Angel of Death (16 page)

She paused, flushed and breathing fast, to stare at him as he pushed open the gate, which whined and creaked like an old dog.

‘Mrs Knox?’

She nodded, pushing a lock of fine-spun silvery hair back from her forehead.

She was amazingly attractive for a woman of her age, he thought, staring at the brightness of her eyes, the warm tones of her skin, her slim, active figure.

Terry hesitated to tell her his own name. He had no idea how much Miranda, or the police, would have told her.

‘Is Miranda here?’

‘No,’ she said and suddenly there was frost on her voice. ‘Who are you?’

He couldn’t refuse to answer. ‘Terry Finnigan, I was Miranda’s boss.’ He held out the flowers in what he felt, himself, to be a pathetic attempt to placate her. ‘I happened to be down in the west, so I thought I would look her up, see how she was, and I brought her these.’

Dorothy Knox made no move to take them. Her face had become cold, hostile. ‘Well, she isn’t here, and before you ask, I don’t know where she is. If I did, I wouldn’t tell you. I know about you and your son.’ She put a hand up to her head. ‘I still have the scars to remind me.’

Terry ground his teeth. He had forgotten what had happened to her. ‘Look, I’m sorry for what happened to Miranda, and to you, too, but I wasn’t responsible, I assure you. I haven’t done anything to either of you.’

‘Your son did! If you have any decency, you’ll stay away from my daughter. The police won’t be too pleased to hear that you’ve been here, looking for her. And I will tell them, don’t worry. She’s under police protection, so don’t bother searching for her. Even if you found her you wouldn’t get near her. Now, I’m very busy, so please go away and don’t come back.’

Flustered, he protested, ‘Look, I’m sorry, honestly, that you got hurt. I just want a chance to . . .’

She lifted the hoe she was using, poised to use it if he came any nearer. ‘Clear off. I don’t want you here.’

A car was progressing along the country road towards them. Dorothy glanced at it, her face lighting up. ‘Here’s my friend. He’s a policeman, he’ll soon deal with you.’

Terry looked round as the battered red car stopped at the gate. The man getting out was in his sixties but he had a wiry, faintly belligerent look that would, recognised Terry, make him something of a problem in a struggle.

‘Go on, get out,’ Dorothy said. ‘Before Freddy throws you out. He’s a lot tougher than you think you are, believe me.’ Her eyes were contemptuous.

Terry didn’t try to argue or plead; he just slunk away, passing Freddy at the gate without meeting his stare.

‘Who’s he?’ he heard Freddy ask.

Terry dived into his car and drove off before Freddy could catch up with him. He wasn’t afraid of the man, simply reluctant to get into a fight and perhaps attract police attention.

Back home, he found Sean lying on a sofa in a towelling robe, his hair wet from a swim in the pool, listening to deafening rock while he cut his toenails. Terry looked at him with a mixture of despair and disgust, then walked over and turned the music off.

‘Hey!’ Sean began then stopped at the glare he got. ‘What’s the matter with you now? You’re always on my case these days. This is the weekend. Don’t I deserve a bit of peace on a Sunday morning?’

‘Have you seen Nicola this weekend?’

‘Yes, we had dinner and went on to a club last night, then I drove her home at midnight. Her dad insists she’s in by then, old-fashioned git. Where were you last night? Don’t tell me you picked up a woman?’

‘I was doing what you should have done. Looking for Miranda,’ his father bit out with scorn. ‘She’s out of hospital, but she’s gone underground, and I’m told she has police protection. I went down to Dorset to find her mother and got warned off.’ He was still burning over the way Dorothy Knox had spoken to him.

Sean ran a hand through his springy, wet, blond hair. ‘Maybe a chick would find out more – why don’t I get one of my birds to look around? Chat people up. Even the filth get friendly with a pretty girl.’

Terry frowned. ‘What the hell d’yer mean, one of your birds! Don’t you ever learn? You’re supposed to be engaged to Nicola. You shouldn’t be seeing any other women. You don’t have any common sense, do yer? Grow up, for God’s sake.’

Even his accent was deteriorating and his son noticed it, giving him a startled look.

‘OK, OK – but shall I get someone to ask around, or not?’

Terry didn’t even answer. He was staring out of the window, thinking hard, facing facts.

Sean had mentioned the police and that was a source that could be tapped, although not by Sean, who wouldn’t know how. Or by Terry himself. He dared not risk approaching them. He was going to have to talk to some of his old friends. He had not seen them for years, had stayed well clear of them not wanting to be tarred by that particular brush, but Sean was forcing him to get involved again. They were men who had contacts he no longer had. They had friends in the police force. Friends who were on the payroll and who could be persuaded or blackmailed into finding out information.

Somehow he had to find Miranda, get to her. She was dangerous to him, and to Sean. She had to be silenced. Whatever the cost.

‘
Kaleemera!
’ Miranda said to the waitress at breakfast next day and was given a smiling ‘Good morning!’ back in English.

As she sat down at the table she had sat at last night the girl asked her: ‘
O kafes?
American?
Eleeneeko?
’

She dimly understood the question. ‘American, please.’ Greek coffee was great after dinner, but far too strong and far too small at breakfast.

A basket of rolls and croissants stood in the middle of the table with a tray of butter, jam, marmalade and honey. The waitress indicated a buffet table and rattled off some more Greek. Miranda didn’t grasp a single word of it, but she got the general drift, and went to the buffet table to investigate the choices. It all looked delicious.

Fruit juices – grape, orange, cranberry. Lots of fresh fruit; grapes, peaches, berries, piled high. Yoghurts in a chilled cabinet. A covered hot dish in which she found scrambled egg and crispy bacon. Cheeses of various kinds, including a very soft white one over which she noticed another guest trickling smoky, golden Greek honey.

She took some cranberry juice, grapes and yoghurt and returned to her table. The coffee arrived, but it was not the waitress who brought it.

‘
Kaleemera!
’ Milo said, smiling at her in that paternalistic way of his. ‘I hear you already speak Greek.’

Going pink, she shook her head. ‘I picked up a couple of words from my phrase book.’

‘I suspected as much. But you impressed Sophie. She’s now convinced you speak fluent Greek.’

‘Oh, dear,’ groaned Miranda. ‘Will you explain for me?’

‘Yes, but, remember, a journey of a thousand miles begins with the first step. If you learn a few words a day you’ll soon be speaking Greek like a native.’

‘I intend to learn as much as I can, while I’m here. Have you heard how Pandora is this morning?’

‘She and her husband had their breakfast in their room half an hour ago. Pandora would like you to go and see her after you’ve eaten your own breakfast. You’ll be moving into a bungalow today, but there’s no need to start work yet. We have only a handful of English-speaking guests at the moment. Pandora will talk to you about the work.’ He looked at the table. ‘Is there anything you need? Anything I can get you?’

She shook her head. ‘No, thank you, Milo.’

‘Then I will leave you to enjoy your breakfast in peace.’

She ate an unhurried meal, aware of Milo moving about the room, greeting guests, escorting them to tables, checking that every detail was correct, talking to the other staff. Seeing that she had finished, he came back, raising his fine black brows, asking her: ‘
Kala?
’

Miranda looked blankly at him.

‘That means good,’ he explained. ‘Was your breakfast good?
Kala?
’

‘
Ne
,’ she said, remembering to shake her head, not nod. ‘I enjoyed it very much.’

‘The Greek for that is
“moo a resse para polee”,
’ he translated.

She repeated the phrase, then got a notebook out of her handbag and wrote it down while Milo spelt it.

He smiled at her approvingly. ‘You will soon be speaking Greek, I can see that. Now, I will take you to see Pandora.’

It was a much larger room than her own, with several windows, very bright and sunny. Pandora was lying on a cushioned lounger, reading a book, while music played. There was no sign of Charles – no doubt he had gone to his manager’s office.

Lifting a smile to greet Miranda, Pan said, ‘Did you sleep well?’

‘Very well – how about you? You look better.’

‘I am. I’ve barely moved a muscle since we arrived. Come and sit down. Milo, can we have some more coffee, please?’

‘Of course.’ He withdrew and Miranda sat down facing the window and the view over the gardens. The window was open, the warm, rose-and-lavender-scented air softly blew into the room.

‘I gather I have the rest of the week off, starting work on Monday,’ Miranda said.

‘Yes. We have a party of Americans arriving this Sunday, though, so you may be called upon to translate for them. But Milo’s English is fluent, and so long as he isn’t otherwise occupied, he can cope with any problems that come up.’

‘He seems to do a dozen jobs! Watching him this morning I felt I should be starting work at once, not taking the rest of the week off.’

Pan laughed. ‘No need! Milo could run this place single-handed if he needed to. He has worked here for years and has done almost every job – even the cooking! If we’re short of staff in one job Milo can take over if necessary. He’s wonderful.’

‘How old is he? It’s difficult to tell.’

‘He’s in his fifties, but, as you say, he carries his age very well.’

‘Is he married?’

‘He was, once, to a lovely woman, I can still remember her smile and her great big eyes, she was always so kind – but Silvana died when I was about ten. She worked here, too. They had a staff bungalow in the grounds. Milo still lives there.’

‘Did they have children?’

‘Yes, two boys – one of them is in medical school in New York, and the other is an athlete. He’s in America, too, training at some sports camp.’

‘Milo must miss them.’

‘Yes, but he is ambitious for them, he wants them to be very successful and that means leaving home. He’s very logical, he accepts that they have to go away.’

‘He’s promised to help me learn Greek.’

Pandora laughed. ‘He has amazing patience. He trained me to work here, I have the highest respect for him. Milo is one of our family.’

‘Really? Related to you?’

‘Not in blood, but in every other way. He was my father’s best friend, and now he’s very close to my . . .’ She stopped abruptly, looking out of the window. ‘Oh! Who’s that?’

Miranda looked out, too, but could only see some children running ahead of an elegant woman in a black bikini over which she wore a black and poppy-red pareo, floating and filmy, falling to her mid-thigh.

‘That woman? I’ve no idea. She must be a guest.’

‘Yes – beautiful, isn’t she? I’m sure she’s an actress, I think I’ve seen her in Greek films.’

‘Does Greece have a big film industry?’ asked Miranda, rather surprised.

‘Not really, but nobody else makes films in Greek so we have to make some ourselves. We have American films, with subtitles, or dubbed into Greek, of course. And a lot of Greeks can speak pretty good English.’

Pandora pulled a sheet of paper down from the table next to her bed. ‘This is a list of what you’ll have to do in the office. Read it and then ask me about anything you’re worried about.’

Miranda ran her eye down the list. ‘No, it all seems pretty straightforward.’

Pandora leaned back, yawning. ‘I’m sorry, I’m still sleepy, despite having slept so much since we arrived.’

‘That’s probably a good idea. Travelling is exhausting.’

‘Yes, I was beginning to get worried about feeling so weak.’ A brightness showed in her eyes, the brilliance of unshed tears. ‘I’m terrified of losing this baby, the way I did the others, of course.’

‘Of course,’ said Miranda, watching her with sympathy. It must be a nightmare to be in that position.

‘Charles and I want children so badly. It’s unfair that I can’t have them as easily as other women do. Every time I lose one I feel so useless. No, it’s more than that – I feel cursed.’

Miranda didn’t know what to say. How did you comfort someone you barely knew? Huskily, she muttered, ‘Well, if you stay in bed this time, with any luck everything will be fine.’

Giving herself a little shake, Pandora said, ‘Oh, yes, sure. Take no notice of my moaning. What are you going to do today? Would you like Milo to arrange a tour of the island for you after lunch?’

Lighting up, Miranda said, ‘I’d love it, that’s exactly what I’d like to do. But maybe I could sit with you and keep you company?’

‘That’s very kind of you, but I have to sleep a lot of the time. The doctor gave me tranquillisers to keep me sleepy. You go and find Milo. You’ll find him in the dining room, supervising the layout of the buffet lunch. We have a buffet lunch every day, it saves on staff and is cheaper and easier than serving at the tables.’

On her way to the door, Miranda tentatively said, ‘I promised to ring my mother, to reassure her that I’m safe – I’ll pay for the call. Do I ask the operator to give me a bill?’

‘No need to do that. If you make private calls they will be deducted from your salary at the end of each month. Make your call after eight o’clock, it will be cheaper.’

It was only as she walked towards the dining room that Miranda wondered what Pandora had been about to say when she suddenly stopped and changed the subject. She had mentioned her father, who had been Milo’s best friend, then added something about Milo now being the best friend of someone else. ‘My . . .’ she had begun then halted.

Had she been going to say Milo was her husband’s best friend? No, Miranda was sure Milo was no friend to Charles. She had noticed a coldness in his face, in his voice, whenever he spoke to Pandora’s husband.