Aegean Intrigue (5 page)

 

Things didn't add up. She had had plenty of opportunity to “siphon” pieces from the dig, but every piece had been properly cataloged and stored. Was she being overly cautious, knowing he was on site? Did she suspect him of not being a Project Director?

“Alex?”

He spun around, hand going to his hip for the pistol that wasn't there. He scowled, chiding himself at being caught off-guard. Francie stepped backward, her eyes wide, her arms held out in front of her for protection.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt anything,” she insisted.

Alex forced his facial muscles to relax. It wouldn't do to frighten her. “I'm the one who should apologize,” he assured her. “My mind was elsewhere, and I was frustrated with myself for not paying attention. How can I help you?”

Instead of answering his question, she tilted her head to one side. Her brown eyes focused on him, her brows dipping in thought. “Why would it be so awful to let your mind wander? When people stop to think, it's usually because they're looking for a solution to a problem. There's nothing wrong with that.”

He couldn't stop the laugh that erupted. The sound was foreign to him. How long had it been since he had allowed himself to let go and enjoy himself in someone's company? “Such a philosopher. You're in the right place for that.”

She colored. “I'm no Socrates.”

“Perhaps not, but your words are wise, nonetheless. What was it you wanted?”

“Oh! I came to let you know that several of us are going into Parikia for dinner and drinks. It's Saturday, so Dimitri has the night off, and he's still recovering. Would you like to join us?”

Here was a chance to observe Francie in a larger social setting. Perhaps she would slip off and meet one of her contacts. “That sounds like fun. When will you leave?”

“In about an hour. See you then,” she added, backing away.

“Francie.”

She turned, raising a questioning brow.

“Thank you for inviting me,” he said softly.

He noticed she rubbed her upper arms, as if to ward off a chill. “You're welcome. See you later.” She turned then and scooted away.

So, I still disturb her
, he thought.

He ran a hand through his hair.
But not nearly as much as she disturbs me.

****

Alex nursed his drink, not allowing the wine to dull his senses. His tiny table, set on the stone-paved street, wobbled a bit each time he set his arm down. Every few minutes he raised the glass, pretending to drink. His eyes searched for her again, even as he cursed himself for it.

Most of the crew had gone into town for the evening. Only Dimitri and the professor had stayed behind. The group chose a restaurant facing the beach and settled into the comfortable rattan chairs. Yannis and Jane sat apart from the rest, their heads close together, oblivious to anyone but each other.

The restaurant offered entertainment as well as good food. Just inside the doorway, a younger man played the guitar, while an older gentleman played a traditional Greek stringed instrument called a
bouzouki
. A group of costumed dancers began to move to the music. Standing side by side, they linked hands and stepped to the lively music. Soon others joined in, laughing and cheering as they danced. Alex's pulse leaped as he recognized a familiar figure join in. Her eyes shone with delight and her lovely cocoa-brown hair bounced in time with the music. He was staring, but he couldn't look away.

****

Francie fought to keep her expression cheerful as she danced. He was staring at her again. She hadn't looked at him, but she knew his dark eyes were directed her way. It had been the same at the Appolon Grill in Athens. Somehow, whenever he turned her way, the heat behind his gaze seared her like a brand.

She stumbled, but righted herself quickly. The
Syrto
was a dance her
yaya
had patiently taught her long ago, and her feet moved automatically, giving her mind the freedom to wonder about the hold the man had on her.

He was such an enigma. He was not averse to hard work and always pitched in where needed. At dinner, he had been a gentleman, making pleasant conversation with everyone. But now he held himself apart. Why? Didn't he like to have a good time? He'd grown up on an island not far away, so he surely must know the steps.

The music paused, and the dancers waited as an elderly gentleman made his way to the head of the men's line. His gait was slow and unsteady, but his face was determined. She saw the doubtful looks on the faces of the other dancers, but tradition dictated the eldest person would lead the dance, and the rest had to follow. Would this man be up to the task?

And then he was there. Alex stood next to the old man, but instead of linking hands, he wrapped his right arm around the man's frail body, holding him upright. The other men wordlessly fell into place beside Alex, and the musicians began again. The line moved, Alex supporting the patriarch's weight with one arm. Up and down the street they went, cheers and applause coming from those not dancing. The music soared, and the old man's wide, toothless smile tugged at Francie's heart.

When the dance was over, Alex guided the man back to his seat in the tavern. Several of the villagers patted his shoulder in acknowledgement. A woman pressed a huge piece of baklava, wrapped in a napkin, into his hands.

“
Efharisto
. Thank you,” she whispered to him before she returned to her seat beside the old man.

Alex Leonidis was a special man. But he was Greek, he was powerful, and he was charming. Francie knew if she weren't careful, she'd fall in love again…with another wrong man. Doing so would be sheer stupidity.

Too bad her heart didn't want to listen.

****

“Professor! Look!”

Seven hat-covered heads rose at Francie's call. She remained on her haunches, swiping at the dirt with both gloved hands. As the dirt fell away, a solid piece remained, a small ceramic bowl with two handles. As Francie gingerly lifted the piece from its resting place, there were several gasps of awe among the group.

Professor Theo was the first to speak. His voice was little more than a whisper, as if speaking aloud would be improper.

“It's in perfect condition. What an incredible find!”

Alex moved slowly toward the huddle, but instead of looking at the discovery, he focused on the people surrounding it. His eyes missed nothing. If the bowl disappeared, he wanted to remember every look, every nuance, every word. If there was a partnership of any kind, he had to know.

“This is indeed a remarkable find, Francie,” the professor repeated. “This is wonderful!”

The rest of the group added their congratulations, and after the piece was properly cataloged and the exact location of the find was noted, everyone went back to work. Alex kept his eyes focused on the woman who had haunted his every waking moment. If this piece was “lost” like the necklace and coin, he could solve the case. Part of him wanted her to make her move so he could wrap up this entire investigation, another part of him cried out for her to be innocent. If she was guilty, he would not be able to pursue a relationship with her. If she was innocent, she might not forgive him for suspecting her. If she found out.

He shook his head, amazed and annoyed at the turn his thoughts had taken. A relationship? Impossible! He had no business even considering it. She was first and foremost a suspect. It was best if he remembered that.

 

Francie took a long drink from her water bottle. She pulled a rag from her back pocket, wiped off her trowel, and dug some more. The ground in this sector was quite densely packed, slowing the progress. The trowels had to be sharpened often to pierce the earth.

The scream came from the office. Before she could react, Alex was already sprinting toward the sound. Francie and the others followed quickly. She stopped inside the doorway, her jaw dropping at the gruesome sight.

Alex stood over the professor, who was holding his left hand with his right as a stream of red flowed from between his fingers. His trowel and sharpening file lay on the floor in front of him. Alex opened a bottle of the professor's favorite whiskey and poured it on the cut, then looked up.

“Dimitri, run to the kitchen and grab some towels so we can wrap this cut. Francie, please come and help me. Yannis, get the van. This cut is quite deep and we'll have to find a doctor to stitch it up.” He barked out instructions with authority and efficiency, and everyone sprang into action. In no time, the professor sat in the van, Francie holding the towel tightly on his bandaged hand and Alex driving to the nearest clinic. The others stayed behind to clean up.

The road was uneven and the ride was jarring. Alex drove confidently along the narrow winding route, but each time they went over a bump, Francie's head nearly bounced against the roof. Riding fast on the steep hills, the roadside drops had her fearing for her life. She held tight to the professor. Maybe their combined weights would keep them in their seats.

“I feel so foolish. I just wanted to join you for a little while,” the professor moaned.

Francie hastened to reassure him. “It's not unusual to cut yourself when sharpening your trowel.”

“For a novice, perhaps. But I should know better. I taught you how to sharpen your trowel, and I don't recall you ever cutting yourself this badly. I was daydreaming. That's what happens when you get old. Your mind wanders, and your hands are unsteady.”

His body sagged, his expression so dejected Francie tightened her hold on him. This was her surrogate parent, the man who gave her the encouragement she had craved from her own father. She couldn't bear to see him like this.

“You have plenty on your mind. You're in charge of all the details of this dig. I'm not at all surprised that your mind wanders. Just be calm. Alex will have us at the clinic in no time.” Already she could see the white buildings of Parikia in the distance.

****

Alex listened as he drove. For a moment he envied the professor. The older man sat in the back seat with Francie's arm wrapped around him, her hand holding his, her gentle voice whispering reassurances in his ear.

Pulling into an empty spot in front of a tavern, Alex jumped out and asked a passerby for the location of the clinic. He was directed to a tiny but well-kept office in the center of town run by a crusty but competent physician and his equally taciturn assistant. The doctor sanitized the Professor's hand, stitched the wound, and wrapped it with amazing efficiency. In less than an hour, the bill was paid, and they were on their way back to the campsite.

Once they had returned, Alex and Dimitri helped the professor to his tent. The cut had been deep, and loss of blood had left him weak, so Francie brought dinner to him on a tray. Alex noticed each crew member took the time to go in and speak to the professor, expressing pleasure at his return.

Just like a family.

Alex had always worked alone, other than his brief stint with the Police Department in Athens. If he were hurt and unable to work for a while, no one would notice. His clients would simply move on to another investigator. No one would rejoice at his return. If he were hurt or even killed, who would mourn, other than his mother? For the first time, he doubted his life choices.

And he again started to doubt his suspects. How could people who instilled such loyalty in their coworkers be guilty of such thefts? The items from ancient civilizations were meant to be displayed for the world to see, for the human race to study and learn from the past. Taking them and hiding them from the public eye was cruel as well as criminal. He found it difficult to think these people were capable of such a crime.

But someone here is guilty
, he thought.
So far each item has been accounted for, but eventually the thief
will
make a move, and I will be here to see it.

****

After dinner, Alex decided to skip the usual socializing. Perhaps an evening swim would settle his restlessness. He ducked into his own tent, changed into his swimming trunks, and headed to the beach. The evenings were the nicest time for a swim. The water was still warm, but the air had cooled to a more comfortable temperature. It was unusual to be working in a place with a private beach, and he decided to make the most of it.

Coming up to the beachfront, he found he wasn't the only one with the idea of a cooling dip. Another figure stood at the shore, wading through the gentle waves.

Francie.

He paused, considering the wisdom of putting himself near the person who created such angst in him. They were alone, on a secluded beach. The sun was setting. She was dressed in a flowing gauzy garment. Though it covered her, every curve of her body was evident.

Drat
.

Before he could turn around and go back to the camp, she saw him. “Alex?”

Double drat
. Going back now would look silly.

“I see you had the same idea I did.” Was it his imagination, or did his voice crack? It hadn't done that since he was twelve. He matched his steps to hers, walking in the deeper water. Perhaps the cool waves would calm his racing heart. He noticed he didn't have to shorten his natural stride, since her long legs ate up the distance as quickly as his own.

“It was a stressful day. The beach is calming. It must be the motion of the waves.”

Alex merely grunted and nodded, unable to form a coherent response.

“I was so frightened when the professor hurt himself. I'm not sure I could have borne it if he had been seriously hurt.”

“I take it you've known him a long time.”

She nodded. “All my life. He and Dad were colleagues. Then when Mom left and Dad went to work in the private sector, traveling all over the world, the professor was still here in Greece. I decided to do my doctoral work at the University of Athens because his was a familiar face.”

A father figure, he thought, ignoring the relief. He had no business being jealous, and there was no point in examining the relationship in the first place. It had nothing to do with him.
Focus on the prize,
he told himself.

“You told the professor it was common for people to cut themselves while sharpening a trowel. Is that true?”

“More or less. He must have been very distracted, though. A man with as much experience as he has would go through the motions automatically. I thought it was odd, but didn't say anything to him. He was upset enough as it was.”

“You handled him quite well. I know your presence helped him to stay calm.”

She smiled at him. “Thanks. I know he's helped to calm me down more than once.” When he merely raised his eyebrows at her, she admitted, “I—went through a rough time a few years ago, and neither of my parents was…available. If it weren't for Professor Theo's encouragement, I might be waiting tables for the rest of my life instead of finishing my PhD.”

“Then the entire world of Classic Archaeology is indebted to him.”

She laughed. “You're jumping to conclusions.”

They continued walking in silence. The waves lapped at their feet, moving in a smooth, calming rhythm. They reached the end of the estate, marked by a low stone fence. By mutual accord, they turned to walk back to the encampment. He thought briefly about her lost love, Leandros. Had they walked on moonlit sandy beaches like this?

She raised such strong emotions in him, feelings that hadn't surfaced in years, and at a pitch he had never felt. If he were to become involved with her, it would consume him, and he would expect nothing less from her. He would be very, very selfish. He clasped his hands behind his back to keep them to himself.

But a moment later his arms were wrapped around her. She'd tripped on a piece of driftwood, and instinctively, he'd reached out to catch her before she fell. But the momentum sent them both sprawling on the sand. Alex held himself above her, hoping he hadn't hurt her. But the wide brown eyes looking up into his, the thick tresses of dark hair spread out on a pillow of sand, and the full lips opened in surprise offered an invitation he couldn't refuse.

Oh no
, he thought as his face lowered to hers.