by Malia Zaidi
"The doctor’s report states the poison would have been consumed around noontime. You arrived at the villa at four, or thereabouts, I believe," Dymas waits for a nod from Daniel, "and Miss Carlisle discovered the body near that time. This is all correct, is it not?"
I shiver as the image of the poor man’s body pushes itself into my mind. I can almost feel his flesh, recalling the sensation of my fingers searching for a pulse on his still warm neck.
Daniel is starting to lose his composure just a bit. "So, he would have only been dead an hour, two at most?"
"Yes," Dymas nods gravely.
"If we had come back sooner!" Briony whispers what we are all thinking. There is a sorrowful desparation in her voice, and I am grateful to see Jeffrey clutching her hand.
"I am afraid, Mrs. Farnham, it would have been too late. The poison was taken with a large amount of wine and some olives. No other food. We have examined his room, and any open wine bottles on the premises and have not been able to find anything with traces of the poison. Nor was a bottle found near his body. The murderer must have taken it, and possibly his or her own glass away as he or she left. Mr. Ballantaine would have, in all likelihood, been suffering the effects quickly, judging from the amound in his system. We are still considering the idea that he may have been somewhat inebriated before ingesting it. Strychnine, as you may be aware, has a very bitter taste, so the amount of alcohol in his stomach would explain why he might not have had the …" his voice trails off as he searches for the word.
"The sense to taste it?" Daniel interjects. Dymas looks, if not pleased, at least appreciative at this assistance.
"Yes, thank you Mr. Harper. Depending on how much he had drunk, his senses would be dulled. When he swallowed the poison, only noting a bitter aftertaste, it would already have been too late. A sober man might have made himself sick to expunge it …" again his voice drifts off to let us find our own conclusions.
It seems Caspar was rather fond of drink. I thought it had been only at the party where everyone was jolly, but to be so beyond sense at twelve o’clock, strongly hinted at a deeper problem, which makes the situation all the more disturbing.
"Further, we have noted a small bruise on the side of his face. Not strong enough a blow to have knocked a tall man like him down, but it may be related. Unless he acquired it before?" He looks at us and we shake our heads.
"No, not to my recollection." Jeffrey adds.
"I shouldn’t have left him alone." Daniel closes his eyes for a moment, breathes deeply, opens them and gets to his feet. "Excuse me." He runs a visibly trembling hand through his dark hair and in long strides steps from the room. On impulse I stand up, notice everyone staring, and sit down again. What use would I be to him? He surely wants to be alone in his grief. From what I know now of his and Caspar’s relationship, they were almost like Briony and me. I banish the thought of anything happening to her from my mind, terrified of even allowing the possibility to exist.
"I am investigating this murder. I will be asking questions and require your absolute cooperation so we can discover what happened and give your friend peace." This last statement takes me by surprise, and I turn to look at him. He meets my gaze, only smiling sadly, and gets up. Everyone else rises as if by command, and we follow the inspector to the door.
"I will talk to the list of people who were at your dinner party last night," Dymas looks at Jeffrey. "At the moment, we have no leads as to who might have done this, therefore we must consider all the people Mr. Ballantine was in contact with. Again," now his gaze sweeps over the rest of us, still huddled around him in the hall, "if you can think of anything at all, any enemies or problems he may have had, let me know. You have my card, and you can contact me at the Miklos police station. I will leave now, but will be back when I have further questions or if new developments arise." He puts the hat he has been handed by Niobe on his head, covering his thick black curls, and disappears. Moments later, I hear the low rumbling of a motorcar.
For a moment all of us stand there, a forever-bonded little group. Then, as if a spell has been lifted, Niobe and the teary-eyed cook, a small plump woman with a kindly face, take off to their alotted domains. Jeffrey, Briony and I, as if by some unsaid agreement, head toward the conservatory.
Once we are comfortably seated, we begin to talk all at once. After some, "no, you go", and "please, go on" being politely offered, I begin.
"I only arrived yesterday, so I didn’t know him well at all, but was Caspar in the habit to drink in excess on a regular basis?" I put this as diplomatically as I can, not wanting to ask outright whether he was a habitual drunk.
"He was rather fond of the stuff," Jeffrey shakes his head and sighs. "But that it should come to this?"
"Was it commonly known?" I hesitate, trying to formulate the question without sounding harsh. "Did your acquaintances or people you met know of his problem? That it was his weakness? If so, someone might have seen an easy way to … to take his life." I finish feebly. I cannot bring myself to say "murder him." It is too fresh still and, for that matter, may always be.
"Surely you can’t think any of our friends would do such a thing!" Briony sounds shocked, though not as defensive as she might.
"I am only saying, if it was common knowledge that he liked to drink more than average, someone, some enemy—" I speculate, feeling a bit melodramatic, but finding no other word for it, "some enemy might have thought it would be the easiest way to, well, you know."
"I cannot imagine who—" Briony begins, more for the sake of speaking than real conviction.
Her husband interrupts her. "Caspar was not a bad man. He had problems, yes, but murder? To murder him, what motive could there be?"
"They say poison is a woman’s game."
Daniel’s voice startles us, and we swivel around to face him. He does not look angry or offended, which lets me exhale the nervous breath I am holding.
"Sit down, Daniel," Jeffrey motions to an empty chair. Daniel hesitates for a moment, then steps out of the doorframe, sitting in one of the light rattan armchairs.
"I am sorry. I shouldn’t have said that."
He looks contrite, though there is no need. We all sympathize and would tolerate a more empassioned outburst just as easily. having only known Daniel for a single day, I nonetheless feel as though we have been acquainted for years. This tragedy has brought us together, our little clan.
"Tell me if you’d like me to ease off the topic, but do you have any idea who might have wanted Caspar …" Even Jeffrey is unable to say it.
"Dead?" Daniel rubs chis chin and rests his elbow on the narrow arm of the chair. "No. I have thought about it all night, and I just don’t know."
"He might have offended some native Cretans. I’m afraid when I took him to market last week," Briony volunteers meekly, "he … he was a bit unsteady and might have made a grab for one or two of the women. I got him away before anything too upsetting happened."
"Murder for an inebriated grope sounds a bit far-fetched, Briony, though I suppose one never knows what goes on in people’s minds." Jeffrey raises an eyebrow and takes off his specs to pinch the bridge of his nose.
"You are probably right. Yet I wonder whether he ever …" I hesitate, suddenly awkward.
"He ever what?" Briony asks and everyone’s eyes are on me.
"Whether it ever went further than a harmless scuffle."
There, out it was. "Love and greed are so often at the root of any action. Of course, in this case it would be very drastic indeed."
"People here are tradition bound," Jeffrey begins, and I have to think of my aunt and the confines of tradition I tried to escape by coming here. "They are protective of family honor. If Caspar had … interfered with that, there would be repercussions. Usually it would involve a mean thumping, and that would settle it."
"I don’t believe it was a man. Men fight it out to defend their pride. It would not satisfy a spurned husband to quietly poison his rival." I look at both men present an
d detect the hint of a smile as I see Briony’s face from the corner of my eye.
"This is probably true. Although, if it was not the motive, then I cannot think of one at all. Caspar was, shall we say, not above an affair. Whether any husband knew of it, I cannot say." Daniel lifts his hands, palms out in a defeated gesture before he lets them drop limply onto his lap.
"The police will have a better idea of how to catch the guilty party." Briony concludes the conversation. She stands up, "I am sorry, but I must call Laria and tell her what has happened. She called earlier and left a message with Niobe. Please excuse me."
I wonder whether she is really calling Laria, or simply escaping to avoid having to hear further speculation on this ghastly matter. I wouldn’t blame her. Much as we are alike, we were raised very differently. Briony was protected by her parents like a fragile porcelain doll. During the war, they tried to hide newspapers and radios from her for fear of her hearing what might upset her. She is a gentle soul, and while I am not what one might call hardened, I believe she is still shielded as if by an armor from certain miseries that come with reality. I hope she will forever remain protected the way she has always been. A cynical Briony would be a loss of light in the world.
"I am sorry this is causing you all such distress," Daniel says, while we know his suffering must be far greater than our own.
Jeffrey waves a hand and shakes his head. "Please, Daniel. I will not hear of you blaming yourself for any of this. What happened is one person’s fault, and whoever it is will be found, of that I am confident."
"I wish I shared your confidence," a sad smile plays with the edges of Daniel’s mouth. "I do not know where to begin. On the one hand, Caspar lacks … lacked both tact and gentility, and on the other he could charm an ogre. I do not know whom he offended to such a degree." He lets out a breath. "It is all so unbelievable."
Unbelievable is truly the best word to describe the situation. Yet believe it we must.
"Inspector Dymas seems a competent man. Do you not think so?" I try to bring a degree of confidence into my tone.
"Yes, good man, Dymas." Jeffrey nods, clapping his thigh in one of those self-assured, meaningless gestures I have only ever seen men make.
"And he said he would keep us informed, which is all we can ask of him at this stage."
Daniel creases his brow. "I suspect he is being so agreeable largely because Caspar was a tourist. An Englishman dies on his patch, and he has the miserable task of having to investigate thoroughly. Otherwise, it will undoubtedly cast a shadow over Crete."
"Oh yes, they will be worried. I can see the newspaper headline once this gets out, ‘Englishman Victim of Cretans’ or ‘Crete: the Den of Cretins’. They will be doing what they can to resolve this and pronto!" Jeffrey waves a pointed finger.
As I open my mouth to reply, Niobe appears in the doorway. The men, not facing her, do not notice, so I smile and beckon her forward.
"Niobe," I wave a hand. She seems reluctant, her left hand holding the wooden pane as she hovers for another moment in the frame, looking like a painting.
"Niobe, is everything all right?" The men have turned toward the young woman, and Jeffrey looks up at her as he speaks.
"I do not know, Mr. Farnham. There is a man on the telephone. He wants to speak to you. He would not tell me his name."
"Not someone from the museum, then? Hm … right, lead on." Jeffrey gets up, gives Daniel and me an apologetic little grin and follows Niobe back into the main house.
For a moment, there is silence, and my mind returns to the last conversation we had with one another. The night of the dinner party. The night Caspar was still alive. Yesterday. As my mind flashes back to the scene, I remember a vague glimpse of him talking to the young maid before we left the house to go outside. Could he have acosted Niobe? I hope not. She appears to be a kind, if slightly melancholy young woman. I supress a shiver considering the chilling possibility of someone in this household being in any way involved in the whole ugly business. We were in town, which leaves the staff. The inspector apparently accepted their alibis. Still, I now wonder what Caspar said to make Niobe so ill at ease?
Daniel’s voice pushes my thoughts aside, and I avert my gaze, away from the fauna beyond the windows and back to his weary face.
"I must tell Caspar’s father before any outside news reaches him. Ballantine is not a common name, should it appear in a paper." Daniel rubs his temple, "I tried calling this morning, but missed him. He is in Brighton, visiting his sister and he won’t be back until the weekend. I will have to send a telegraph."
"Were they very close?" I lean forward a little in my chair, placing my hands on the table. My uncle Brendan once told me, people are more likely to trust you when they see your hands. Could be a load of hogwash, it was said after a few glasses of brandy after all, but worth a try.
"No, not really. It will be a terrible blow for him still. Caspar was his only child, his wife died in childbirth …"
"I see." I cannot think of what else to say.
"I grew up with him always around. He taught Caspar and me how to fish. It will be very difficult to tell him what has happened."
His words fill the space between us. Daniel needs to talk and, given the chance, I believe he will. His green eyes fix mine as if he is trying to assess whether I am worthy of his trust.
"Shall we take a walk?"
His suggestion surprises me, and I nod and get up. He leads me into the house and toward the front door. I couldn’t bear to walk the garden, passing the forever-branded spot. Surely Daniel feels the same. As we make for the door, Jeffrey comes back into view.
"Everything all right?"
"Yes, we are going for a walk. I can’t sit here all day wondering. Some movement will be good."
"Yes, yes," Jeffrey nods somewhat absentmindedly. I wonder who called him? "Good idea. You won’t be upset if I don’t join you? I have a mountain of work to look at."
"No, not at all," Daniel replies. "Where is Briony?"
"She is discussing something with the cook. To be honest," Jeffrey lowers his voice, "she is much more upset by all this than she lets on."
"Then maybe I should look after her?" My forehead tenses in concern.
"No, I will send her off to bed. You go for a walk. Take the road to Miklos. Daniel knows the way. It might be a nice distraction." As he says it, he knows it won’t be. Nevertheless, it is a kind thought and, I offer him a smile and pat his arm.
"We’ll do that." Almost as an afterthought I add, "I hope your mystery caller didn’t add any more to your work load."
Jeffrey goes very pale. "No, not really. It wasn’t a collegue, you see." He looks nervously from Daniel to me. "It was a man from the local newspaper, actually. A Davros Kanansakis, if I got that right. He, well he …" He stumbles over his words, and Daniel jumps in.
"He wanted to get the story?"
"I’m afraid so," Jeffrey does a nervous shuffle, shifting his weight from one leg to the other. It’s making me jittery just watching him.
"What did you tell him?"
"Nothing!" Jeffrey’s eyes grow wide and he stops his little dance.
"It’s all right, Jeffrey. I knew the vultures would smell a good story. I just don’t understand how they found out so quickly."
"News travels fast here. Someone at the Miklos police station might have told his wife, and she told her neighbor, and on and on the chain goes until everyone knows and the story is so wildly exaggerated, they might as well be recounting a fairy-tale."
"The nature of gossip." The fact that reporters are beginning to hound us already sets me on edge.
"You two go for your walk. I will check on Briony and get some of my work done." Jeffrey bestows a fatherly smile on us.
"Right, then. We will see you in a while."
CHAPTER 8
Daniel and I leave, making our way along the gravel driveway and toward the road. I am glad I remembered to grab my hat from the hallway stand as the sun is high and
bright. We walk in silence, the gravel underfoot crunching beneath the weight of our steps.
Upon reaching the road to the village leaving the house behind, a strange lightness comes over me as though a load bearing down on me is lifted the more we distance ourselves from the villa. From the scene of the crime. I look at Daniel, who straightens, and wonder whether it feels the same for him.
"Do you know many people on the island? You’ve been here how long now, a few months?" I watch his profile from below the brim of my straw hat. The sun has dappled his hair with streaks of amber and his skin, outside the house, has lost some of its pallor.
"Just a few locals. People we went sailing with, fishermen and Jeffrey and Briony’s friends you met at the dinner party." His mind must be drifting back to the night when, under the star-speckled sky, everything was peaceful and pleasant. I try to move our conversation onto a lighter path.
"Sailing? After the voyage on that ferry the Sirens themselves couldn’t coax me onto a boat. Don’t you find the sea terribly rough?" I watch with pleasure as a smile creeps into his face.
"Yes, it can be quite severe, but once you are in calmer waters, it is like nothing else in the world. The fishermen I have gone out with know exactly where the sea is peaceful and where the fish like to gather."
"I must admit, I haven’t been on many sea-vessels. I’m a city girl, though I did go punting at Oxford a few times. I suppose it is hardly comparable."
He turns slightly and gives me a curious glance."You studied there." It is not a question, which somehow pleases me.
"Yes, at St. Hugh’s. Not many of the colleges accept women, of course. St. Hugh’s always has. I read classics."
"Ah, so Greece must be a dream come true. Have you been here before?"
"Never, sadly. I really ought to brush up on my Greek skills. I am embarassed to admit, I am by no means fluent."
"That’s all right. So many of the islanders I have met have been very patient and try to speak English. Some speak it as well as you and I."