A Darker God (18 page)

“A death. An assassination.”

The visitor allowed the words to make an impression, enjoying the look of astonishment and concern on his listeners, and added: “I come hotfoot from the theatre of Dionysus—or the ‘crime scene,’ as we must now call it, since it’s presently in
the hands of the Athens C.I.D. A Graeco-British contingent of the boys in blue are, as we speak, turning over every loose stone looking for clues. That well-oiled double act: Theotakis and Montacute, playing with their fingerprint kits. Doing a lot of agreeing. Can’t tell you what a happy time they’re having, sleuthing about!”

“Already? But why? Isn’t this a little premature? How could this have happened? And—the police? Who on earth was so stupid as to send for
them?
Do they normally turn up for accidental death … the death from natural causes we look for? Surely not?” Wentworth was aghast.

“Aren’t you taking all this a little lightly, my lad?” Grant’s first contribution to the conversation was delivered with a mildness that went little way to disguising the steel beneath it.

There was an uneasy pause before the reply came. Information was obviously being sifted, censored perhaps. Prepared for presentation to the real authority in the room. Then: “Rather unfortunate … sure you’d be the first to agree, Grant … these things can happen despite the most careful planning—”

“Get to it!”

“Montacute was right there on the spot as anticipated. But so also was an inconveniently nosey member of the public. William Gunning. You know—Andrew Merriman’s protégé. Some sort of archaeologist or architect … dancing attendance on Lady Merriman and the Talbot girl. He’s no fool and ex-military, I’d say, judging by his bearing. Likely to know a bayonet wound when he sees one. He took one look at the body and sounded the alarm. Can’t say I blame him—it was evident to all that someone had been done to death—and by a professional hand.”

“Bayonet?” Grant could contain his anger no longer. “What a fiasco! This was never intended! Whatever have you
done
, laddie? You’re telling me you’ve despatched someone,
without authority, in a flamboyantly murderous way in full view of a man of the cloth? An English vicar?”

“And no doubt our young friend had the editor of the London
Times
standing by, pen at the ready,” said Wentworth, a warning hand going out to pat the bristling Scotsman on the tightening muscle of his upper right arm. Grant’s slow-boiling temper terrified Freddy even more than Geoffrey Melton’s snakelike menace. Really, he deserved better, Freddy thought. Why had he been sent these two when he’d put in for a couple of perfectly nice Magdalene men? Hey ho! Perhaps if he arranged to lock them up together in a room, neither would emerge?

The First Secretary’s next question was more in the nature of an accusation, and he just managed not to cast a triumphant glance sideways at Grant. “What you’re telling us is that you’ve made a confounded mess of all this! God knows what the Greek military are going to have to say about it! You’ve queered their pitch—do you know that? I don’t like to think what that appalling old man-eater Konstantinou will have to say to me. And it will be
me
they call in after breakfast to stand to attention on the carpet and suffer a mauling. Not you. Not Grant. They are supremely unaware of the presence of either of you two buggers on Greek soil.
I’m
the face of the British Government. The face that gets slapped. Oh, couldn’t you have—? We were assured you were adept at flushing out and disposing of … at arranging accidents.”

“Certainly I could have…. It was all in hand. You approved my plans for a swift theatrical exit. It would have worked out well,” the visitor said thoughtfully. “At the given time. Nothing easier. Tonight, in the backstage mêlée, I could have done away with half the chorus line and got away with it.” The words slowed, a note of puzzlement creeping in. “It’s just that someone jumped the gun.
I
didn’t kill him.”

“Are we glad to hear that?” Wentworth’s icy tone indicated that he had had quite enough of the games. “Are you requiring us to congratulate you on a
non
-assassination? Perhaps if you were finally to disclose the identity of the unfortunate victim we could decide whether to pat you on the back or kick you up the arse
…?”

A rare smile of devastating charm lit Geoffrey Melton’s austere features briefly as he further confided: “Most odd! I wasn’t the killer and the victim wasn’t the victim—at least not the one any of
us
has in mind.”

Chapter 14

T
he moment her doctor left, Maud Merriman changed into the long black evening dress and single row of pearls she judged suitable for her new status in life. She returned to the drawing room and seated herself in a brocade armchair, alone and brooding in the lamplight. Waiting.

She looked at the clock on the mantelpiece when she heard her cousin stamping up the stairs to the second floor, and began to speak the moment Thetis came into the room. “Of course one could never say as much with that bloodhound of a policeman sniffing about, but Andrew would have been very much a target for violence, you know.” It was the voice of a woman eager to express the thoughts that had clearly been occupying her for the past hour. “He risked his life every time he walked unaccompanied down an alley or into the countryside. Salonika, you know … He would never have risked going back north to that hated place. But perhaps Salonika, at the last, came to him?”

Thetis stared at her, uncomprehending. “What on earth are you talking about? A target for violence? Andrew? What’s that supposed to mean?” Her voice was slurred by fatigue. And
then, enlivened by a touch of suspicion: “Didn’t I hear you say you thought he’d died of a heart attack …”

“Oh, come now! I couldn’t help noticing the wound in his chest. It seemed to me more dignified not to point it out. Draw a veil over the unpleasantness—that would always be my way. Let the policeman do his ghastly job … the poking and prodding business. Everyone saw it; no one mentioned it. I expect you were aware of it, too? You did spend quite some time peering into the bathtub, Thetis … And
you
of all people might be expected to recognise a bayonet wound when you clapped eyes on one.”

Her cousin stared straight ahead and ignored her.

Maud pressed on, sweetening her tone: “Yes, poor thing, you must have realised at once. How perfectly dreadful for you! William Gunning certainly was aware—he took it upon himself in his kindly sacerdotal way to explain the situation to me as he drove me home. I smiled and nodded and took his words in the spirit in which they were offered. But I’m not quite the silly old woman Gunning—and others—take me for.”

“Maud, you’ve had the most awful shock. Will you let me call Dr. Peebles and ask him to prescribe a sedative?”

“He’s already seen me. About an hour ago. You’re very late.” The older woman’s voice took on its familiar martyred tone. “I’ve had time to make a few telephone calls, send off a few messages … The caterer had to be stood down, of course-that was a priority. I’ve started another list which you may care to help me work through when you’re feeling a little sharper.” She paused, running an eye over her uncommunicative cousin. “But, Thetis, my dear, you don’t look wonderful yourself … In fact, you look done in. You’re barely listening to me. I hope you didn’t allow yourself to become too
embroiled
with the detective branch? And I trust that they behaved themselves? I can understand that, as you
were
the only one of the cast actually armed with a sword at the
moment critique
, they were bound to
show a particular interest, but if they have been overzealous, believe me, I shall take it up personally with the Minister. And you’re still in your stage clothes? They might at least have allowed you the opportunity to change.”

“Maud, I must say, you rush to judgement—as usual. That Inspector What’s-his-name—”

“Montacute. You did meet him here at dinner soon after you arrived. He was at the other end of the table.”

“Ah, yes. I didn’t take much notice, I’m afraid. I heard he was a policeman and switched off.”

“Montacute. It’s an ancient name—Norman, you know. Are we to assume—the Shropshire Montacutes? Or the Northumberland branch?”

“God Almighty, Maud!” Her outburst made Maud flinch. “Does it matter at a time like this?” Thetis could no longer hide her exasperation. “Norman Montacute, whoever he is, seemed to know his trade and, indeed, he appears quite the gentleman. I’d already decided I liked him as an actor and I even liked him when he finally unmasked himself and revealed the policeman tonight. They are, as you know, no favourites of mine! Several of us were quite impressed with the way he conducted himself. But, in the end, having taken the roll call, the police couldn’t get rid of us fast enough. They said something about contaminating the crime scene as little as possible,” murmured Thetis. “We all had to make our way home as best we could and wearing whatever we were standing up in.”

“You came through the streets in that bloodstained robe? And your stage jewellery? An open invitation to robbers!” Maud was aghast. “And with your sword stuck in your belt, like Boadicea? You might at least have left
that
behind! I’m only surprised they didn’t seize it in evidence.” Her shoulders quivered delicately. “No—don’t sit down yet … all that red paint on you … you’ll ruin the new covers. And I see you couldn’t be bothered to wait in the hall for the boy to dust
down your boots …” And, sighing: “Why don’t you pour yourself a gin and tonic and take it up to your bath with you before supper?”

“I’d rather have a cup of tea, Maud. And I think I’ll give supper a miss if you don’t mind. I’ll confess I’ve had a drink—or two—already. I found myself caught up with a crowd who were heading off for the Grande Bretagne for a quick one to stiffen the sinews.”

Maud tutted her disapproval. “Drinking in mixed company, dressed as you are? And the management tolerated it?”

“There was a fancy dress party passing through the cocktail bar … we blended in,” said Thetis wearily. “My companions were chaps from the British School up the hill. They may have been a bit tiddly but at least they delivered me to my own front doorstep safe in wind and limb. Don’t fuss, Maud. I’ve got a headache. Haven’t got one of your aspirins handy, have you?”

She sank down with a mutinous face onto the sofa, raising a cloud of dust.

Maud got up and tugged at a bell pull.

Making an effort to gather her thoughts, Thetis frowned and asked: “But what were you implying about Andrew when I came in? That he was a target? Whose target? Everyone loved Andrew.”

“Very nearly everyone, I agree. You may find it difficult to imagine, but there
are
people who wouldn’t hesitate to put a dagger in his heart. He wasn’t only and wasn’t always the charming boulevardier. He had his dark secrets.”

“‘Dark secrets,’ Maud? Please stop being so mysterious—I’m too tired for all this. If you have serious suspicions you should confide them to the inspector.”

“Well, I would if I knew what to suspect! A secret is a secret, silly girl! Though perhaps it would be wise to share my
concerns, such as they are.” She collected her thoughts and declared: “It is my opinion that Andrew was the subject
of surveillance
of some sort for the past few weeks. Expert surveillance, I would say, since he confessed himself unaware of it when I mentioned the matter. He claimed he hadn’t remarked the same face of notably Levantine appearance hastily averted in the café on the square whenever we passed by, the presence lurking in the bushes behind the house, the to-ing and fro-ing of a man in a dark felt hat on the pavement in front.” She nodded towards the window which stood half open and added lugubriously: “He may be down there now, as we speak.”

Thetis rolled her eyes in exasperation.
“Expert
, you say? Can’t have been
that
expert if
you
noticed, Maud! And Andrew would feel bound to deny it so as not to scare you. And—
Levantine?
This
is
the Levant, for goodness’ sake! Or very nearly … People
do
have olive complexions and large noses. And had you noticed that half the men in Athens are wearing dark felt hats? It’s October! Now, if you’d spotted a red-haired Scotsman in blue bonnet and furry sporran I might have been intrigued. And look here—if a clandestine killer was waiting his chance to do away with Andrew, then he’s been successful, hasn’t he?” she explained. “I’d say he’d be well advised to make himself scarce and not return like a dog to its vomit. He’s not likely to have done the dirty deed, then come up here to camp out on your doorstep, thumbing his nose at you, is he? Unless
you’re
on his shopping list too, Maud …”

Thetis gasped and put a hand over her mouth. “Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you! That was a really unfeeling remark. But the whole idea is quite ridiculous. And I can reassure you—there was no one skulking about when I got home.”

Further irritated by the exaggeratedly fearful glance Maud cast towards the window and the nervous clutching of the string of pearls at her throat, Thetis got to her feet and stalked
across the room. She threw wide open the tall double panes and leaned out over the low wrought-iron balcony. “… Ninety-nine, one hundred!” she called. “Time’s up! You can come out now! We know where you’re hiding! Show yourself, you villain!”