by James Jones
“I heard you declared the girl’s death accidental.”
“That is correct. Why? Does that case interest you, too?”
“No. But I happened to be there when they found her. And I got a chance to look her over pretty closely. It looked to me like she was murdered.”
“Oh? The medical examiner and I did not think so. Nor did any of the other officers who examined her. What made you think that?” He raised his thick eyebrows at me.
He knew I knew the medical examiner on Tsatsos was the tottery old mortician. And I knew the other officers were Pekouris’s constabulary: his fat chief and the chief’s two muscle-headed patrolmen. That was no great answer to give me.
“Well, it looked to me as if she had been hit twice, two separate times,” I said. “By the same propeller. Two in-boards would be spaced too far apart to do that in one pass. Even double outboards aren’t that close together. And those wounds didn’t look like they were caused by ordinary outboards.”
“We noted that point. And we took it into account.”
“There weren’t any abrasions on her face from the bottom of a boat,” I said.
“She could have been struck from behind.”
“That’s true. But the wounds looked to me as though she were hit from in front.”
Pekouris shrugged, and moved his still-raised eyebrows slightly. “We think she was struck from behind.”
“And of course,” I said, “there’s always the tourist season coming up in ten days.”
“I think you’re stepping over the bounds a little.”
“Excuse me,” I said.
“I am still the legal authority here. Your only recourse, if you think me wrong, is to go over my head to my superiors in Athens.”
I nodded. “I would never do that. I only wanted to give you the benefit of my thinking, since I happened to be there. I was sure you would want to know every opinion.”
“I appreciate your concern. And your thoughtfulness. But I do not honestly feel that anything you have told me changes our opinion.”
I nodded again. “Well,” I said. I got up.
“The order from my superiors in Athens about you still stands, by the way, Davies. I assume they would include this new case of the girl in it. I’m quite prepared to carry the order out, you know.”
“Don’t worry,” I said. “You won’t have to do anything like that.”
“I hope not. You know, we went over the aspect of murder, too. I am not accustomed to ignoring serious murders. But just for example, there is no motive. We were unable to find anywhere any motive for killing the girl.”
“There could be a lot of motives. For instance, this boy Chuck—who we think may have killed Stourkos—might have knocked off the girl for the same goofy reasons he killed Girgis. If he did.”
“If he did, you have no worries.”
“How do you mean?”
“Well, if you were able to get hold of that machete, for yourself of course, and the tests proved out as we expect and hope, the girl’s murderer will have been caught, too, will he not?”
“I only used that as an example,” I said.
“You have other theories?”
“No. But I’ve changed my mind about quite a few things since we talked the other day. Quite a few new little things have turned up.”
“Such as what?”
“Did you know Ambassador Pierson is a heroin addict?”
“Yes. That is well known. Even in Athens. We have done nothing, for obvious reasons. Your country would not be happy if we arrested a former American Ambassador as a heroin addict.”
“Did you know that Jim Kirk has been bringing heroin on the island for the Ambassador?” I said.
“No. That I didn’t know. But for myself, I don’t mind that very much. A little heroin for the Ambassador.”
“Nor do I,” I said.
“Then how have you changed your opinion?”
“I haven’t, really. Not yet. It’s just that things seem a little bizarre around Tsatsos.”
“I am aware that you had an, uh, shall we say, certain affection for the dead girl, Davies,” Pekouris said thinly. “I don’t think you should let that carry you away, out beyond your reasoning abilities.”
I gave him a slow blink and just looked at him. I hadn’t told him about Chantal. And I hadn’t told him about the presence of Pete Gruner on the island. Maybe he already knew both. But if I ever intended to tell him, I sure wasn’t going to, now.
“The fact remains,” I said, “that whoever killed the girl even accidentally is guilty of a crime if he did not immediately report the accident. Doesn’t it?”
He moved his head. “It is entirely possible someone might have struck the girl and not even known it. However, I intend to look into that particular matter when I return from Athens.”
“I’d like to look into it with you,” I said.
“I would be glad to have you do so.”
“When do you think you’ll be back?”
“Oh, in five days. Perhaps a week.”
“When are you leaving?”
“This afternoon. On the evening plane.”
“I’ll give you a call when you get back,” I said. “It’s certainly an inconvenient time for you to be leaving. And an inconvenient length of time to be away.”
“You might be giving me a call before I come back, mightn’t you?” he said, and smiled.
“Yes. There’s that possibility, too,” I said. I opened the door.
“I’ll call you,” Pekouris said. “As soon as I return.”
In the hallway, as I left, I looked thoughtfully down at the dirt swirls and lint rolls still on the town hall floor. Nobody had swept out its corners since the last time I was there, it appeared.
As I came outside, the hot sun blinded me again.
“Where to now, Commodore?” Sonny said when I jumped back on board.
I started to tell him to take me back home to the harbor. Then, instead, I changed my mind and told him to take me right back to the produce Port where we had been. I was still looking for Chuck and Gruner.
Chapter 43
I GOT MADDER AND MADDER as Sonny made the run back to Tsatsos.
I go in there with proof of Marie’s murder, and I come out with magnanimous permission to help him in a non-criminal accident case.
Pekouris’s slipperiness made me want to bite something. What a poker player he would have made. He was a master at confusing an issue, and a past master at avoiding a straight statement.
It could all of it be due to his precious tourist season. There was no reason to think not. They all seemed to love that tourist season more than life itself.
But if he was involved in a big illegal money-making deal, if he was getting a piece of it, if he was protecting someone, he would have acted the same. I didn’t think it was funny any more.
I had felt a lot differently when it was just Girgis’s murder. Then it was just a game, and I enjoyed playing it with him. Now was different.
If he was right, and Chuck was the killer, he would have his damned machete. I would get it for him. But if I turned up something entirely different about Marie, I wasn’t going to back away from it for anybody. He could go ahead and throw me out of Greece. By then I would have the goods on the case and he wouldn’t be able to stop it.
I sat on the coach-roof in the shade and sniffing the occasional mist of spray, tried to assess what I knew. I came out with just about zero. The beautiful summer weather over the sparkling sea was all gall and wormwood, to me.
When we tied up at the jetty, I bought another paper at the kiosk and walked up and took another table at a cafe. I had left my first paper in Pekouris’s office, from being so furious. I didn’t really want to read it, but it gave me a good excuse to be sitting there. I was looking for Pete Gruner.
What I found was blond Steve. He came walking up to the terrace from the other way, toward the Construction, and he was alone. Chuck wasn’t with him. He di
d not even have Diane with him.
He went on past and stopped by a display rack of yellow film at the corner of the little alley I knew. He seemed to be just loafing. He stood looking across the crowded tables out under the trees and over the harbor, with his vague stoned eyes.
I folded up my paper carefully and put it on the table with my Campari, to hold the table, and got up and walked over to him, before he could move away from the alley.
“I want to talk to you, bud,” I growled in my best private-eye voice.
People passing jostled us both.
“I don’t want to talk to you, Davies,” he said, and turned his slow sleepwalker’s look on me. It was just the response I needed. The one I was hoping for.
I took two steps into the alley and turned and reached back and grabbed him by his Mongol vest, and yanked him into the shaded alley with me. He came, as if launched from a slingshot. I could hear the sheepskin of his vest tearing. That cheap sewing. I got my other hand on him, too, and slammed him back against the building wall so hard his head bounced. I put my left forearm across his throat and pushed, hard. His face turned red. I turned my hip to him so he couldn’t knee me if it should occur to him.
He didn’t even try. I left him like that for a little bit.
Outside on the sidewalk a few inches away people gabbled and jostled each other, or talked merrily, or shopped at the display rack of yellow film. None of them noticed us. I hadn’t thought they would.
I didn’t even think any of them even noticed his sudden slingshot launching, and disappearance. If anybody looked in, they didn’t interrupt us.
Steve’s face was getting the slightest tinge of blue. I relaxed my forearm a little. He made a strangling noise and whooped for air.
“Now,” I said softly. “I don’t want any lip. I don’t want any back talk. I don’t want any philosophy.”
He opened his mouth. I pushed with my arm.
“No. Don’t talk. Don’t say anything. Just listen.”
As his face got redder I let up a little.
“I want to know where your buddy Four Eyes is. Your buddy Chuck. I want to know where he is right now, this minute. Not where he was half an hour ago. Not where he’ll be an hour from now.”
Steve tried to crane his neck.
“No. Not yet,” I said, and pushed with my arm. “Don’t be in a rush. When I let up on my arm, you tell me where your buddy is. Okay? Now.”
“I sent him over to St. Friday’s,” Steve croaked.
I pushed down on him by sheer reflex. “Don’t play games with me, son. I’m not here to fart around. Not today. Now where is he?” I let up a little.
Steve tried to swallow. It seemed to hurt him. I was glad. “It’s the truth,” he whispered. “I sent him to St. Friday’s. He’s been upset about Sweet Marie dying. I sent him over there for another three-day fast. He was beginning to get into fights.”
“How long ago did he leave for there?”
“Maybe an hour ago.”
“How’s he getting there?”
“He’s walking. Along the coast road. I made him walk.”
“If this is a con,” I said through clenched teeth, and grinned, “I am perfectly capable of putting you in the local hospital, if there is one. I’d be happy to take you right out of here with me, and take you to find him yourself.”
“It’s the truth,” he whispered. “Honest.”
I jammed my arm into him once more, viciously, and took a step back. I guessed I was feeling bloodthirsty, after all that had happened to me in the past few days. I caught his throat in the crotch of my left hand and balled my right fist.
“Get ready,” I said, and hit him in the belly with my right as hard as I could.
He doubled over, whooping silently. Muscle boy that he was, there wasn’t much of the fighter in him. I put my palm in his face and hooked my fingers under his chin and straightened him up. He was white.
“No, you don’t,” I said. “You’re not going to vomit, and you’re not going to fall down. You’re going to walk right out of here, just as if you were a big grown-up man. Because if you don’t I’ll kick your teeth in.”
He turned without a word and walked toward the merrily cackling sidewalk. I jabbed him in the kidney.
“Straighten it up.”
Outside on the walk he turned right and started blindly toward the newspaper kiosk. I guessed that was where he was heading before I grabbed him. I went back to my table and sat down and picked up my paper and unfolded it.
I was feeling pretty good. Better than I’d felt in days. My side was hurting but I didn’t care. I felt fine. But I had to make my plans. I looked around for Sonny.
Just as I did, I saw Pete Gruner come onto the terrace from the direction of the Construction. I folded my paper under my arm and left money on the table and went over to Gruner.
“I’ve been looking for you,” I said. “I want to talk to you. It’s pretty important. But I haven’t got time now.”
“Well, I want to talk to you, too,” Gruner smiled. “That’s the second time. Great minds run in—”
“Never mind the gas,” I said. “I’ve got to go somewhere right away. Can you be at Dmitri’s taverna in two hours? Better make it two and a half. No, make it three. Three hours?”
Gruner looked at me quizzically. “I’ll be there.”
I nodded, and left him. Sonny was back at Georgina’s table, and I went over there. Young Stevie-boy was sitting there too, now. But Stevie-boy was looking glum and wasn’t saying much. I touched Sonny and motioned him to come away with me.
“I want to go somewhere,” I said, as we walked toward the kiosk and the cobbled walk down to the jetty.
I wasn’t much worried about Stevie-boy getting his speedboat and following us.
Chapter 44
THE COAST ROAD WAS easy to follow by boat. You couldn’t very well miss it. But west of the Port there were a lot of coves and inlets the road cut inland to skirt. I was afraid we might lose Chuck in one of these and miss him.
“Do you mind telling me what’s up?” Sonny asked, as he followed my instructions about going back into the inlets.
“Never mind,” I said. “Just do what I tell you. That’s what Freddy Tarkoff pays you for.” I didn’t know what I was going to do with him when I found him. But I meant to find him if I had to walk the road.
We finally found him along a long ugly straight stretch. He was trudging along in the sun with his Kelty packframe on his back. Even from a hundred yards out I could see he was wearing his machete. I hadn’t thought I’d be that lucky.
“Pull in there. Up in front of him,” I said to Sonny. “Where there’s sand.” The sand, when we got to it, was half mud. That was what made the place look so unappetizing.
“Hey!” I called. “Hello!” Under me the bow nudged into the sand gently. Chuck looked at us a minute, then came walking down onto the sand.
“What are you doing out here?” I called.
“Going to St. Friday’s,” he said sullenly.
“Well, come on,” I called. “We’ll give you a lift.”
“You will? Really?”
“Sure. Why not?”
“I could sure use a ride, man.” He came down to the water’s edge. When he got that close, I could see he had been weeping. He was still sniffing, and wiping his nose. Dirty streaks ran down both his cheeks. He kicked off his sneakers.
“Here,” I said. “Hand me up your pack.”
He came out into the water and passed it up.
“Pass me your machete,” I said. “So it won’t get wet.”
He pulled the scabbard off his belt and handed it up, without a word. I laid it on the seat bench beside the pack.
Behind me Sonny was keeping his mouth laudably shut.
“Now. Give me your hand.” I leaned down. He came on out up to the bottoms of his shorts. I got hold of his hand and heaved, and he clambered up over the rail.
“There,” I said amiably. “Sit down. T
his beats hoofing it.” I moved my head at Sonny, and he began backing us off.
“It sure does,” Chuck said, and sniffled, and wiped his nose. He looked glum. He sat down by his pack and machete.
I sat down myself. But I kept my feet under me.
“Why are you going to St. Friday’s?” I asked.
“I’m being punished.”
“I see you’ve been crying,” I said after a minute.
“Yeah,” he admitted, and began to sniffle again.
“Why are you being punished?”
“Because I took the speedboat out yesterday by myself,” Chuck said. “Without asking permission.”
I felt fire surge up into my ears. I had to do a slow blink, to keep it from showing. “Who’s punishing you?”
“Steve,” he said, amiably enough, and sniffled. “Steve’s my mentor. So now I have to walk to St. Friday’s and do a three-day fast and walk back. That’s my penance.”
“Maybe we shouldn’t be picking you up, then.”
“I won’t tell him,” he said. He looked up, “If you won’t?”
“I won’t tell him. But it seems to me he’s a little hard on you,” I said.
He agreed. “He is, sometimes, man.”
We lapsed into silence. Chuck sat sniffling. Sonny had got us backed off, and was swinging the boat. We started chugging along the coast toward the next point in the hot, orange sun. I was still digesting what he’d said about the speedboat. It was hard to believe even he would volunteer a piece of information like that, without any reference at all to Marie.
I supposed if you wanted to you could feel sorry for him, on a kind of basic animal level. I had friends who would. I didn’t want to. He was enough to make you believe in euthanasia. Unless you were a liberal anarchist like me. His mental processes were on about the level of a smart dog.
“Do you have to do many of these penances?” I said.
He shrugged. “I had to do one couple days ago. I beat up some guy.” He grinned. “But I fooled Steve. I didn’t come all the way. I sneaked back.” His eyebrows popped up. “I never did figure out how Steve found out I didn’t come.”
This made me feel ridiculously pleased, since I was the cause. “Is a three-day fast hard to do?”