‘India,’ interrupted Brandon, ‘Shut up for a minute and just listen. Don’t forget the killer was from around here and we don’t know anything about him yet. Until we know it is safe, I would rather we stay very close.’
‘Oh,’ said India, ‘Of course, sorry, I didn’t think.’
‘No you didn’t. Don’t worry, you can have the bed, I will sleep on the floor. Anyway, what makes you so sure I would want to sleep with you?’
India’s shock was almost comical as her anger found a new target.
‘Why? What’s wrong with me?’ she snapped.
‘Nothing,’ said Brandon, ‘It’s just… I mean… Oh forget it. I can’t win this argument. Look, I don’t know about you, but I just want a shower and a change of clothes.’
‘Hot water is only available in the morninks,’ said India, mimicking the woman’s accent to break the tension.
‘Ah, yes,’ answered Brandon, ‘I forgot.’ Suddenly he picked up his rucksack and delved into the contents.
‘What are you doing?’ she asked.
‘I’ve got an idea,’ he answered and suddenly stood up holding a pair of Speedo’s.
‘Who needs a shower?’ he asked, ‘When you’ve got the beautiful Aegean on your doorstep. Come on, grab those designer bikinis you fleeced me for, and we will have a bit of a break before the work starts.’
Several hours later they sat outside a tavern, each sipping on a glass of ouzo, watching a spectacular sunset.
‘I have never seen anything so beautiful,’ said India, ‘No wonder they based the Temple of the Gods on this island.’
‘Oh I don’t know,’ said Brandon, ‘The same sunset is probably being watched by millions of other people across the med.’
‘Oh shut up, Brandon,’ said India, ‘Where’s your romance?’
He raised one eyebrow and stared silently over his glass as he sipped his ouzo.
‘You know what I mean,’ said India, ‘Anyway, what is the plan now we are here?’
‘Well, answered, Brandon, ‘The dead man’s license has been traced to somewhere along the coast called Therma. I’ve booked us on a sightseeing trip tomorrow and we’ll visit some of his known haunts. See if we can pick up any information.’
‘When are we going to Paleopolis?’
‘Paleopolis?’ asked Brandon.
‘The Temple of the gods,’ she said. We can’t come all the way to Samothrace and not go to the ruins.’
‘We’ll see,’ said Brandon, ‘Let’s not forget our purpose here. There’s still a little girl missing.’
India nodded sombrely.
‘Do you think she’s okay?’
‘Who knows?’ said Brandon, ‘Everything possible is being done to find her but she seems to have disappeared from the face of the earth. None of the known threats have any knowledge at all. Drug rings, prostitution rackets, even terrorist groups, all have been checked out but nothing.’
‘They could be lying,’ she said.
‘Possible, but we have a network of contacts throughout every known organisation. Either this is a new group or the result of some fanatic acting on his own.’
‘So why aren’t there more of you out here,’ asked India.
‘The main enquiry is going on back home. This is just a wild card, so to speak. We don’t hold much hope of finding anything but we obviously have to cover every angle.’
‘So what have your people found out about the dead man?’ asked India.
‘Not much. We know his name is Peter Venezelos, and his driving license is registered in Therma but apart from that, there’s not much to know. This island is very isolated and he doesn’t appear on any database we can find. In my experience the civil servants in these sort of places are pretty slow in computerising their records. Given time, I’m sure we could dig up all sorts of facts but that’s the one thing we haven’t got, time!’ He called the waiter and ordered more drinks.
‘So, what else can you tell me about this island?’
‘Not much,’ said India, ‘After the death of Elektra the Temple of the Gods went from strength to strength and lasted thousands of years, right up until it was torn down by the Byzantines in the fourth century.’
‘So that’s a dead end as far as the investigation goes then,’ said Brandon.
‘Possibly, though don’t forget, for all those thousands of years previous to that, it was a fundamental part of life to most people across this part of the world.’
They talked long into the night and eventually made their way back to the taverna in the early hours of the morning, slightly worse for wear. They spent an awkward ten minutes getting changed and organising the sleeping arrangements before India curled up on the squeaky bed under a sheet, and Brandon lay on the floor on a makeshift mattress made from two spare blankets they had found on top of the wardrobe.
‘You okay?’ asked India in the darkness.
‘Trust me,’ he said, ‘I’ve slept in a lot worse places than this.’
‘Good night then,’ she said, and closed her eyes, falling asleep within minutes.
— -
The following morning saw them both on a small bus heading along the coast road towards the town named for the natural warm springs that was its main attraction. The bus was filled with tourists, all keen to see more of the island and India could hear a range of languages including Greek, German and British. At the back, were a group of gossiping old women carrying baskets of various farm produce, and the noise of the chickens within some, competed with the bleats of a goat, perched on the shelf of the rear window.
They eventually arrived and India and Brandon got off to follow the tourists into the village. They spent an hour wandering around the market before eventually moving up into the side streets, finally finding the one named on Brandon’s slip of paper. They made their way into the cafe near the end of the row of whitewashed houses. Despite the language differences, they managed to order some coffees and they spent an hour making small talk as they took in the environment around them. They ordered a light lunch and struck up a conversation with a waitress who spoke English and Brandon eventually eased the conversation around to Peter Venezelos, explaining that he had met him on a previous holiday and would like to say hello.
‘Peter has been away for a long time,’ answered the waitress, ‘He left over a year ago, but I know not where.’
‘Does he live around here,’ he asked, ‘Perhaps I could pop in and say hello to his parents. It would be good to see them again.’
The girl paused.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said,’ I don’t understand. His parents have been dead for many years. He and his brother were brought up by Mama Christou. Where did you say you met him?’
‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ said Brandon, realising he had made a faux pas,’ I must be mistaken. Perhaps I will catch up with him next time.’ He placed some money on the bar and led the way out of the cafe and away from the street. The girl watched them leave curiously before reaching for the handset of an ancient landline on the bar. Outside, India and Brandon crossed the square.
‘That was awkward,’ said India.
‘Schoolboy error,’ said Brandon. ‘I assumed too much too quickly. Still, at least we’ve got a name.’
‘Who?’
‘Mama Christou,’ he said, ‘Sounds like a name most people will know in a place like this.’ He was right. Within a few minutes they had directions to Mama Christou’s house and had found out she was now a frail old woman with failing eyesight. Brandon bought a bunch of flowers and they made their way to an old part of the village. India knocked on the door and a young woman answered.
‘Hello,’ said India, ‘Do you speak English?’
‘A little,’ said the woman.
‘We are looking for Mama Christou. Peter Venezelos said she lived here.’
The woman’s eyes widened.
‘You are a friend of Peter?’ she asked, ‘Have you seen him?
‘Yes,’ said Brandon, ‘He is in England. We have become friends over the last few months and when I told him I was coming here on holiday. He asked me to pop in and give Mama Christou some flowers.’