A Darker God (19 page)

Maud winced in embarrassment, took out her handkerchief, and sniffed into it.

The familiar street sounds below—chatter, laughter, the chug of taxis skirting around the square, the Athenian evening promenade—continued uninterrupted, apparently well able to resist the nursery-room challenge to play hide-and-seek with Thetis.

“Well, all the same, I’ve made my mind up to mention it in the morning when the inspector comes to call,” Maud conceded. “I shall tell him that it most probably all goes back to Andrew’s escapades in Salonika just after the war. He was up there in northern Greece working in a diplomatic rôle off and on from the end of the war until just recently. Spying, most probably! He made some questionable decisions and upset quite a few people, he told me once. Had to return home to London in something of a hurry … pursued by the Furies, you’d say … Yes, I’ll say something. And don’t concern yourself, Thetis—you are not involved. Ancient history. After all—I’m not talking about his grubby
little
secrets like … his love affairs. I wouldn’t dream of boring the police with all that. You know, I’ve never been certain whether Andrew knew that I was conscious of his infidelities. I am quite certain he wouldn’t have cared.”

“Love affairs? Infidelities? Whatever next? And you say you
knew
?” Thetis said faintly. “Surely you’re mistaken?”

“Oh, no … Ah—Maria!” she called as the maid entered. “I want you to go down and tell Dorothea to cancel supper. Instead—would you bring up a tray of tea, please? And don’t forget
to top up the sugar basin. Miss Thetis is suffering from shock. Something hot and sweet is what she needs.”

The maid bobbed and went out.

“Mistaken? Never! Now, how can I convince you? I’ll give you a name, shall I? A name … oh, how to choose one from so many
…?”

“Maud! Really! Your husband is hardly cold and you lightly seek to destroy his reputation? You must rest and reconsider. It’s all been too much for you, but it will look very different in the morning. And I promise not to remember a word of what you’ve just said. Andrew was a fine man—I really can’t sit here and listen to you maligning him even though you’re, naturally, distressed.”

“De mortuis nihil nisi bonum?
I’ve always thought that a rather silly maxim. Nothing but good of the dead … Let me think … He was, I admit, a fine soldier in his day and an inspired and lucky archaeologist. But apart from that it’s hard to think of anything virtuous about Andrew. Fortunately for him,
I
shall not be delivering his eulogy.” Maud gave a narrow smile. “Though I could always say, with Clytemnestra: ‘You lived by the sword and you died by the sword.’ Yes, that wouldn’t be bad. But I will not have you sit there affecting to disbelieve me! Let me see … there must be one of his lovers close to hand, someone who could confirm his villainy … Yes, of course! Letty Talbot!”

“Who? That archaeologist girl? I met her tonight … after the event … A perfectly proper young lady, I thought. We got off to a bad start but I liked her. She was kind to me in the circumstances. I was quite rude to her but she answered me softly. I would have said she might well become a friend …” Thetis’s voice trailed away, then rallied. “Laetitia Talbot and Andrew?” She gave a shout of derisive laughter. “Maud, I say again—you’re barmy!”

“There, you see! You are quite astonished.
You
were unaware, Thetis, because I confided in no one, but I’ve suffered silently for years, knowing what was going on between those two. My fool of a husband thought himself madly in love. Heaven knows what he might have sacrificed for that little minx! His reputation? That certainly. His career? His marriage? All too likely. And when I think of the kindness and consideration I’ve lavished on that motherless girl …!” Maud clutched at her bosom to calm a heart pounding with indignation and, gasping, was unable for a moment to continue.

She rallied and began to speak again with venom: “But proof of his folly will soon be out!” She looked speculatively at Thetis, a cold-eyed warrior selecting her most lethal weapon. “It will be revealed to the world when the terms of his will are made known. He had the insolence to tell me only last week that he had made the wretched girl the recipient of a fat slice of his personal wealth.
That
will set tongues wagging! Always allowing that he was telling the truth, of course.” She sniffed. “His candour was frequently a deceit.”

Apparently satisfied by the incredulous expression swiftly followed by one of dismay that her revelation caused, Maud gathered herself for her next assault. “Astonishing when you recognise, as do I, that the wretched girl proved to be every bit as frivolous and manipulative as himself. She took what she wanted and spat out the rest. No—Letty Talbot didn’t hesitate to distance herself once she’d got what she really wanted from him, and that was not his money.”

“Oh, Lord! I shouldn’t encourage your tittle-tattle but I can see you’re going to tell me whether I want to hear or not! What exactly did Laetitia Talbot want from Andrew? Apart from the chance to get up your nose, Maud?”

“An impeccable entrée into the world of archaeology, which, for some unfathomable reason, would appear to be her heart’s desire.” Maud paused for a moment, her head on one
side, genuinely mystified. “Strange girl! Good family. Wealthy in her own right, they say, as well as pretty. A little too
knowing
for most men’s taste, however. And, they say, she has political opinions so strong as to verge on the Bolshevik … though I, of course, make a point of refusing to have them voiced under
my
roof. It’s said she embarked on a course at Cambridge, though they had the good sense to send her down. Still, she could have any man in the kingdom at the snap of her fingers. And what does she choose to do but dig about in holes in the desert in the company of sweaty native workmen and a disgraced clergyman.”

Thetis raised a weary eyebrow but let the remark pass unchallenged.

Maud chuntered on. “I remember Andrew’s words: ‘That young girl’s flying with her own wings now. She doesn’t need me anymore.’ But it wasn’t two minutes before he’d found consolation in other quarters, of course.” She picked up her knitting and pretended to count the rows. “Shall I name more names, Thetis, to amaze and entertain you?”

Thetis gathered up the hem of her dusty robe and struggled to her feet. Ashen-faced, she went to tower over her cousin, who remained seated, chin raised in defiance. Her voice was controlled but cold: “Maud, I’ve been meaning to tell you—I’ve held my tongue for too long but you force me to say it—you get more like our mad old grandmother every day! Remember her motto? ‘Anything to cause a little pain,’ she used to say. And she practised what she preached. I’ve heard enough of your filthy innuendoes. I won’t stand by and hear another disrespectful word about Andrew. Be quiet! I’m leaving!”

Maud’s sly voice followed her, snapping at her heels as she strode to the door. “But he learned his lesson! None of his other lightskirts has taken him seriously …”

“Lightskirts? Where
do
you get your vocabulary? The
Gentlewoman’s Journal?
Maud! I’ve heard enough!
Shut up!”

“They knew what they were to him … An afternoon’s romp at the Café Royal. Stolen moments behind potted palms at the Savoy. Nothing more.
Playthings. Passing fancies!”

At the last waspish words, Thetis growled, turned, and tugged the sword from her belt. The gold bangles clanked and clattered down her right arm as she raised it high and let out a fearsome shriek of uncontrolled fury.

Chapter 15

I
n a corner of the office shared by Superintendent Markos Theotakis and Percy Montacute a telephone rang. The two men working in shirtsleeves at the cluttered central desk looked up and glowered at it, annoyed to be disturbed. They were engaged in a heated but amiable discussion in a mixture of English and Greek, poring over a sketch of the theatre of Dionysus, a sketch covered in dots of various colours and sporting heavy directional arrows. In the centre of the
skena
and opposite the stage entrance, a red cross marked the position of the evening’s corpse. Montacute’s notes and Theotakis’s notes were piled up and the Moleskine journal lay between them, open at the pages Laetitia had filled in.

Theotakis looked at his watch. “A bit late to be rung up? I asked the switchboard to note name and business of callers but avoid putting them through to us …”

“Couldn’t be the doctor already, could it?” Montacute said, struck by a hopeful thought.

“Philippos—take that, will you?”

They bent their heads again over the plan but both were listening in to the exchange.

Philippos spoke with exaggerated clarity into the mouthpiece. “This is the office of the Criminal Investigations Department, Athens,” he announced. “Good evening. Sergeant Georgios speaking. If you wish to speak to Superintendent Theotakis or Inspector Montacute, you may deliver your message to me. The gentlemen are both occupied at the moment but I will pass it as soon as is possible.”

The moment he stopped speaking, a rattle of Greek, in a woman’s excited voice, was clearly heard across the room.

After a few repeated requests to slow down, consider, speak more quietly, the young policeman was ready with his information: “It’s Dorothea Stephanopoulos,” he hissed. “She’s the housekeeper at the Merriman house in Kolonaki.” Wide-eyed, he added: “She seems to have something important to tell us.

“When was this, Kyria? I see … Yelling and screaming … Doors banging … A domestic dispute, would you say? The
usual
domestic dispute? Where?… The bootboy made the discovery? Great Heavens! Just tell me what you saw there …”

The voice gave a machine gun burst of words that had the sergeant recoiling from the earpiece. Several times Philippos tried to interrupt but was ignored. Finally he shouted into the instrument: “I understand. I’ve got that! Thank you, Kyria. Tell me—has anyone thought to summon medical aid? Dr. Peebles, her own doctor. Good. Good. Now, you’d best return to your duties. I’ll send someone over to you at once.”

He replaced the handset and looked thoughtfully at the two officers, almost reluctant to speak. “The housekeeper was reporting an attack on her mistress. There’s been an attempt on Lady Merriman’s life. In her own drawing room!”

Theotakis groaned and tugged at his moustache in irritation. “Over to you, Percy! They’re
your
countrymen—go and stop them from doing whatever it is they’re doing to each other, will you? Bang heads together, slap wrists, wag a finger … settle it and get straight back here!”

Chapter 16

A
decorous shake of the hand was all Gunning could permit himself as he said good night to Letty in the front porch of Mrs. Rose’s boardinghouse for the respectable travelling gentry.

After saying good-bye to their police escort, they’d spent a precious hour pretending to have dinner in a small restaurant on the square. Neither had much of an appetite for anything other than hushed conversation. Letty stirred up her salad and nibbled at pieces of cheese; Gunning made better inroads on his dish of spinach pie. The student meals at the British School were meagre and predictable and Gunning had got into the routine of eating out every evening in Laetitia’s company.

“You’re sure you’ll be all right, Letty?” he asked gently, before knocking on Mrs. Rose’s door. “We could have taken a room at the Grande Bretagne. They’re very discreet. I’d be ready to risk it … I don’t like the idea of leaving you alone tonight. You must be feeling raw … I know what the man meant to you.”

“Then you know I need time by myself to grieve. My feelings and memories aren’t the sort I can, in all decency, share with the man I’m currently in love with.”

Gunning winced. “If we weren’t standing here with the estimable Mrs. Rose on the other side of the door, preparing to take your coat and hat, I’d pick you up and shake you till your teeth rattled for being so infuriating. I never know whether you’re being ironic or just plain rude! Why do you go on tormenting me in this silly way? Can’t think why I bother with you.”