The Moonspinners (28 page)

‘This morning? We were there, Frances and I.'

‘I know. He saw you both at one of the windmills. Was that the one?' He smiled. ‘There's irony for you. He saw you go in, so he didn't bother about that one; he just hung around till you'd gone, and the Greek woman, then broke into the other mill. And found nothing, of course. Then he made his way back to me. That was all. A fine, useless effort.'

‘I begin to see why this is such good guerilla country. If it hadn't been so awful it would be comic – the whole boiling of us climbing about on the mountain, with never a glimpse of each other. Was it you who fired a shot?'

‘Yes, to guide Lambis to me. A shot's safer than shouting; it's a sound one takes for granted in the country. Did that frighten you, too?'

I shook my head, but said nothing. I wasn't going to explain to Mark that the shot had been the least of my worries at the time. I stuffed the handkerchief away into my pocket, rubbed the back of my hand hard over my eyes, and smiled at him.

‘All right now!' he said gently.

‘Of course.'

‘That's my girl.' His arm came round me again in a quick, hard hug, then let me go. ‘Now come back with me, and we'll have our council of war.'

Colin and Lambis were sitting by the bushes that edged the hollow. They had chosen a flat little clearing, where the small flowers grew, and baby cypresses like thin dark fingers pointed up through the green. These smelt delicious in the hot sunshine. Below us, the bank was thick with the creamy rock roses. The track wound down through them, to disappear among the folded ridges that marked the coast. Here and there, a gap showed a blinding wedge of sea.

As we came up, Colin was laughing at something Lambis had said. The haversack was open between them, and Colin was already rootling purposefully through what food was there. He waved my wine bottle at Mark as we approached.

‘Hurry up, Marco Polo, if you want any of this. It's nearly all gone.'

‘Then I suggest you leave some for Nicola. Where'd you get it, anyway?'

‘She brought it.'

‘Then most certainly she ought to drink it. Hand it over. Here, Nicola, have some now.'

‘It was for you,' I said.

‘“My wine is dew of the wild white rose”,' misquoted Mark, ‘and what could be nastier, come to think of it? No, really, I'm getting almost used to water; drink it yourself.'

As I obeyed, I saw Colin grin at Lambis' puzzled look. ‘Don't listen to Mark. That was just Keats. Go on, Lambis, this one's a classic, say “What are Keats?”'

Lambis grinned. It was obvious that he was used to being Colin's butt, and for the moment the two of them seemed much of an age. Lambis, like the others, looked quite different; much younger, and with the heavy, sullen set gone from his mouth. I realized that it had been put there by worry, and felt more than ever ashamed.

‘Well,' he was saying placidly, ‘what are they?'

Colin opened his mouth to whoop with mirth, then quickly shut it again. ‘So I should think,' said his brother. ‘If you did but know it, Lambis' English is a damn' sight better than yours. The Lord alone knows where you get it, things must have changed a lot since I was at that Borstal of yours myself. A Borstal—' to Lambis – ‘is an English school. Now, attention all, this is serious, and we haven't a lot of time. Nicola, here's a place to sit.'

As the Greek moved aside to make room for me, I smiled at him a little shyly. ‘Lambis, I ought to have known. I'm sorry, I truly am. It was only because we'd had such a shock, Colin and I . . . and I honestly couldn't imagine who else
could
be buried there. And then there were the clothes. I said some awful things. Can you forgive me?'

‘It does not matter. You were a little disturbed with seeing the dead body. Such things are not nice for ladies.' And on this masterly piece of understatement Lambis grinned amiably, and dismissed the matter.

‘Well,' said Mark crisply, taking charge, ‘we can't keep you very long, so if you could bear to start . . .'

I said: ‘I've been thinking. I really think you'd better hear Colin's side of it first. One or two things he overheard, when he was actually in the lions' den, seem to provide a clue to the rest.'

So Colin told them the story he had told to me, and afterwards Mark – a rather grimmer-faced Mark – detailed him to keep a lookout with the field glasses, while he and Lambis turned back to me.

‘I don't know quite where to start' – I felt suddenly shy – ‘because a lot of it may mean nothing. Shall I just try to tell you more or less all that's happened, and let you draw conclusions?'

‘Please. Even if it's irrelevant.'

‘
Oriste?
' from Lambis.

‘Even if it's rot,' translated Colin, over his shoulder.

‘Even if it doesn't seem to matter,' amended his brother. ‘Don't take any notice of the brat, Lambis, he's above himself.'

‘And that,' said Colin, ‘is an idiom, meaning—'

‘Belt up or I'll do you,' said Mark, coming down to Colin's level with a rush. ‘Nicola?'

I told them then, as briefly as I could, all that had happened since I had left the mountainside on the previous day. When I had finished, there was silence for perhaps a minute.

Then Mark said, slowly: ‘It makes a picture, of a sort. I'll try to sum up, shall I, from the fragments we've got? I think you were right – the bits that Colin overheard provide the clue to the rest. The main thing is, that something Stratos had, and had promised to divide later, was “hot”.' He glanced at Lambis. ‘That's a slang expression – thieves' language, if you like. It means that they had stolen property in their possession, which the police were on the lookout for, and which could be identified if found.'

‘In the plural,' I said. ‘“They” were hot.'

‘Yes, in the plural. Things small enough, in the plural, to be portable; small enough to come through the Customs (we'll look at that later, but we can assume they brought them from London); things small enough to hide, even in Agios Georgios.'

‘Jewels?' suggested Colin, bright-eyed. I could see that, for him, this was becoming simply an adventure – something with a happy ending already settled by his brother's presence, to be stored up, and talked about next term at school. At least, I thought thankfully, he didn't seem the type to store up nightmares.

Mark saw it too. He gave Colin a fleeting grin. ‘All the treasures of the East, why not? But I'm afraid it doesn't really matter terribly what it is . . . for the moment, anyway. All
we
need is a coherent story that we can present to the Consul and the police in Athens . . . something that'll tie Stratos and Co. up good and hard with Alexandros' murder. Once that's done, our end of the story'll be accepted, however many alibis are cooked up in Agios Georgios. If we can establish the fact that Josef was a criminal and a murderer, then Lambis will get away with justifiable homicide, or self-defence, or whatever they do get away with here. And that's all I'm bothered with just now. He wouldn't be in this mess, but for us, and all I care about is to see he gets clear out of it.'

Lambis glanced up, caught my eye, and grinned. He had his knife out, and was whittling away at a curly piece of wood, carving it to a shape that looked like a lizard. I watched, fascinated, as it began to take shape.

Mark went on: ‘Now, it's the London end of it that'll give us the connection . . . Colin heard them say that any investigation would “get back to the London affair”. This is what's valuable – we can be sure the connection between Stratos and the murdered man is originally a London one, and it sounds to me as if the London police are on the job already – or have been. The stuff was “hot”, after all.' He paused. ‘Let's see how much we can assume. Stratos and Tony came from London six months ago, and brought with them this “hot” stolen property. They have arranged to settle here, probably until the hue and cry has died down; then Tony will take his share, and go. They must have intended to leave England anyway, since Stratos apparently wound up his affairs, and what better cover could they have than Stratos' own home, where he'd come naturally, and where Tony might very well come to help him start up his business? You know—' looking up ‘—it does sound as if the loot, whatever it is, must be pretty considerable.'

‘You mean because it's worth a long wait.'

‘Exactly. You can't tell me your friend Tony wants to spend years of his life in Agios Georgios. Do you think for one minute that that tin-pot hotel is worth his while?'

‘Oh, it's a change from the dear old Vicarage,' I said.

‘“The loot,”' said Lambis. ‘What is that?'

‘The swag,' said Colin. ‘The lolly, the pickings, the—'

Lambis put a hand to the side of his head, and pushed him over into a rosemary bush.

‘The stolen property,' I said, laughing.

‘Order, children,' said Mark. ‘Stratos and Tony, then, are concerned in some crime in London, presumably a top-flight robbery. They blind off with the – they leave the country with the stolen property (how good you are for us, Lambis) and settle down here to wait. Stratos must be the leader, or senior partner, since he has the stuff hidden away, and Tony doesn't know where it is. Then we come to Alexandros.'

‘He came looking for Stratos,' I said. ‘He knew Tony, and talked English to him, and Tony took him along to meet Stratos. I'll bet Alexandros came from London, too.'

Colin rolled over eagerly. ‘He was their partner in the robbery, and they did him down, and he came to claim his share, so they murdered him!'

‘Could be,' said Mark, ‘but Stratos did appear quite happy to cut his sister in on the deal – I mean, divide the, er—'

‘Loot,' said Lambis.

‘—the loot with his sister. So it doesn't seem likely that he'd murder a partner just because he claimed his share. Tony doesn't seem to think there's much risk, anyway.'

I said, hesitantly; ‘Couldn't it be quite simple – that it did happen much as Colin says, but that they did quarrel, and Stratos just lost his temper? I'll swear he's that kind of man; one of those big, full-blooded toughies –
pallikaráthes
, Lambis – who can suddenly lose all their self-control, and who're strong enough to do a lot of damage when they do. And in a country where everybody carries guns as a matter of course . . . Mark, you saw the actual murder. You said they were shouting. Wasn't it done like that?'

‘Well, yes, it was. They were arguing violently, then the whole thing seemed to explode . . . but don't ask me who exploded first, or how. The murder does seem likely to have its roots back in something that happened in London; this “affair”, whatever it is, that they're so afraid is going to catch them up. Apparently that, let alone the Alexandros murder, is serious enough to frighten them into a dashed silly action like taking Colin along. I imagine that Stratos probably – and Tony certainly – hold British passports. It would be interesting to know if we have an extradition treaty with Greece.'

‘I can tell you that,' I said. ‘We have.'

‘Ah,' said Mark. He glanced at his watch. ‘Let's cut this short. I think we've got all we need. We can give the police a lead to Stratos and Co. long before they suspect we're even operative. It shouldn't be hard for the London end to identify a couple of Soho Greeks and a – well, Tony; they're probably marked down as “wanted” anyway, only they've just not traced them. Then, if the police here slap a watch on to them immediately, they may find the stuff . . . and there's your connection, your motive . . .
and
Lambis in the clear for attacking a potential murderer.'

‘The police'll have to be quick,' I said uneasily. ‘Stratos must know Colin'd go straight for help.'

‘If he knows he's escaped. But if Colin was right – and I think he was – then they did mean to kill him, and Sofia knew this. She may let Stratos think Colin has been disposed of. We can't count on it, but she might keep her mouth shut for a while, for her own sake. Stratos'll worry about where Josef has got to, but I doubt if – yet – he'll take the desperate step of bolting from Agios Georgios.

‘If I were Stratos,' I said, ‘I'd shift the body – Alexandros', I mean – just in case of an enquiry. It was silly to bury it on their own land.'

‘If you'd tried burying someone up here in four inches of dust,' said Mark, ‘you'd see their point. But I agree. He very well may. The fact that they put him there at all might mean that they didn't intend Colin to get away, after what he'd seen and heard.'

‘They
were
going to kill me?'

‘I don't see how else they'd be safe,' said Mark frankly. ‘They could be fairly sure I was lying dead somewhere. Without Lambis, I would have been. You can be sure they were only waiting for definite news of me. Even if Sofia had persuaded Stratos to let you alone, she must have known she couldn't protect you for ever . . . not from the kind of man Josef appears to have been, anyway . . . so she decided to let you go.'

Colin looked anxious. ‘Will she be all right when they do find out I've gone?'

Mark glanced at me.

I said slowly: ‘I'm sure Stratos wouldn't harm her, even if he dared. I've been thinking about it, and I don't think you need worry seriously. He might hit her in a temper, but he'd never kill her. And she's used to rough treatment, poor soul. What's more, the fact that she did save you, may save
her
from quite a lot, once the police inquiries get going.' I glanced at Lambis. ‘And you . . . you can be pretty sure she'll be happier and better off as a widow than she ever has been since she married that beastly waster.'