Cold Pressed (14 page)

She followed the pointing finger and entered a small room,
dimly lit and sparsely populated. At the bar, a familiar figure sat reading a
paperback, an almost-empty glass of red wine at his elbow. She approached,
feigning a frown.

"And what do you think you're doing here?"

Oscar Martins's face passed from surprise to puzzlement to
pleasure as he brought himself back to reality. She could identify with that
feeling, so lost in a book that reality comes as an intrusion.

"What do you think I'm doing here? Stalking you, of
course. I ruthlessly pumped Inspector Stephanakis for the name of your hotel.
But I'm on a break right now, so the time seemed right to enjoy a glass of the
local grape. Can I tempt you?"

"Certainly not. On an empty stomach and three hours'
sleep, I would be swinging from the chandeliers. I was on my way out to find
something tasty and substantial. With chips. Have you eaten?"

"No. I saved myself in case I happened to bump into
you. My Machiavellian plan was to track you down and invite you to
dinner." He slipped his book into the right inside pocket of his jacket
and Beatrice recognised the cover.
An Empty Vessel
, by Vaughan Mason.
One of Matthew’s favourites. She made up her mind. She’d refuse to be drawn on
any aspect of the case, but some company and discussion on literature wouldn’t
hurt.

"Come on then, let's waste no more time. You're due
back on board at eleven. I'll ask the concierge for a local
recommendation."

"No need. I found the perfect place, just around the
corner. A good stalker should do his homework. I do have one request, if you
don't mind?"

Beatrice tilted her head to indicate she was listening.

Oscar clasped his hands under his chin and lowered his brow.
"I must ask you not to talk about or allude to your investigation in any
way. I warn you now that if you should attempt to share sensitive details about
this case, I shall stick my fingers in my ears and sing Demis Roussos until you
stop."

"I rather like Demis Roussos. But thank you, I accept
your terms. Can we go now? I'm absolutely starving."

"This way."

Oscar's evident pride in having found a charming
little local taverna was somewhat punctured on their arrival. Dinos spotted her
instantly and rushed to kiss her on both cheeks.

"Again! You come back! You love my food! Welcome,
Police Lady! Welcome, mister. Sit, sit!"

A flush of happy anticipation suffused Beatrice as they sat
at a battered table, but she sensed Oscar's confidence had lost some of its
ease.

"Inspector Stephanakis brought me here for lunch when I
arrived. You obviously have an eye for the right kind of eatery. If the
stifado
is on the menu, I'd strongly recommend you try it."

His face creased into a knowing smile. "And you have a
knack for tact. Not to mention notoriety. It seems you're not easily
forgotten."

Beatrice glanced across at Dinos behind the bar, who was
roaring with laughter at one of his own jokes. The whole room turned to watch,
his laugh an entertainment in itself.

"I believe Dinos is what we'd call a local 'character'
and one of his quirks is a peculiar fascination with the British Royal Family.
That’s why a London detective is likely to stick in his mind. Now, why are you
lurking about hotel bars when you could be attending the 'Introduction to
Rhodes' lecture on the
Empress Louise
?"

Oscar stroked an imaginary beard. "I was paralysed by
choice. What should I do? The lecture on a place I have visited three times
before, aqua-aerobics in the main pool, a retro sing-a-long in the piano bar or
fifty percent off having my legs waxed? When you have so many opportunities,
sometimes it's easier not to decide. Plus, our conversation from last night
remains unfinished. You were..."

"Meatballs!" boomed Dinos. "Special today,
very good. Yes?" He plonked a basket of bread and carafe of red on the
table and rubbed his hands together. "Yes?"

Oscar shrugged helplessly while Beatrice laughed.

"Meatballs. Yes." She waved a finger between
herself and Oscar to indicate they would both succumb to the house special. She
had every reason to trust their host.

"Very good!" he bowed and gave the thumbs-up.

Beatrice watched him roll back to the kitchen, the loose
sole flapping from his trainer. A man in his element, at home in his world. Not
rich in the conventional sense, but respected for himself, and apparently happy
with his lot. She compared him with Jensson, whose job ascribed greater status
and certainly accrued greater wealth. And yet the outlook of the two appeared
diametrically opposite. She checked herself. Making assumptions about two men
she'd met a couple of times. The worst kind of mindset for a detective.

She focused on her dining companion. "I hope you didn't
mind my ordering for you. Well, acquiescing for you. Dinos seems to be rather a
steamroller, so I just gave in. I also tend to trust the dish of the day when
all the locals are tucking in."

Oscar poured wine into two beakers. "Me too. And I'd
never have been brave enough to argue even if I had wanted
stifado
. So
let's toast going local. Cheers!"

"Cheers!" The wine, like Dinos himself, was rough,
unpolished, full bodied and warming.

Oscar took a sip and his eyes widened. Instantly his tanned
cheeks began to glow.

"Oh dear," said Beatrice. "Do you hate it? We
can order something else."

Oscar shook his head and drank again. "No, not at all,
I like a wine that gives you a bear hug. I feel more manly with every drop. And
what better partner for homemade meatballs? As I was saying, our conversation
was interrupted by last night's incident. And, if I may make so bold, rather
unfair. I told you about my profession, my marital status, my cruise habits and
my shameful habit of writing books. You, with classic professional cunning,
revealed nothing more than your full title. Well, I'm not a man to give up
easily. Tonight, DI Stubbs, I'm asking the questions."

The meatballs, as predicted, were a triumph. The
second carafe slipped down smoothly as more and more people packed the taverna.
Departing diners struggled and wrestled their way to the door. Heat and
condensation increased, yet tempers remained friendly and cheerful, while the
noise level made any conversation less than shouting impossible.

Oscar paid the bill, claiming it as his treat. Dinos
insisted on taking a group selfie and bestowing more kisses in their effusive
goodbyes. Beatrice didn't argue with either of them, but expressed her thanks with
absolute sincerity for an excellent evening. Once on the street, the night air
cooled her cheeks and she slipped into her jacket. Traffic, people, lights and
music seemed to spill across their path, flowing, bouncing, bumping and
perpetually moving. Oscar shielded her from a group of shrieking girls tumbling
from a bar, but Beatrice's sense of goodwill remained unshaken. She smiled at
the girls, at Oscar, at the world. Dinos's house wine should be available on
prescription.

"Your hotel, madam. Thank you for your company and I
will see you tomorrow, I'm sure. Good luck with the investigation, not that
you'll need it. I should hurry and get a cab. Look, here's my card. Give me a
call. Sleep well."

He took her hand, drew her to him and kissed her lightly on
both cheeks.

"Goodnight, Oscar, and thank you. Yes, it's getting
late. Don't miss the boat!"

He gave a surprised laugh. “My sentiments exactly.”

He stepped into the street and hailed a taxi immediately,
causing a cacophony of horns behind the cab. He turned for a last wave and
ducked inside. Beatrice waved back and watched the vehicle careen off into the
direction of the dock.

She released a happy sigh and looked at her watch. Half past
eleven. In Devon, it was half past nine, a perfectly reasonable time to call
someone. Then she should pack, perform ablutions and bed. The flight to Rhodes
was due to depart shortly after seven. She tucked Oscar's card into her pocket
and picked up her key from reception. As she made for the stairs, she
congratulated herself. Not only had she relaxed and stopped thinking about the
case, but she'd made a new friend. For someone who'd spent the whole previous
night awake investigating a murder, it was a respectable night's work.

"Good evening, Professor Bailey
speaking."

"Matthew, it's me. Sorry to call so late."

"
Hello, Old Thing. Didn't recognise the number.
How's Greece?"

"The place itself is very pleasant. However, the case
itself has taken a turn for the worse. There's been another fatality and this
time, I'm afraid there is no doubt."

"
Oh dear, that's most unfortunate. I understand you
can give no details, but from a purely selfish perspective, I presume it means
you won't be back on Wednesday."

"Highly unlikely. The aim is to clear this up in the
next couple of days, but you know how unpredictable such a situation can
be."

Matthew's voice, when it came, was profoundly weary. "
So
long as you hold Hamilton to his word and insist on days off in lieu. We need
some uninterrupted time together."

"I will try. The only thing is, he wants me to take
over another operation, so I'm not sure how flexible he'll be."

She stood at the French windows, watching the patterns of
lunar light on the ocean. A moon bridge, from this world to another. Seconds
passed as she waited for his response.

"Matthew?"

"
What takes priority, Beatrice? Really, it's a
genuine question. Are Hamilton's needs more important than yours? Than
ours?"

She pressed a hand over her eyes and grimaced.
"No." Her buoyant mood leaked away, leaving an uncertain void.
"As a matter of fact, I broached the subject of early retirement. He
wasn't happy and told me to forget the idea for next year. But the year after,
I'm sure he'll be fine, because he'll have two detective sergeants in..."

"
To be completely frank, I could not care less about
Hamilton's problems. I'm more concerned with ours. I begin to feel you actually
prefer our being apart and have no inclination to change that. My attempts to
discuss our future are met with evasion or absence. For my part, let me be
clear. I would very much like to spend my dotage with you. Ideally in the same
house, but I'd settle for the same county.
”

“Matthew...”

"
What do you want, Beatrice? That is not a
rhetorical question. Think about it and give me your answer on your return.
Whenever that may be. I wish you a goodnight and a swift resolution to your
case. Take care, Old Thing
."

Beatrice returned his wishes, put the phone down and leant
her forehead against the window. Her relaxed and positive frame of mind had
been ousted by a malign and familiar unease. She was being irresponsible,
hiding her head and hoping the problem would stop knocking. She winced at the
idea of identifying Matthew as a problem. The one person who had loved her,
supported her through the worst of times, made so many sacrifices and only
wanted a future together. What was wrong with her?

She thought about his question. What did she want? The best
of both worlds. Matthew's love and companionship, Hamilton's respect, her own
peace of mind and equilibrium. Even if it came in the form of medication. There
had to be a compromise. All she had to do was find it. But before that, she had
to call James. Her counsellor of two years was unfailing in his patience yet
unforgiving in his persistence, never letting her twist off the hook.

Yes, she would call James. It was not quite a decision, but
a decision to decide, which would have to suffice.

Chapter 16

Winds buffeted the city of Rhodes, shaking trees and
whipping tourists' hair into their faces. As they drove along Papagou, Nikos
pointed out the Palace of the Grand Master of the Knights of Rhodes, just
visible through the trees of Platia Rimini. Beatrice seemed impressed,
exclaiming her admiration of the ancient edifice. They drove under an arch in
the city walls and alongside the harbour, where the wind flailed masts and
whipped flags. He kept up his tourist guide commentary, but his mind was
elsewhere. He had mixed feelings about this place.

On the island of Rhodes, Karen had changed from being his
teacher to his lover over one highly charged weekend. Incredible memories he
hid away so as not to wear them out. Yet Rhodes was home to a piece of shit
he’d rather forget. There were several people on this planet Nikos never wanted
to see again, but only one he actively wished dead. Demetrius Xanthou,
schoolmate, colleague, rival and now an inspector for the South Aegean Region
of the Hellenic Police. Acid roiled in Nikos’s gut.

The awe-inspiring architecture changed in stature as the
police vehicle turned away from the beach and rolled down Akti Sachtouri into
the commercial port. Three vast cruise ships dominated the skyline,
anachronistic and intrusive, like contemporary hotels in mediaeval towns.

By the time they arrived at the
Empress Louise
,
breakfast had finished and many of the cruise passengers were descending the
gangway, keen to begin their exploration of the island. Nikos took a deep
breath and with a nod to Beatrice, led the way onto the boat in the opposite
direction to the silver-haired tide.

Captain Jensson looked less than rested. When he greeted
them at the bridge, he reported no disturbances other than a great deal of
seasickness amongst the passengers. High winds had made the sailing the most
turbulent so far.

"We weren't even sure if we'd be able to dock. So the
medical team have their hands full. I don't think Dr Fraser will be able to
spare you much time today, if any. How do you want to proceed,
detectives?"