The Divided Child (28 page)

           
His
smile faded.
 
“So?”

           
"Demetra’s
appointment was at a fertility clinic.”
 
I paused.
 
“I know this is a
rather delicate question, but were your brother and Demetra having trouble
having a child?"

           
"That's
no one's business but their own."
 
His tone was icy.

           
"But
what if she went to that appointment and found out she couldn't have children?”
I said.
 
“She might have been
afraid your brother would divorce her.”

           
"Christine!
 
My brother had his faults, but he was
no Henry VIII.
 
He wouldn't have
divorced Demetra simply because she couldn't give him a child.
 
After all, he already had
Michael."

           
"But
--"

           
"Sorry,”
he said.
 
“You’re barking up the
wrong tree."

           
I
didn’t press further.
 
He was
obviously uncomfortable discussing such an intimate aspect of his brother’s
life, so I let the subject drop.
 
Instead I said, “There’s something else.
 
I’ve been thinking.
 
If the attacks on Michael are related to your brother’s death, then
there’s someone else who might be a suspect.”

           
Now
I had his full attention.
 
“Who?”

           
I
felt a sudden reluctance.
 
After
all, I liked the guy.
 
Still it was
important to consider all the possibilities.
 
“Robert Humphreys.”
 
Seeing Geoffrey’s astonished stare, I added defensively, “Well, he
was
your brother’s lawyer.
 
What if he
was embezzling from your brother and your brother found out about it?”

           
“Robert
is -- was,” Geoffrey grimaced at his error, “one of William’s oldest and
closest friends.
 
He didn’t handle
the business side of my brother’s legal affairs, only the personal ones.
 
He had very little access to my
brother’s money, and my brother always went over his personal accounts very carefully.
 
Robert would never have had a chance to
steal from him.”
 
Suddenly an
arrested look came over his face.
 

           
“Geoffrey?
 
What is it?
 
Have you thought of something?”

           
Slowly
he nodded.
 
Then suddenly he took
my arm, swung me around, and kissed me long and hard.
 

           
“What
was that about?” I demanded breathlessly when he finally set me free.

           
“Consider
it a thank you,” he said. “Robert might not have stolen from my brother, but
you’ve just reminded me that someone else could have.
 
According to Robert, my brother completed an audit of his
foreign holdings right before he died.”

           
“And?”
I asked impatiently, wondering where this was leading.

           
“Spiro
Skouras ran several of my brother’s Greek operations.”

 
          
I
let out a low whistle.
 
“So if your
brother found out Spiro was stealing from him, Spiro might have had a motive
for murder.”

           
“Precisely.
 
It shouldn’t be too hard to find out
the results of the audit.
 
I’ll
look into it after I see Elizabeth.”

           
Reminded
of the imminent reunion, I fell silent, but Geoffrey, caught up in his own
thoughts, didn’t notice.
 
The alley
we had entered was narrow and empty of the signs of commerce.
 
I was beginning to wonder if we were
lost, when we emerged into a small and pretty courtyard surrounded by six
buildings in the Venetian style, each with moldings carefully restored, paint
freshly applied, shutters brightly colored, and banners fluttering in the wind.

           
The
first floor of each building was occupied by an exclusive-looking
boutique.
 
Geoffrey led me past a
burbling fountain to the nearest of the six.
 
I gazed through the window at the handbags, attaché cases,
and suitcases carefully displayed and agreed with his assessment; they were
beautiful.
 
They also looked
terribly expensive.
 
I tried to
pull back, but Geoffrey was already through the door and drawing me along with
him.

           
The
well-dressed saleswoman was elegant and aloof.
 
She remained seated at her small mahogany escritoire,
acknowledging our entrance with a small inclination of her head.
 
Geoffrey began browsing through the
displays.

           
"What
about this one?" he asked, lightly tapping a handbag that was
superficially similar to my old one, but which had better lines, richer color,
and leather that was both soft and supple.

           
"It's
lovely," I admitted, running my fingers over it, "but I suspect it's
out of my price range."

           
Geoffrey
glanced at the silver tag tied to the strap, then walked over to the woman at
the desk.
 
As he spoke, her
expression became less frigid, and after he'd finished, she rose and
disappeared into the back room.
 
She returned with a large silver box and sheets of tissue paper
imprinted with the store's name.

           
Nervously,
I twisted the silver tag to see the price written there.
 
Swearing under my breath, I set the
purse down on the counter and retreated toward Geoffrey.

           
"I
can't afford to spend that kind of money on a purse!"

           
"You
like the thing, don't you?"

           
"Of
course I like it.
 
I love it!
 
But that doesn't mean I can afford to
buy it.
 
You shouldn't have told
her I would!"

           
"I
didn't."

           
"Then
why is she wrapping it up?"

           
"Because
a gift should always come wrapped."

           
I
stared at him.
 
"A gift?
 
But, Geoffrey, you can't!
 
It's much too expensive."

           
His
jaw set in a stiff line.
 
"If you
don't feel comfortable accepting it as a gift, think of it as partial
reimbursement for the damage done to your things last night."

           
"But
everything together wouldn't have cost this much!
 
Besides, why should you be the one to pay?"

           
"For
heaven's sake, Christine!
 
Don't
you think I owe you this much at least?"

           
I
wondered if he wanted to buy me a lavish gift so he could say goodbye with a
clear conscience.
 
"You don't
owe me anything."

           
"Why
is it so difficult for you to accept this from me?
 
You don't appear to have any difficulty accepting any number
of things from Skouras."

           
"I
suppose you never had trouble getting Elizabeth to accept expensive
gifts," I countered.

           
"At
the time I first knew Elizabeth," he said slowly, "I wasn't able to
afford gifts, expensive or otherwise.
 
My brother, however, had no such difficulty, and you're right.
  
He had no trouble persuading her
to accept the best money could buy."

           
I
stood there desperately wishing I'd kept my mouth shut.
 
"Geoffrey, I'm sorry.
 
I didn't mean --"

           
The
saleswoman had been hovering impatiently in the background.
 
She came forward now, carrying the
wrapped purse in one hand and the handwritten bill of sale in the other.
 
With an angry shake of his head,
Geoffrey informed her the sale was off.
 
"The lady has changed her mind," he snapped.
 
Then he turned and left the shop,
leaving the two of us to stare after him in dismay.

Chapter Fourteen

           
The
Esplanade was full of people, but there was little bustle or even movement in
the sun-drenched square.
 
Shops had
closed, the last air-conditioned buses loaded with tourists were pulling out on
their way to distant beaches, and native Corfiotes sat sipping drinks at café
tables under the trees.
 
I strolled
along the Liston, the arcade lining the square, where most of the cafés are
located, and scanned the seated throng for Spiro.

           
I
was gazing at the last clump of tables, well shaded under a large plane tree,
when I finally spotted him.
 
To my
astonishment, Michael was sitting next to him.
 
"Well, this is a pleasant surprise,” I said as I
approached the table.

           
"I
thought it might please you," Spiro remarked.

           
"Are
you thirsty, Miss Stewart?" Michael asked.
 
"We can vouch for the lemonade: it's quite good."

           
"We?"
I said, surprised to note the empty lemonade bottle by Spiro's glass.

           
Spiro
raised an eyebrow.
 
"And here
I assured you I meant to reform after last night.
 
I see I must do more to assure you of my good intentions.
 
Let me see.
 
Perhaps an excursion to the western coast?
 
Maria has packed a lunch, and after we
eat we can make a swim.
 
I know a
beautiful beach not so crowded with tourists."

           
"But
I don't have a swimsuit with me," I said.

           
"Ah,
but you see, Maria was kind enough to pack one for you, so we will not need to seek
out one of those naked beaches that the tourists love so much."
 
He flashed me a look, and I knew he was
thinking of the previous night.
 
"Well, what is your decision?
 
Does such an expedition appeal to you?"

           
I
was still smarting from my clash with Geoffrey and wanted to go off by myself
and mope, but I wasn't the only one involved.
 
This was a chance for Michael to get out and have some
fun.
 
One look at his eager face
and all I could say was, "It sounds wonderful."

           
Our
drive across the island was, by Spiro's normal standards, sedate, and we had a
chance to enjoy the pretty scenery.
 
Near Paleokastritsa, we turned north, toward hills covered with olive
trees.
 
The road narrowed, twining
its way through small villages and across long stretches of open country.
 
It was almost three before we finally
arrived at the small town of Agios Stephanos, which was set on a curved bay
with a lovely sand beach.

           
To
my surprise, however, the Lamborghini did not head toward the water, but
instead climbed a gravel road up to the cliffs above the bay.
 
I was about to ask Spiro where we were
going, when we turned into the driveway of a small white house and stopped.

           
"The
home of a friend who is away on business," Spiro explained, as he came
around to help me out of the car.
 
"We will eat here and change before we go down to make our
swim."

           
We
could see the beach from the patio where we ate our lunch, and I marvelled at
how different it looked from the one at
Ithaki
.
 
Instead of grey shingle, arching pines,
and water the color of lapis lazuli, this beach was bleached and treeless, the
warm, golden sand stretching in a gently-curving arc next to water the color of
milky-turquoise.

           
After
lunch, Spiro disappeared into the house and reappeared with a small gold foil
box which he set down on the table with a flourish.
 
"Look what I have found," he said, casting a
sidelong glance at Michael, "a box of chocolates from
Evyeneia
.
 
Shall we open it?"
 
Without waiting for an answer he lifted
off the lid, revealing three short rows of the most delectable looking
chocolates I'd ever seen.
 
Their
aroma wafted up into the air and smacked me right in the nose.
 
Spiro saw my look and smiled.
 
"The chocolates of
Evyeneia
are famous throughout the island, Christine."

           
"I
can understand why," I murmured raptly.