Page 54 of Deep Blue Lies

FIFTY-THREE

I have another evening shift at Bar Sunset, and I walk down along the road this time.

On the way, as I go past Aetos Diving, I see a figure I recognise in a restaurant, hunched over a laptop.

It’s Gregory Duncan, the writer who I spoke to up in the hills.

He pretends not to see me – or not to recognise me – but I think he does really.

I remember how Sophia told me he sits at this table sometimes to work, so there’s no reason to be concerned by it, but once I walk past I look back, and sure enough I catch him watching me.

He drops his head at once, as if he’s just absorbed in his work, but I know what I saw.

I see Kostas too, working at the back of the dive centre, lifting heavy bottles of compressed air onto a rack as if they were nothing.

He notices me too, but doesn’t try to hide it.

I don’t know what the expression on his face means, but it’s not friendly.

He gives me a curt nod and turns his broad back.

The bar is busy, which is good, because it allows me to just exist and serve customers and clear tables rather than stress over who I am.

It’s just a shame Hans is in a mood with me.

He says I let him down the other day, and if I do it again I’ll be easy to replace.

So it’s nice to know I’m valued. That punctures my mood a bit, and then I’m just unsettled further when Sophia drops by.

She tells me the detective, Papadakis, has agreed to speak.

It’s dark when I finish work, and I glance at the restaurants as I pass by, looking to see if Duncan’s there again. But if he is I don’t see him.

It’s two days before the meeting with Papadakis takes place, during which I stew a little in the growing heat of the island.

But finally I find myself sitting beside Sophia as she drives her mother’s car towards the island capital.

Maria is with us too, sitting in the back.

But the time passed has changed the atmosphere somewhat.

“So what’s he like, this Nikos guy?” Sophia asks, turning to look at Maria.

“I’m not sure. I’ve not seen him in a long time.”

“But you two were what? Like boyfriend and girlfriend, back in school?”

“Absolutely not. Where did you get that impression?”

“So he liked you, and you weren’t interested?” Sophia grins at me, I think she senses that a big part of me doesn’t want to go today, and she’s lightening the mood.

“Well, would that be such a surprise?” Maria answers after a moment. “I was popular enough with the boys when I was younger.”

“Oh I know that,” Sophia answers. “If only I could have inherited your looks.”

Maria stays silent about this until a few minutes later, when she says:

“His house is up here on the left.”

The house is tucked into a narrow backstreet just far enough from Kastria’s main square to escape the noise.

It’s somewhat hidden behind high, whitewashed walls, but an iron gate is open, and inside a cat lies asleep in a shaft of sunlight.

There’s an old-fashioned knocker on the door, which Sophia raps three times.

“Hope he’s here.”

A second later we’re assaulted by a barrage of noise, dogs barking, followed by a man’s voice shouting at them in Greek. The cat wakes up, stretches and wanders away, just before the door opens .

Papadakis is a small man with round glasses, dressed in a loose shirt. He takes his time looking at each of us, his expression unreadable, until his eyes land on Maria.

Then he steps back, opening the door fully.

“Come in quickly, before they get out.”

I’m not quite sure what this means, but we all go inside to a small hallway, which then opens into a bright kitchen – and then I do know, because half the floor is given over to a pen containing a dozen black-and-white puppies, standing on their hind legs, their curled tails wagging furiously.

They climb on each other’s backs, almost clearing the fence that keeps them in place.

“Oh my God,” Sophia says at once, moving there and crouching down. “They’re adorable.”

“They’re a terrible mistake, is what they are,” Papadakis replies. Then he takes Maria’s elbows and lightly kisses her on both cheeks.

“You must be Sophia?” he says to her, then to me, “And the English girl?”

“Ava.” I hold out my hand. He looks at me with warm interest, then shakes my hand.

“How old are they?” Sophia asks, still crouched by the pen, and trying to stroke as many of the puppies as she can at once.

“Six weeks – no, seven,” he corrects himself, watching as she continues to fuss.

“What breed?”

“ Ellinikós Pimenikós ,” – he glances at me – “Greek Shepherd dogs. They used to live among flocks in the mountains, protecting them from wolves, jackals, even bears here, in the old days.”

Sophia pushes her face into the pen, and a dozen pink tongues fight to lick it. The dogs are pretty cute, but I’m feeling too raw to pay much attention.

Papadakis watches for a moment, then says, “These ones will not be facing bears, though. On the mother’s side they are interbred with a Poodle – their coats do not shed. People like that. It is better for families. ”

We watch Sophia a while longer, burying her face in their soft fur.

“I was wondering what you might be getting up to,” Maria says. “Now that you’re retired.”

“I’m enjoying the quiet life.” He lifts his eyebrows ironically. “Can I offer any of you a drink?”

We meet the father of the pups as we wait outside in the courtyard, sitting at an iron table.

He’s about the size of a Labrador, but sturdier and much calmer.

After checking us out he seems content to let us be.

He lies down and falls asleep in the same spot where the cat was.

Papadakis emerges after a while, with a tray containing teapot, cups and saucers.

“In a box, on the table. One of the puppies – the runt of the litter, I think you call it. I’ve separated it from the others, they bully her. If you want you can fetch her,” he says to Sophia, who gets up at once.

He pours the tea as she comes back, holding a floppy-eared pup, its tiny mouth yawning. She sits down with it on her lap.

“So, Maria, you wished to speak to me about the events at the old Aegean Dream Resort, correct?”

“That’s right.” Maria’s eyes widen as she leans forward.

“I heard they’re knocking it down,” Papadakis replies. “Not before time.”

“Quite.” She smiles. “We’re interested in the events that led to its closure.” Maria glances at me to be sure I’m still comfortable. I nod lightly.

“You were in charge of the investigation into the murders?”

“One murder,” he corrects. “One murder, one suicide. But yes. I led the case. A horrible business.”

Maria nods. “Perhaps that’s a place to begin. I’m interested in the rumours – I’m sure you’ve heard them – about whether Jason Wright really was responsible, or whether there was any doubt. Is that something you can speak about?”

Papadakis is still for a moment. “I can tell you our report concluded the former. ”

“But was that really the truth?”

He sits back, holding his cup and saucer and taking a sip of tea. “In just about every investigation I ever participated in, I could never be completely sure what the truth was.”

Maria blinks at him, and it seems she’s unsure what to say next.

“Forgive me, Maria, it’s lovely to see you, but I still don’t exactly understand the purpose of the visit,” Papadakis continues, the smile on his face thinning very slightly. “Are you able to explain your sudden interest in the resort, and what happened there all those years ago?”

She thinks a moment longer, then turns to me.

“Ava was born on the island, just before the resort closed,” Maria replies. “Her mother is English and worked at the hotel. She was sent home after the murders.” She stops.

“I see.”

“Maybe you’d remember her? She has a photo.”

I open my bag and pull out the photograph of my mother and Imogen. I show it to Papadakis, who takes it from me and studies it closely.

“Their names?”

“Karen Whitaker. With the blonde hair. The other girl is Imogen Grant.”

Papadakis studies it a while longer, then shakes his head.

“No, I’m afraid not.” He hands it back to me.

“The rumours about the crime,” Maria continues. “For years I’ve heard that drugs might have been involved? That some aspects of the crime scene didn’t make sense?”

He’s about to answer this when the puppy sits up, shaking its head so that its little ears flap noisily. When it stops Sophia apologises on its behalf. “Oh my God, I didn’t know they did that.”

“You’re not familiar with puppies?” Papadakis asks her.

“Sophia’s always wanted a dog,” Maria cuts in. “But we’ve never had one. My husband was allergic.”

He’s thoughtful a moment, then nods. “I was very sorry to hear about your husband passing away,” he says next, and Maria looks surprised, but smiles quietly.

“Thank you.”

Then Papadakis turns back to her question. “It was a high-profile crime. Rumours were inevitable.”

“But there were problems? With the murder-suicide explanation?”

“Such as?”

“I’m not sure,” – she looks down at the ground – “perhaps that it’s unusual for a man to kill his girlfriend, then himself, but to leave a baby alive?”

“It’s not usual – thankfully – that a man kills his girlfriend at all.”

“But it does happen?” Maria presses. “Even in a quiet place such as Alythos?”

“Infrequently.”

“And when it does, is it normal to leave the baby alive?”

“I think I would agree that it’s less typical, but not unknown.”

“Was there anything else about the crime that struck you as unusual?” Maria asks now. “I know there was a note, but it wasn’t handwritten? It was written on a computer, and then printed out – which anyone could have done?”

“Now you’re really going back.” He seems to think again, but finally replies. “Yes, I seem to remember that was the case.”

“Did that strike you as unusual at the time?”

Papadakis doesn’t answer this, instead he makes himself more comfortable in his chair and draws in a deep breath.

“Maria, you didn’t quite explain why it is you’re asking these questions?”

She looks at him, her brown eyes unblinking.

“OK.”

Then she leans forward. “I’ve already explained to Sophia and Ava here.

I was the one who found the bodies – I know you’ll remember.

But perhaps you never knew that I knew Jason Wright.

Not that well, but I knew him. And it always seemed rather convenient how quickly it was declared that he murdered poor Mandy and then killed himself.

He was a capable, bright man. He’d only been here for a few years, but he’d learned the language.

He seemed to be looking to start a life here.

I even spoke to him, after the baby was born, and he was excited.

Tired? Yes, and under pressure, because it was a big responsibility running that place.

But suddenly he does this terrible thing?

I never quite understood it. Perhaps I never quite believed it. ”

Papadakis strokes his chin, watching her.

“I remember you were delivering vegetables to the resort. When you found them.”

“Yes.”

“Are you still working, by the way?”

“I am.”

“You haven’t thought of retirement?”

“I’ve thought of it. But what would I do?”

“Perhaps you could open a detective agency?” He smiles at his own joke, then glances at Sophia. “Certainly not breed puppies I would hope.” He nods now, tapping a finger against his lips.

“It is true, what you say. There was little to say for certain that it was a murder-suicide and not something else. But the important counterpoint is this: there was also nothing to suggest any other explanation. We searched into Jason’s background, and no one seemed to wish him harm.”

“What about the drugs?”

“What about them? Jason may have used them, but infrequently, a way to wind down. He was certainly not a dealer. There’s no obvious connection.”

Maria frowns at this, like she can’t beat the logic.

“You didn’t find anything else?”

He opens his hands, palm up. “I don’t recall.”

“What about Andreas Kyriakos?”

Papadakis’s easy smile seems to waver at the name. I’ve no idea who he is.

“What about him? ”

“Kyriakos is the Mayor of Alythos,” Maria explains to me. “Or was – the current mayor is his son.” She turns back to Papadakis. “The rumour is that the family are doing very nicely out of the decision to rebuild the site of the hotel?”

“I don’t doubt that for a moment, Maria, but what’s your point? Surely you’re not suggesting Mayor Kyriakos murdered Jason Wright and Mandy Paul in order for his son to receive a backhander over twenty years later?”

“No, I’m asking how well you were able to investigate? Whether Kyriakos put pressure on you to close the investigation quickly, or if you were allowed to do your job properly?”

Papadakis takes a very long time to reply to this. He looks at each of us, Sophia still stroking the puppy on her lap.

“The answer I can give to that is very much off the record.” He waits until Maria nods in agreement at this, and then goes on.

“There was some of that, it’s true. Alythos was then, and still is, dependent upon the flow of tourists.

And there was concern at the time that visitors would be alarmed by the idea of a murderer running around.

It was helpful that the case seemed to have solved itself, the perpetrator already dealt with. ”

“So if you’d had more time,” – Maria leans closer – “if you hadn’t been leaned on, you might have discovered something else?”

He shakes his head at once.

“No. That’s not what I said.” He takes a moment, making a steeple of his fingers.

“Perhaps without that pressure we would have taken a little longer over things. But I’m comfortable that the investigation would have reached the same conclusion.”

He sits back again. His demeanour has changed – less welcoming, more distant.

“Now, I really think it’s fair that you tell me the reason for these questions?”

Maria frowns, I see the frustration on her face, but she nods too. She opens her mouth to speak again, but I stop her with a touch to the knee.

“This is my problem. I’ll say it.”