‘Maybe he’s incapable.’

  ‘That’s more likely.’

  Coarse laughter followed as the gossipers tipped up their near empty wine bottle, before refocusing on the cruiser.

  ‘You could be right.’

  ‘They seem to know what they are doing.’

  ‘Looks that way.’

  The watchers didn’t miss a thing, gongoozling for Greece, as Midge coolly brought the boat slowly to port, and slipped her out through the harbour entrance, and on toward the open sea. In deeper water he opened her up and began cruising at twenty-five knots, as the balmy wind gripped at their hair. When he was sure they were alone, he tossed the knives haphazardly into the sea. It was deep there, and he was certain they would never be found. He tore Lisa’s notes into tiny scraps and scattered them to the four winds like snowflakes, screwed up the cloths and tossed them over the side. For a moment they watched them floating away, bobbing on the sea, until the heavy wake hit them. They revolved two or three times as if in a gigantic washing machine and disappeared beneath the waves.

  Midge remembered something he’d read about murders: When you commit murder you always forget things. Clues. But what had they forgotten? He searched his brain, but it was blank. He began laughing and Coral did too.

  ‘We did it!’ he shouted. ‘We damn well did it!’

  His words lost on the wind; only Coral heard. She grinned and said, ‘I did it,’ touching her chest, ‘I think you’ll find that I did it.’

  He looked across at her and knew she was right. He knew too that if it had been left to him, Nicoliades Emperikos would still be alive, though he would never admit it.

  AS THE EVENING WENT on the bar became busy. By ten o’clock it was heaving, including a crowd of leery women from Sheffield, an extended hen do, they said, two whole weeks. Who but the English could stage a hen night that ran for a fortnight? It wasn’t long before Aris was moaning at the staff. ‘Where the hell is Nicoliades?’

  The young boy winked at him. ‘On business. Attractive too.’

  He kissed his touching finger and thumb. ‘I don’t think we’ll see Uncle Nico again tonight.’

  Aris cursed his boss as the bar filled to bursting. His patience snapped.

  ‘I’m going to ring him!’

  He grabbed the mobile, punched in the number, and listened to the heart-beating ring. There was no answer. Aris cursed again.

  ‘I told you, we won’t see Uncle Nico again tonight,’ grinned the kid, ‘and he won’t thank you for disturbing him. We can manage without him. Leave him to his work, he’s on Greek business.’

  The thought brought a smile to the harassed Aris.

  ‘Ah yes, the Greek business, at least we’re good at something, but that rat Nico does choose his moments.’

  MIDGE THROTTLED BACK on the power as darkness descended. They switched on the navigation lights and floodlights too. But cruising in strange waters at night, waters infested with tiny rocky islands, was a difficult and dangerous business, even with modern tech. They’d missed the late flight home so settled in line astern behind a large ferry trudging its way back to Piraeus. They were making barely ten knots, the speed of an old stagecoach, and it was frustrating, but at least they would be safe for as long as they tracked the ferry.

  ‘Do you think they’ve found him?’ asked Coral.

  ‘I don’t know, let’s hope not.’

  BY THE TIME THEY CRUISED slowly up the channel, heading for the Corinth Cruising Company berths, it was past midnight. All the lights in the buildings were off, and further down the quayside they saw the main entrance to the road was locked and bolted. Only to be expected. At least there wasn’t a reception committee of pulsing police vehicles. So far so good.

  Midge said, ‘We’ll spend the night here.’

  ‘What! Why?’

  ‘Because we can’t get the car out of the gate, for one, and we need to recover the passports for another.’

  ‘But they’re forgeries.’

  ‘I know, but they contain photographs. We’ll have to wait until they open.’

  ‘But they’re bound to have found him by then.’

  ‘I don’t think so. If they didn’t discover him tonight those barkeepers never rise early. It could be lunchtime before anyone thinks to check. By then we’ll be on the morning flight.’

  ‘It’s a hell of a risk.’

  ‘I know, but we haven’t any choice.’

  Midge’s planning didn’t appear so watertight after all. But he was right about one thing: there was nothing else they could do. They retreated to the master cabin and snuggled up together, though neither would discover sleep. It was another humid Greek night; thank heaven for air-con, yet it was never the humidity that preyed on their minds.

  They rose early and hurriedly washed and dressed and packed their things. The caretaker unlocked the gates at half-past seven, and the Corinth Cruisers’ boss arrived in his old Volkswagen at eight. He was surprised to see the Cambria berthed there, but relieved to see it safely home.

  Midge gave Coral the car key and told her to load the Fiat and wait in it. Boreas clambered aboard and checked over the boat.

  ‘Everything seems in order,’ he muttered. ‘I’m surprised to see you back so soon.’

  Perhaps the guy wasn’t as good a lover after all. Maybe the girl blew him out; perhaps she needed an expert, an older man, and a Greek at that.

  ‘Here are the passports.’

  ‘Thanks. We’ll be back in three months,’ Midge lied.

  ‘Look forward to it, have a safe journey home.’

  They shook hands and Midge hurried to the car

  ‘Everything all right?’ she whispered.

  ‘No probs.’

  Midge started the Fiat, drove out through the gates, and joined the main drag back to the airport. They returned the vehicle without a hitch and trotted round to the check-in desk, half expecting to be apprehended by a sullen pair of young policemen. But they seemed too busy gawping at the girls, especially Coral. By half-past nine the Ridge siblings were settled on the plane. At quarter to ten the engines burst to life, the airliner thundered down the runway, and darted into the sky like a Ridge Commodities Logo.

  Coral clutched Midge’s arm.

  ‘Have we done it, do you think?’ she whispered.

  ‘I don’t know. Let’s hope so. One more hurdle to clear, Heathrow. I think we’ll be OK.’

  AT THE SAME TIME, ARIS deliberately arrived at the bar earlier than usual. He knew there would be broken crockery strewn everywhere, and empty bottles by the score, because they’d enjoyed another record night. There would be much cleaning and tidying to do after such fun and games. Nicoliades would be pleased when he counted the takings. But Aris was determined to take him to one side and give him a hell of a rollicking. He wouldn’t tolerate that again, and meant to make his feelings clear. One more night like that and he’d be out of there for good.

  He’d expected to find Nicoliades there, contrite, smirking, and working away, full of apologies, with juicy stories of passion and intrigue. Winks and smiles and d
igs in the ribs, and all aimed at gaining forgiveness for his selfish behaviour. But Nicoliades wasn’t there. No one was. The bar was still locked.

  Aris cursed and unlocked the door and the stench, a combination of stale food, dead wine bottles, and vomit emanating from the ladies lavatory, almost knocked him off his feet. He swore and threw open the shutters. His mood was still deteriorating. A hot breeze came up out of nowhere and flowed across the harbour. It swished into the bar, blowing tired menus from the corner tables. He had just about had his fill, and thought of taking the day off.

  The kid arrived; at least he was up and working.

  ‘Is Nic here yet?’ he said, grinning.

  ‘No!’ sulked Aris. ‘This isn’t good enough!’

  Aris pulled his phone from his trousers and rang again. Still no reply.

  ‘It must have been a record night in more ways than one,’ smirked the kid.

  ‘I’m sick of this!’ snapped Aris, as he banged the glasses he had been collecting onto the bar. ‘I’m going to drag him out, and I don’t care how many women he has up there!’

  He strode up the hill, irritation dripping from every step. But the climb induced breathlessness. He hadn’t been that way in months and had forgotten what a hike it was. When he arrived at the house, he was suffering from heartburn. There was no one about. He thundered on the door with the side of his clenched fist, but no one came. A near neighbour, an elderly woman, came out of her house from further up the hill.

  ‘Have you seen Nicoliades?’ asked Aris.

  She shook her head. ‘Not since yesterday morning.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  The woman shuffled off down the hill, her reed-shopping basket balanced on her arm, as Aris rang Nicoliades again. No reply. He pressed his ear to the thick door. He could hear a phone ringing. It sounded far off, yet it was definitely Nic’s phone because it bumbled that ridiculous ringtone that only he possessed. Aris disconnected and rang the number again. Nic’s phone burst into life, but it wasn’t answered.