1 The Assassins' Village (29 page)

Chapter 41. Past shames.

Finger of birth-strangled babe ditch-deliver’d by a drab.

Macbeth. Act 4 Scene 1

Steve was shaken. Reading what he had deciphered that morning, his feelings turned to anger and disgust. No one had really known Leslie. All the innuendo and half whispered stories were true and more. Could someone really be such a louse and live in a close-knit community?
And
get away with all this?

White-lipped with anger Steve scanned through his notes. Leslie had been exceedingly clever at having Bernard fleeced, and blackmailing Tony. If what Steve had found was correct, then Leslie had made a tidy sum out of them. Looking at the entry that was titled:
Tilly the perfect Lay,
Leslie had quite graphically recorded their times together. Alicia was treated to the most offensive language imaginable as he accused her with
infanticide
! Shocking! And even his wife Sonja hadn’t escaped his horrible slander. He slagged off quite a few of the village Cypriots, among them Kristiakis and Yanoulla. Karl he accused of being an effeminate coward during his time in the army.

Steve dropped the book onto the tabletop. On face value Leslie seemed the perfect, well spoken English Gentleman. He and Diana hadn’t known him well; they weren’t keen on gossip, preferring to draw their own conclusions. How wrong they had been. The man was an absolute creep! No. He was far more than that.

Scanning through Leslie’s tightly-knit handwriting, Steve discovered that not only had he made almost everyone’s life in the village a misery, but his evil dated back years and years. There were well over thirty unfortunate names recorded. The first went back to the late sixties. Leslie had been an absolute bastard for most of his life! Steve could only sit there and wonder why he hadn’t been murdered long before now. It was almost like reading an Agatha Christie novel. Which was the one where more than a handful of people all took a turn to stab the victim? Was it ‘
Murder on the Orient Express or Death on The Nile’
? Diana would know.

Steve needed to share this vile information with someone. His wife was the only one he could really trust. She’d been involved in this from the beginning and deserved to know everything. She had been right with so many of the clues. What was more, because of what he had just discovered she
had
to know everything. He wondered if she would believe him when he told her of his suspicions. He needed to get Di home as soon as possible. He also needed to call the police.

Glancing at his watch, he saw that it was approaching half past twelve. Diana had gone out for some exercise to clear her head. She had been up since four am writing her final chapters. As yet he hadn’t read any of it.

Deciding to give her a ring, he pressed the speed-dial for her mobile number, waited and gave an irritated shake of his head when the recorded voice told him the number was unavailable.
Where
was she? There was a good connection almost everywhere in the village. The only places mobiles didn’t work were under RSJ’s and outside the village, such as down in the river valley. Surely she wouldn’t have gone that far this morning?

Steve waited a while and then re-dialled. The recorded voice again. It was now nearly one o’clock. What was she doing? Concerned, he glanced out of the window. The air looked oppressive. Over the Troodos Mountains, large black clouds were
gathering, lit by the first flicker of lightning. It looked like they were in for a monster of a storm. One eye on his watch, and grabbing two waterproof jackets from their wall hooks, Steve decided to go and look for her.

Steve did a quick tour of the village, reversing the favourite route Diana usually took. He passed
The Magic Teapot
only pausing to ask if they had seen Diana that morning. Geraldine replied that she seen her in the distance, up near Antigone’s old place. Busily emptying the dishwasher and restacking the shelves with clean glasses, Geraldine stopped as she had a sudden thought.

‘You’re not the only one looking for her. Alicia came past here asking the same thing. She seemed in a bit of a hurry as she wouldn’t stay for a chat. She doesn’t change does she? Looking tight-lipped, and forever wearing the same outlandish clothes and carrying that old leather bag. Makes you wonder what she has in it.’ She paused to give a wipe to a smeared glass.  

‘Now to change the subject, don’t forget we’ve got a special evening here tonight. George, our favourite guitarist is over from the UK and is giving a free concert starting at eight thirty. You’ll need to get here early if you want a good table. We’re doing chicken kebabs and salad for six euros too if you’re feeling peckish! It should be a good night,’ she said giving him a huge beam. ‘Do come. Roy and I are dying to hear about what’s been happening while we’ve been in England! And I thought this was such a
quiet
village.’

Steve nodded and agreed they’d be there. He hardly took in what she’d just said. He began to feel very uneasy as thoughts whirled around in his head. Di would have noticed the change in the weather. She should be back by now. Why was Alicia looking for her? What could she possibly have to say to Diana? He thought she’d said enough when Di had recently visited her. She had come home upset.
Unless,
it was to do with Di’s visit. Steve blanched.

He sped up the lane leading to Antigone’s place. The gate was ajar, but the door to the house was shut. The lightning flashed over the hills. He hesitated only a moment before entering the courtyard and knocking on the door. There was no answer, but his knock had dislodged the door latch and the door creaked open. He ducked his head inside and called hello. There was no answer. He gave the room a glance and shuddered at the sparseness. It smelt musty, with a dejected air about it. Lying on the table was a tiny woollen jacket and shawl knitted in white. He quickly dismissed the empty house and stepped back into the lane. He’d give Di’s mobile one more try he thought. The phone rang and rang. As he was about to give up there was a faint answering voice.

‘Steve!’

‘Di! Where are you?’

‘Down near the old house, you know the one by the river. We’re nearly there.’

‘
We
? Who’s with you? Alicia? Di, can you come back, right now?’ A note of panic crept into his voice.

‘No, I’m not with Alicia.’

With a flare of relief at her reply Steve interrupted her before she could say more. ‘Good. She’s looking for you. Listen. I’ve deciphered the remainder of the book.’

‘Great. Can we talk about it later when I get back? I probably won’t be long as we’re nearly there.’

‘LISTEN!’ he bellowed. ‘If Alicia turns up I don’t want you anywhere near her.’

‘Why?’ She sounded wary.

‘Because of what I’ve just read! I am convinced that she throttled Leslie with her Punjab Lasso. Leslie wasn’t killed with a knife. He was garrotted, and I’m sure she did it. What’s more, I think she did the same to Kristiakis. Then she covered it up to look like he hanged himself. What did we read the other day in that book you’ve been using for research?
That a murderer can cover up a ligature strangling with a post mortem hanging.
She’s really dangerous and she knows
you know about the lasso
. You said she didn’t want to discuss it. Leslie has some awful things to say about her past life in his book. Please come home now before she finds you. You are in great danger,’ he pleaded.

‘Darling, I’m okay really. Alicia is nowhere in sight. Beside I’m not alone. I have Antigone here with me.’

This was becoming quite insane. What was his wife doing, wandering around the countryside with a half-witted goatherd and cheese maker?

‘I don’t care who you have with you. I want you back here. I’m coming down after you,’ he said firmly.

‘Please, it’s not necessary. I’m quite all right. Look, don’t worry. I’ll not let Alicia get anywhere near me. I’m sure Antigone will come back with me if I ask her.’

‘I just want you here with me. Besides you don’t know the rest yet. Did you know about Antigone and …’ The phone chirped as it lost the signal. Giving a loud exclamation and swearing in disgust, Steve tried to dial again but Di must have carried on walking into the dead area near the valley bottom. With renewed alarm Steve began to run down the loose-stoned track.

~~~

Rounding the bend in the lane, the old house loomed in front of Diana and Antigone. They approached the tumbledown outer walls, as a huge flash of forked lightning followed by an almighty crack of thunder rent the air. Diana jumped in fright at the deafening noise, but Antigone appeared not to be worried by the pending storm. She carried on walking until she reached the doorway.

There was another flash and an enormous clap of thunder. The air felt heavy and swollen with the promise of a downpour.

Stepping inside, Diana followed Antigone. Di experienced a sudden strange feeling, almost as if she was entering another world. The air grew softer, cooler and almost tangible. The storm, raging outside faded to a low growl that was hardly noticeable.

Diana looked around the shadowed space; it couldn’t be described as a room as most of the roof and walls had fallen in. Muck and debris was everywhere. Antigone crunched across the rubble to one corner. Crouching down, she began to scrape aside some of the loose stones and earth from the floor. She stopped and beckoned Diana to join her. As Diana approached the spot she saw what appeared to be a small trapdoor. Despite Steve’s warning about Alicia and getting back to him, Diana felt drawn to the space. She was intrigued and desperately wanted to know what secret Antigone was about to show her. She watched, as Antigone knelt down, took hold of a small rusty ring embedded in the trapdoor and pulled.

Diana took a tentative step forward as there was another flash from the heavens.

A dry, musty animal smell reached her nostrils as she leant over. Immediately Diana thought of mice and rats. The opening was small, but large enough for a person to go through and the natural light was sufficient for Diana to make out a flight of four or five crude, narrow steps leading to a tiny crypt of a room. It was quite empty except for an oblong shaped wooden-box about half a metre long. The rough box looked like it contained nothing but sand and a small bundle of rags.

‘
Ella
. Come,’ Antigone said, beckoning her to walk down the steps and join her in the small space below.

Diana felt her heart thumping.

Despite being completely mystified, Diana had watched enough horror films and the X Files series, to know that
no one
should go down a flight of steps into a cellar, and especially if there was no electric light. Remaining where she was at the top, she watched Antigone descend further.

‘Come, come,’ she repeated with some agitation and waved an arm.

‘No.
Endaxi
. I’m okay here. What do you want to show me?’

For an answer, Antigone picked up the rag bundle from the box and unwrapped one end. As she did so, a gigantic flash of lightning lit the room and Diana caught the look of complete rapture upon her face. A crash of thunder shook the walls, the sound reverberating around the house.

‘See! Saint Maria.’ Antigone proudly held the bundle up towards Diana for approval.

Peering down, Diana caught her breath with horror. Nestled in the swaddling bands she saw a wizened little face, a mummy; skin and flesh shrunken but preserved. Recoiling with shock, Diana took a step backwards and slipped over in the rubble under her feet. She felt herself go hot and cold, her skin clammy and her heart hammered in her chest. Finding it hard to breath, she fought to regain control, and hot, sour vomit rushed up into her throat. She blanched and turned aside. The whole thing was gruesome.

Her body gradually quietened as thoughts raced through her mind. Antigone had a
baby
in her arms, if you could call a mummified infant a baby. Stealing another look at it, Diana was repulsed to discover that the child’s limbs were shrunken; too small to have functioned even if it had matured. Her original repulsion was replaced by an infinite sadness. When had all this occurred? How on earth had she managed to keep it in that condition? A dozen questions raced around her mind as she forced herself to look at Antigone. She took a deep breath and stood up. She understood nothing.

‘Antigone, this baby - is it yours?’

‘Yes. Of course she is.’

‘But who is the father? And why is it still here. Not,’ she paused unsure how to put this delicate question. ‘Not buried.’

Antigone looked affronted at the question.

‘Buried? Why? Is this not proof she is a saint? She is
preserved
like all saints.’

Oh good God! Diana thought. Antigone was under the impression that as her baby had somehow been preserved, and her flesh had not become corrupted, then she was a real saint. Just like all the other saints in the Catholic and Eastern Orthodox Church. As far as Antigone was concerned it was all quite natural. But how grisly!

Diana couldn’t stop herself shivering with the thought of it all. How long had she kept this infant down here?  Diana knew a little about mummification after visiting Egypt last year with Steve. That country was the master of the process, but it was usually achieved through the use of chemicals, although there were some natural processes, like long time burial in ice or tar pits. She could only assume that somehow, Antigone had buried her infant in sand when it had died, and this had caused a natural mummification. Hot dry sand would have absorbed the baby’s fluids resulting in a retardation of decomposition and a desiccated body. It was all quite macabre.