Draining his glass, he poured in more raki, diluting it with only a dash of water. There was more to this case than met the eye: the uneasy relationships between Cara Parks and the rest of the senior crew, Maria Kondos’s telephone link with Kornaria, and now the old soldier’s blatant attempt to put Kersten in the frame. He needed to consider his options.
He signed for the drinks and showed the barman Maria’s photo. As he’d expected, he showed no recognition of her.
On the way back to the main hotel building, Mavros texted Cara Parks and suggested she arrange for the missing woman’s photo, name and mention of the reward to be placed in the local newspapers. He suspected the correct procedure would have been to contact Alice Quincy or Rosie Yellenberg, but the actress had taken a major interest in the search.
Coming round the side of the hotel, he saw the flashing lights of police cars and quickened his pace. Had Maria Kondos been found? He went into the expansive reception area, in which people were milling around, and looked for Cara Parks. There was no sign of her. Renzo Capaldi, the security chief, was hanging around like a large spare part. Then he saw Hildegard Kersten, her face white with shock and a blanket around her shoulders, being tended to by two of the hotel staff. She stared at him as if unsure who he was and then beckoned him over.
‘Mr Mavros,’ she said, ‘thank God you’re here. It’s. . it’s Rudi.’
‘What’s happened?’ He looked around again, wondering if David Waggoner was in the vicinity. He couldn’t see him.
‘We’ve been burgled,’ Hildegard said. ‘The police are here, but I don’t have any faith in them. Please help.’
Mavros held back for a moment, then decided that this was a good opportunity to get close to Rudolf Kersten.
‘What happened to your husband?’ he asked. ‘Is he hurt?’
‘No, no. It’s just that he’s being questioned by that idiot Inspector Margaritis and I know his blood pressure will be rocketing upwards. Come with me.’ Hildegard dismissed the hotel staff with a movement of her wrinkled hand and pushed past the policeman who was standing at the door to their apartment.
‘My husband needs me,’ she said firmly.
There were more policemen in the living area, but they were powerless to impede the old woman’s progress. Mavros saw Kersten at the dining table, facing a slim officer in plain clothes.
‘Haven’t you finished yet?’ Mrs Kersten demanded. ‘My husband is exhausted.’
‘A few more questions, if you please.’ Margaritis was unshaven and his shirt was unironed. ‘Who is this?’ he asked, giving Mavros a sharp look.
‘A family friend,’ Hildegard said, offering no further information.
The inspector shook his head and looked at his notes. ‘Let me run through this, Mr Kersten. You and your wife had dinner in the hotel’s Minos restaurant between approximately eight and ten. When you returned here, you noticed no damage to the external door. You had left none of the veranda windows open, while one in the bedroom appears to have been forced. You noticed that the wardrobe door was open and clothes had been disturbed.’
‘We told you all this nearly an hour ago,’ Hildegard protested.
‘Please allow me to finish,’ the inspector said, displaying discoloured teeth.
Mavros looked at his fingers — on his right hand, two bore yellow nicotine stains, though he had not dared to smoke in the Kerstens’ apartment. ‘Mr Rudolf, you went to the safe inside the wardrobe and immediately ascertained that your collection of coins had been disturbed.’
Kersten nodded wearily. ‘A preliminary inspection showed that thirty coins are missing — the majority of them Hellenistic, but some Roman, Byzantine, Arabic and Venetian.’
‘As soon as you can give me precise information and descriptions. .’
‘First thing in the morning,’ the German said.
‘What is the value of these coins?’ Margaritis asked.
‘Some of them are very rare. I would estimate at least fifty thousand euros.’
‘All right, Inspector, that will have to suffice.’ Hildegard Kersten starting shooing the policemen out of the room. ‘My husband is not well. You will have your information tomorrow.’
Margaritis got up and walked slowly towards the door, his shoes scuffed and unpolished. ‘Family friend, my ass,’ he said to Mavros in a low voice, as he passed. ‘I know exactly who you are. Keep out of my hair.’
‘Delighted,’ Mavros said, eyeing the greasy strands that only partially covered the inspector’s cranium.
‘Mr Mavro — Alex — thank you for coming,’ Rudolf Kersten said, waving him to the table. He suddenly seemed much less tired. ‘I would like to hire you to get my coins back.’
‘That’s not the kind of work I do,’ Mavros said, sitting next to the old man. ‘Besides, I’m already working a case.’
‘Can’t you handle the matters side by side?’ Hildegard asked, sitting at the head of the table.
Mavros shrugged. ‘Possibly, but you must understand that I am contracted by the production company, so I’ve got to give the search for Maria Kondos priority.’
‘That’s quite all right,’ Kersten said, smiling loosely. ‘You see, we know who took the coins.’
‘You. .’ Mavros broke off. ‘Did you tell the inspector?’
The elderly couple exchanged glances.
‘No,’ Kersten said. ‘We cannot do that. You see, the thief is our. . is our grandson.’
Mavros sat back in his chair. He was used to dealing with family feuds, but till now they had always been between Greeks. Maybe the Kerstens were more naturalized than he’d realized.
‘His name is Oskar Mesner,’ Hildegard said. ‘He was always the black sheep of the family. Our daughter Franziska married a most unsuitable man, a tiler, if you please, a drunkard and a leech. Oskar has taken after him in all senses.’
‘And you suspect he’s in Crete?’
‘We know he’s in Crete,’ Rudolf Kersten said. ‘He’s in Chania with an unsavoury group of individuals.’ He scribbled an address on a piece of paper. ‘Will you go here and ask him for the coins, please? You may offer him ten thousand euros in recompense.’
Mavros looked at each of them. ‘Three questions. What proportion of your collection are the missing coins?’
‘Numerically, about five per cent. In terms of value, rather less. I should keep them in a safety deposit box, but I like to look at them on a daily basis.’
The rich man and his foibles, Mavros thought. ‘Why don’t you go and talk to Oskar yourselves?’
‘Because he hates his grandfather,’ Hildegard said. ‘He thinks he betrayed his country by coming to live here.’
Mavros intended to come back to that. ‘If you want to pay Oskar off, why did you involve the police?’
‘Ah, that was unfortunate,’ Kersten said. ‘One of our gardeners saw someone coming out of the rear window. He gave chase, but the individual ran to the gate and got away in a waiting car.’
‘Which will be on the gate’s CCTV.’
‘No doubt,’ the resort owner said. ‘But I won’t be giving that to the police.’
‘Ah. Tell me, what should I know about this Oskar? Is he, for instance, two metres tall and a hundred and thirty kilos of muscle?’
Hildegard got up from the table and returned with a photograph, showing a thin man in his late twenties, his blond hair cut short and tattoos on his puny forearms.
‘And the unsavoury group he hangs out with?’ Mavros asked.
‘Some of them came here once with Oskar,’ Kersten said. ‘Skinheads, layabouts. I gave them food and beer and they left quietly enough.’
‘You could go now,’ Hildegard said. ‘You can’t do anything to find the Kondos woman at this time of night.’
‘I could sleep so I’m in good shape to carry on the search for her tomorrow.’
Rudolf Kersten stood up stiffly. ‘Alex, if you do this small thing for us, I will pay you a thousand euros.’