I opened the door and almost fell out into her arms. She reared back. ‘Oh my God. Fuck! What’s happened? Are you hurt?’
‘It’s the dog,’ I said. ‘I found it. Someone slit its throat. I was too late to save it.’
I leant back into the van and fumbled for my cigarettes. My hands were shaking.
‘You’re covered in blood,’ she said. Her expression was one of revulsion. I lit a fag and took a deep draw on it.
‘I know. It was horrible.’
She took a step back. ‘You’ve got blood on your . . . on the cigarette.’
I held it up. She was right.
‘Good God.’ Andrew had rounded the house, wearing nothing but a towel around his waist. Fresh from the shower, he had swept his hair back; you could still see the comb lines. ‘What the fuck has happened? What have you been doing with Hermes?’
‘Yes.’ Alice pulled her eyes away from me. ‘What have you been doing with Hermes?’
‘It was supposed to be a surprise.’
Gavras was at the house within half an hour. While Alice put the van back in the shed I held my hands under the hot tap, watching the blood stream, mix with water and disappear in swirls down the drain. I was still in shock. I needed to shower and to change but Tina brought me a cold bottle of beer and I sat down on the terrace to recover. ‘What a horrible thing to witness,’ Tina said. ‘Poor you.’
‘We thought we’d been burgled,’ Andrew said. ‘The van gone, all the doors to the house wide open . . .’ He had got dressed and was wearing a Breton top and white jeans, a close-fitting outfit he looked uncomfortable in.
‘I should have locked up.’
Tina topped up my glass. ‘The kids think stuff is missing, cash, and that someone has been going through their things. But obviously they’re mistaken.’
I sighed heavily. ‘I should shower,’ I said, looking down at my T-shirt and blood-streaked trousers.
‘What have you been doing all day?’ Alice said, putting her arm across my shoulder.
‘We missed you,’ Tina added.
I should have abandoned the Helladic settlement story. Sue me: I didn’t. I told them I had gone to Okarta and visited the ruins – not a lot to see, most of the discovered artefacts being kept at the museum in Pyros town. I had returned to the house and, finding it deserted, had driven down to Agios Stefanos to meet them off the boat, didn’t know how I had missed them. The rest of my account was the truth – driving back, stalling, looking over the gate, seeing the dark motionless shape.
‘So – when you decided to take Hermes, she just started?’ Alice said.
‘No. That was yesterday.’
‘But you didn’t tell me last night.’
‘I tried to!’
That’s when we heard the car.
Gavras was accompanied by two men: the stocky builder in the pale blue shirt, and a thin man with a wispy beard in a midnight blue rayon waistcoat, who, Gavras said, represented the contractor. The four of them stood, legs apart, while Tina and Alice offered beer or glasses of cold water. Andrew leant against the olive tree at the top of the path to the pool. Archie and Frank lumbered up, and Tina darted across the terrace and gestured at them to return to the pool. She went with them, so only Andrew and Alice were witnesses to what happened next.
‘Oh dear,’ Gavras said, looking with distaste at my bloody clothes. ‘Hopefully –’ he smiled briefly ‘– we can sort this messy business quickly.’
He took the chair next to me and leant in, elbows on each side, his feet hooking under the legs of the table. He was holding a large leather-bound notebook and he opened it on his knee, half under the table to conceal its contents.
It felt airless on the terrace; a light, ragged shelf of cloud had shuffled over the sun and the breeze had dropped. I dipped my head to wipe the pearls of sweat from my forehead on the bottom of my shirt, realised I might have smeared blood and put my hand up to check.
Gavras looked down at the notebook, perhaps to refresh his memory of my name. ‘Mr Morris. A few boring administrative questions.’
‘Sure.’
‘I wonder if you could tell me when you arrived in Pyros?’
‘When I arrived?’
‘Yes. How long have you been a guest of Mrs Mackenzie?’
‘Oh. I see. Oh right. Yes. I arrived here on – when was it? God, you lose track of time here.’
‘Monday,’ Alice said, sitting down on the other side of me.
‘Yes, that’s right. I got the early Thomas Cook flight.’
Gavras wrote my first lie down in his notebook and then looked up. ‘And how long are we lucky enough to have your company here on Pyros?’
‘Another ten days. With fair winds and a following sea.’
‘Fair winds?’
‘It’s a quote.’
‘I wonder if I might take your contact details. Obviously I have Mrs Mackenzie’s and Mr and Mrs Hopkins’s on file, but you are new to me.’ Gavras’s eyes were still on me. ‘Your phone number?’ he said eventually. ‘Mobile will be adequate.’
‘Of course,’ I said and reeled it off.
He wrote it down, then looked up. ‘Address?’
I shrugged. ‘Well. Here!’
‘In the United Kingdom?’
I felt the heat rise again, sweat collecting in my armpits. Alice was listening. I told him the address of Alex’s flat in Bloomsbury. Gavras had trouble with the name of the road – I had to spell it out, letter by letter. Lie by lie.
When he had finished writing this down, he closed his notebook and leant his elbows on it. ‘Mr Morris. I understand your emotions regarding the guard dog got the better of you today. I am not here to arrest you. A dog . . . is a dog. But I am sure like the rest of us you would like to secure a peaceful end to this business.’
‘He didn’t do it.’ Alice leant forwards. ‘He says he didn’t and I believe him. Paul likes animals.’
‘Mrs Mackenzie. Stravros here –’ Gavras gestured to the labourer in the pale blue shirt ‘– saw him covered with blood. As he still is.’ He looked at my T-shirt again, turning down the corners of his mouth. ‘He was caught, is caught . . . how do you say, red-handed.’
I looked down. ‘I know I have blood on me. I don’t know how. I must have picked it up.’
‘Stravros, as you see, does not have blood on him.’
‘I think I got it from the gate.’
‘Did you attempt to assassinate the dog earlier today, Mr Morris?’ Gavras gave a wry smile, enjoying his own joke. ‘A witness saw you in the field at about 11 a.m., staking out the land, shall we say. You were spotted and you ran away.’
‘I was there this morning, it’s true,’ I said. ‘I was just having a quiet cigarette. I wasn’t staking out the land, and I didn’t kill the dog. I’m sorry. I just didn’t.’
‘We all heard you!’ Phoebe came out of the kitchen, followed by Daisy. ‘You said it needed putting out of its misery. Didn’t he, Daisy?’
Daisy slunk back against the wall. ‘I dunno,’ she muttered. She was caught. Keeping quiet had turned out useful after all; she needed to keep me on side.
‘He said he had plans,’ Phoebe said. ‘That’s why he didn’t come sailing. Tosser.’
‘Phoebe! Go back into the house.’ Alice said. ‘You’re just making things worse.’
I waited until Phoebe had slammed the door behind her, and then I said quietly: ‘I didn’t go sailing because I went sight-seeing.’
Gavras was looking at me expectantly. ‘Sight-seeing?’
I sat down. ‘I went to visit the ruins at Okarta. I took the bus.’
‘The bus?’
I nodded. ‘From the stop by the shrine. Wonderful views up there,’ I said.
Gavras nodded. He gestured to his sidekick who took a few steps towards us, holding a plastic bag which he laid on the table.
Gavras poked it. ‘The knife. I could, if I wanted, have it tested for prints. But, for a dog, who could be bothered?’ He laughed. �
��Maybe we can sort this out between ourselves? Mr Morris – the builder needs to procure a new dog. You understand. Valuable machinery needs to be protected.’ He said something in Greek to the man with the wispy beard, who answered. Then Gavras turned back to me: ‘Two hundred euros – no problem.’
I began to protest.
‘Two hundred euros and the whole thing goes away.’ He waved wearily at the house, at the pool; at Alice, who had sat down, her hands cupping her face. ‘It is nothing, no? And at least tonight you’ll get a good night’s sleep. And I can get back to the investigation of more serious matters.’
‘I didn’t do it,’ I said. ‘I don’t see why I should pay anything.’
Andrew said, eminently reasonable: ‘Come on, let’s just do what he says.’
‘I haven’t got the money,’ I said. ‘Look . . .’ I got up and went into the bedroom, grabbed my wallet from the bed and coming back out, handed it to Gavras. ‘That’s all I have,’ I said.
He undid the clasp and pulled the leather apart. The ten-euro note from Louis’s bed was in there, as was my credit card, a few random receipts, and – I realised too late – Andrew’s three gold condoms.
‘I see,’ he said.
He drew out the ten-euro note, closed the wallet, paused, reopened it to study the gold condoms, and then re-closed it and handed it back. With a small, disappointed smile, he said, ‘I was so hoping we could end this. Now I don’t know. Paperwork.’ He shrugged, and turned to the other two men who, seeing the ten-euro note in his hand, began waving their arms and talking angrily.
Andrew stepped forward. He murmured something softly to Gavras, who then gestured to the other two men and the four of them walked to the other side of the terrace. Andrew unlocked the external door to his room and went in for a minute, while the others waited. When he came out, he was holding a clear plastic wallet from a bureau de change, and he opened it. He handed several notes to the man with a wispy beard, and then peeled off a couple more for the blue-shirted builder, and a couple more for Gavras.
Gavras nodded and put his notes in his pocket.
A brief conversation took place, and then all three of them left.
Andrew walked back towards us with a sloping, apologetic gait. ‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘It seemed the easiest thing.’
‘But I didn’t do it,’ I said. ‘And now you’ve practically accepted that I did. Paying them off is an admission of guilt.’
‘Anything for an easy life,’ Andrew said, opening the kitchen door and going in. There was a suck as the fridge door opened.
‘I wouldn’t be surprised if they didn’t cut the dog’s throat,’ I said loudly so my words would reach him. ‘They weren’t even feeding it. It was half starved. We’ve been played.’
Alice pushed her chair back and dropped her head to rest her forehead on the edge of the table.
‘Who did do it?’ I said. ‘Who would do such a thing?’ I remembered something Andrew had said earlier. ‘What about Artan? Andrew – did you talk to him? Did you ask him to get heavy?’
Andrew came back out, holding a bottle of beer. ‘I did talk to Artan,’ he said.
‘Do you think he misunderstood what you meant?’
Andrew sighed. ‘Yes, maybe. He doesn’t speak good English.’
‘Would he kill a dog?’ I was aware of screwing my face up in horror.
Daisy was sitting quietly on the ground by the kitchen door, but she cleared her throat. ‘He wouldn’t,’ she said, her voice husky.
‘You sure?’ I asked, making her look me in the eye.
She stared up at me from under her lashes, her mouth firm, and then she nodded. ‘He’s a friend,’ she said eventually.
Alice said, ‘I think when you have watched your own family die, you tend to be less sentimental towards animals.’
Andrew rested his spare hand lightly on her bare shoulder. I felt, in the tightness of the air, the rigidity of their stance, a kind of electricity, of mutual understanding, and I felt a flood of hatred towards him. It wasn’t up to him to sort everything. He didn’t own her, and one day I’d prove it to him. I’d bide my time, but I’d make him pay.
Chapter Seventeen
It rained in the night and in the morning the cushions were sodden, the silvered wood chairs streaked black. Water lay in pools at the outer edge of the terrace, and dripped on to the table through cracks in the canopy. My blood-stained shirt and trousers, which I had washed and hung over a branch of the big olive, clung saturated and heavy. The sky was overcast, the sea grey, with sullen low clouds blocking out much of Albania.
There was no fresh bread. No one had gone to get it. We were out of milk, too. I found a couple of biscuits in the cupboard and made myself a black coffee, which I drank standing at the counter in the kitchen. Dirty dishes from the day before, from supper, even from breakfast, lay submerged in cold greasy water in the sink. I should have washed up, but I didn’t have the energy. It felt like the end of the holiday, the end of the party, impossible for anything to be resurrected. Outside it was quiet, the world literally dampened – even the cicadas muted, only the occasionally gurgled crow from a distant cockerel, and the scraping of Artan’s broom as he swept the water and leaves off the terrace. I watched him from the kitchen doorway. He was wearing a black T-shirt and jeans, his cap low over his face. His strokes were abrupt and short as if he resented the job. He saw me watching and stopped. He did something with his mouth that was more sheepish than a smile; perhaps it was a wince.
Tina walked in, pulling her pink dressing gown tighter around her waist.
Artan resumed his sweeping. ‘Shall we ask him if he killed the dog?’ I said, still looking at him.
She yawned, rubbing sleep from the corners of her eyes. ‘No. Let’s just drop it.’
I turned away. ‘At least the builders have stopped.’
‘Probably too wet.’
Alice breezed in then, wearing jeans and a 1950s-style cropped blue top. She had slept well, she said. She had had a lovely shower. ‘And it’s quiet, thank God. Hopefully, they’ve hit an outcrop of rock and decided to relocate the new development further south.’
‘Maybe.’ I kissed her on the top of her head, smelling her shampoo. I found her attempts to raise our spirits, or her own, touching.
‘I think we should have a barbecue for lunch, don’t you? Artan?’ she called to him through the kitchen door. ‘Do you have a moment to clean out the barbecue at the pool? The barbecue? Down there? Cooking?’ She was pointing and miming.
‘I think his English is probably better than we realise,’ I said.
‘What makes you think that?’ Tina asked.
I opened my mouth to hint at what I knew and then changed my mind.
Alice came back in and started writing a list, her lip skewered to one side under her teeth. It was sexy: I remember thinking that.
‘Paul – you’ll do the shop, won’t you?’ she said, handing me a flap of notes. ‘You’ll have to go to the bigger supermarket in Trigaki. It’s about five kilometres along the road to Pyros.’
I was surprised to be asked, but pleased. It showed I was back in her good books. I was her go-to man. I nodded, pocketing the cash. ‘Do you want me to go in Hermes? I’m a bit worried about parking it.’
She thought for a second. ‘No, you might as well take the Hyundai.’
Tina found the keys and I got into the car, pushing the seat back to make room for my legs. When I turned the ignition, the compilation CD burst into life – ‘Charmless Callous Ways’ had come round again. I switched it off and put the car into gear. I was heading slowly towards the drive, when Tina ran after me. I pushed the button to open the window. ‘An addition to the list,’ she said. ‘Alice forgot lye.’
‘Alice forgot to lie?’
‘Lye. For pickling. There’s all those raw olives knocking around. Alice has discovered a clever, quick way of pickling them. She found it online. But you need lye. They’ll have it anywhere – this is Greece.’
‘OK,’ I said. ‘Tina?’
She had already turned away. ‘Yes?’
‘It wasn’t me who killed the dog. You do believe me, don’t you?’
She nodded. ‘It was a mistake. I know.’
I was comforted, as I drove off, though of course her answer was ambiguous.
Trigaki was a dusty little town, up a hill off the main road, the outskirts semi-industrial, with small roundabouts and a web of service roads around warehouses selling bathroom fittings and garden pots in trade quantities. The centre, under its overcast sky, was busy with old men playing backgammon, a spankingly modern chemist, women in headscarves queueing by a squawking van of live chickens.
For a moment, I fantasised about driving on, through the town, out through the other side, driving down to the airport, or anywhere really. The holiday was not what I’d expected, full of death and sadness, and violence – though not of a type any of us could have predicted.
I didn’t drive on. Perhaps it would have taken a different man to do so. But how much better it would have been if I had.
Instead, I found the supermarket and parked in one of the allotted spaces outside it. Inside, it was air-conditioned – a shivery shock of cool. Everything on Alice’s list was easy to find, and I collected the items – chicken legs, lamb chops, dried pasta, feta, tomatoes, beer, charcoal, firelighters. There was no sign of lye, though I wasn’t quite sure where I would find it. Not with the olives. Not with the vinegars. I asked at the checkout but the woman shrugged and pointed through the window in the direction of the town centre. I put the box of shopping in the boot of the car and wandered back down the main street, which was dirty, the gutters full of litter. No obvious outlets selling lye but I passed an ‘internet cafe’ and, on a whim, I went inside. It was empty and, peeling off one of Alice’s notes, I paid for a coffee and fifteen minutes of computer use.
I checked my emails first. I had 127 – most of them spam, or notifications from Amazon or Abe Books. One was from a woman called Katie, apologising for not having been in touch. She had been travelling in Vietnam and Laos (‘awesome’), but she was back and she’d love to pick my brains about journalism some time. Katie, I remembered eventually, was the young thing I’d met all those months ago in the Crown and Hart. How long ago that seemed. And how changed I was now. Why on earth would a girl like her be interested in my opinion? Why would I be interested in hers?
Lie With Me Page 19
