The Forty Column Castle

by Marjorie Thelen

  I was suspicious about the other three women. “Did you meet or talk to anyone while you were in the Northern section?”

  “Oh, no dear, not a soul.” She hurried on. “But what I was saying before was that Mrs. Crawford brought me to the airport and while I stood in line to check my luggage and get my seat she sat in the waiting area with my carry-on. That’s the only time anyone else had it. Then, because the plane was delayed, we said good-bye, and she left.”

  “Those English women may be smugglers.” I recounted the suspicions of the Cyprus authorities. “They don’t have much evidence. Catching you red-handed is their first break.”

  “How preposterous. My friends are not thieves. I’m not either. The idea.”

  Yannis came up behind Aunt Elizabeth and whispered in her ear. “But what do you really know about them?”

  She turned around. “Yannis, it is so nice to see you. I didn’t get a chance to greet you. Can you help me, dear? I can’t spend another night in this dreadful place.”

  He sighed and sat down beside her. “Unfortunately, you are not being accused of lifting a few tomatoes at the market. You are being tied to a circle of international thieves, and one which the Cypriot authorities are trying hard to break up.”

  “Please,” she said, resting her fingers on his arm to strengthen her plea, “help me. I can barely organize my kitchen, let alone mastermind an international smuggling operation.”

  “We know.” He patted her hand. “But we need to convince them.” He nodded toward the police. Then he broke the good and bad news. “They will let you go, but not until tomorrow. They say they need to process the papers, and we will need to post 50,000 Cypriot pounds as bond.”

  “Good heavens,” she said. “Isn’t that a bit much?”

  “They don’t want to lose you,” he said. “You cannot leave the island, and they will have twenty-four-hour surveillance on you.”

  “My, oh, my.” That’s all my aunt could say.

  “But I assure you,” he said, “we’ll be here at nine A.M. when the office opens to post bond.”

  He helped us both up from our seats.

  “Yes, of course, you will, dear ones,” said Aunt Elizabeth, but her voice started to quiver. “I know you are doing everything possible for me. I’m sorry to be so much trouble.” Tears filled her eyes, but she looked away and fussed with her hair. She wasn’t big on public displays.

  I hugged her tight, struggling to keep my composure after seeing her lose hers.

  The Inspector came over and broke in. “Miss Davies, I must escort you back to your cell. If you will allow me.” He offered his arm to her.

  He turned to me. “I promise we will take good care of your aunt. We will see you tomorrow morning.”

  I nodded and thanked him for his help.

  “Come, Miss Davies.”

  My aunt walked away on the Inspector’s arm. I felt helpless and inept. She would be all right, I kept telling myself. But I couldn’t help a pathetic sigh. Yannis grabbed my arm and hurried me from the room. At the car he smiled and showed me a slip of paper with a list of three names.

  “My aunt’s friends?” I asked.

  He nodded. “One of the policemen is a friend of my brother and is involved in the investigation. I persuaded him to share the names with me.”

  “Well done, Yannis. Shall we look up Aunt Elizabeth’s friends in Pafos?”

  Three

  Looking out to sea from a hill overlooking Pafos, I watched the sun sparkling on the Mediterranean. Thousands of gems shimmered on top of an azure sea. Sun flashing on water is Cyprus, at least for me, and I got lost in the beauty of it for a moment.

  Yannis and I were waiting for an answer to our knock at the door of a home perched on the hill. From where we stood, I could see pleasure boats on the harbor and the lighthouse near the Forty Column Castle. The breeze off the sea carried a warm caress.

  On the drive to Pafos I had called Zach’s cell phone. Since I had sleuthing to do, I wanted to tell him I wouldn’t be able to meet for a swim. He didn’t answer, so I left a message that I’d call later. I had to get this mess with my aunt resolved. If it meant taking matters into my own hands, I’d do it.

  Yannis knocked again on the weathered wood door. Just as I was beginning to think no one was home, the door opened and a Cypriot woman, attired in a plain cotton dress, greeted us.

  “Is Mrs. Crawford in?” Yannis asked her in Greek.

  The woman said the lady was sightseeing and would be back later.

  “Efkaristo,” I said. At least I knew thank you in Greek.

  I climbed in the left front passenger side of Yannis’s Mercedes. He yanked the steering wheel and gunned the motor to get back onto the narrow street.

  “I don’t understand why you had to come with me,” he said. “If this is an international smuggling ring, they could be dangerous.”

  “Because, my handsome friend, you might have needed someone to rush you to the hospital in the event an elderly woman tried to beat you to death.”

  I got a half smile and a look out of the corner of his eye.

  “Besides,” I said, “I wanted to meet my aunt’s new friends, the ones who might have led her astray. These fine palatial homes don’t look like a smuggler’s neighborhood.”

  “Not in the daylight,” Yannis shot back. He was more than annoyed with me. “We’ll try later this evening since the widows aren’t at home.”

  We rode in silence for a while, bouncing down the uneven, worn pavement.

  “We’re at a dead-end,” he said. “Let’s go to the beach you like above Ayios Georgios. It will cheer us both up and help our thinking process.”

  I pictured my aunt sitting in a jail cell while I was sunning on a beach. But I had done everything possible, down to arranging for bond and a lawyer, a relative of Yannis, of course. Her friends wouldn’t be around until later, and the beach wasn’t that far. We could go for an hour or two, then come back to try to find the widows. The sun was high in the sky, and it would be good to feel it on my skin. I needed to relax before I tied myself up in a super Gordian knot.

  “Okay, you’re right, let’s go to the beach.” I rummaged in my Coach purse and came up with the business card Zach had given me.

  “Zachariah Lamont, Security Consultant,” I read aloud. “Look, Yannis.” I held up the card for him to see. “Zach, my friend from the plane trip over, is in security. He never mentioned exactly what kind of consulting he did. Maybe he would know how to catch smugglers.”

  “I doubt it.”

  Being the perceptive person I am, my radar picked up on Yannis’s lack of enthusiasm for the addition of a male companion to our twosome.

  “Maybe not, but I’d like to talk to him. The Coral Beach Resort is on the way to the Ayios Georgios. Let’s stop by and invite Mr. Lamont to accompany us.”

  A grunt was his reply.

  * * * * *

  The man at the desk at the Coral Beach Resort said Mr. Lamont could be found in the health spa on the lower level. We crossed the lobby decorated in bright white lattice work and polished wood floors. Everything was open to the outside, and a pleasant breeze stirred the potted palms.

  The spa wasn’t big, and I spotted Zach on the Nautilus leg press. He was clad in white gym shorts. His muscular body glistened with sweat. His abs were model perfect, his deltoids nicely defined. He wasn’t bulky like a weight lifter but had the smooth lines of a competition swimmer.

  I discreetly took a deep breath to slow my pulse.

  He lowered the leg lift and smiled, as I walked toward the machine.

  “Hi,” he said. “Nice surprise.”

  I smiled but my tongue seemed to be glued to the roof of my mouth. The display of beautiful male flesh had rendered me speechless.

  Yannis came over and stood behind me.

  Zach shifted his gaze to take in the intruder.

  “He’s with me,” I said, ungluing my tongue. “This is my old friend, Yannis Vasilis.” I caught
Yannis scowl out of the corner of my eye, like he didn’t care for the term old.

  “Zach Lamont.” He held out his hand and the two shook, Zach with a friendly smile, Yannis without one.

  I cast about for something to say. “How do you like the hotel?” I asked. I decided to stick to the mundane. It was funny how my tongue was getting all twisted up trying to talk. I hadn’t had that problem before.

  “It’s improved greatly since you arrived,” Zach said, smiling into my eyes. “I have the day free day to relax.”

  “Speaking of relaxing,” I said, rushing, hardly taking a breath between syllables, afraid if I stopped I’d never get the words out, “we’re going to a lovely, rather isolated beach north of here, above Ayios Georgios, the church that sits near the beach. Would you care to join us?”

  He picked up a towel and wiped the sweat from his face and neck, as if giving the invitation serious consideration. He slid the towel over his chest and arms. I followed every move. My eyes were bolder than my tongue.

  “I’d like to,” he said with a grin. “Let me shower and change. Have you had anything to eat?

  “Yes, but I could use another cup of coffee. Couldn’t you, Yannis?” I hoped my pleasantries would offset Yannis’s frowning face.

  He crossed his arms and grunted.

  “Why don’t we wait for you at the restaurant on the outside terrace?” I said.

  “Great, I’ll see you there in fifteen minutes.”

  I slipped into the ladies room on the way to the restaurant and changed into black bikini bottoms under my skirt. I never traveled anywhere on Cyprus without bikini bottoms, beach towel, and sun tan lotion. Topless saved on half the price of a bathing suit, and I loved the feeling.

  I ransacked my brain for the right way to tell Zach about my aunt and enlist his aid, as I walked out to the terrace where Yannis was seated at a table decked out in blue and white checked cloth. If I could get my tongue to work, coming right out with the truth would probably be best.

  Yannis stood and helped me into a chair with a cushion that matched the table cloth. The table was next to the railing and overlooked the cove that the Coral Beach claimed as its own. A huge, meandering swimming pool stretched below us and beyond that a beach with a small harbor filled with pleasure craft.

  “We don’t need this guy’s help,” he said. His face was fixed in an unbecoming scowl, and he drummed his fingers on the table. “I have important contacts that we haven’t used yet.”

  “I’ve been mulling that over.” I propped my chin on my hand and looked at him. “I want to know what a security consultant does. Let’s ask and then decide.” I gave him a smile, trying to dispel the frown he’d adopted at the sight of Zach. “We may need all the help we can get.”

  Zach joined us in less than fifteen minutes. The waiter brought him a fresh cup of coffee and refilled ours.

  “Great coffee,” Zach said after sampling his. “Sure is nice to be back on Cyprus.” He looked around, taking in his surroundings. “This is my kind of living.”

  I nodded in agreement. The setting was spectacular.

  The waiter returned to take Zach’s order. He ordered breakfast even though we were well into the afternoon. We faced the sea, and the sun blazed on the water. Fair skinned Northern European tourists were scattered around on blue and white lounge chairs, working on a sun burn. A slight breeze blew the place mats up on the table, and Zach leaned forward to catch my napkin, as it tried to follow the breeze. Yannis seemed unaware of his surroundings. He sat with his arms folded across his chest, scowling into the distance.

  “What have you been doing?” Zach asked, directing his gaze at me.

  I shifted my gaze to the beach area, not wanting to rush into a reply. A striking couple who had very little on between them caught my eye. I watched them, as I thought what to say.

  At last, turning to him, I said, “I’ve been trying to get my aunt out of jail,” like I was giving the weather report.

  Zach’s reaction was in his eyebrows. They rose ever so slightly. “Nice way to spend a vacation,” he said. “What’s she in for?” He spoke as if we were discussing the possibility of rain.

  “Smuggling. Do you know anything about antiquities smuggling?”

  “I might,” Zach said.

  I returned his gaze. “You have my attention.”

  Yannis unfolded his arms and leaned in. At last, his interest was engaged.

  “Maybe you should elaborate on your aunt’s predicament first,” Zach said.

  I told him about the call from my aunt and her detainment at the airport. Zach interrupted with questions about small details. I went over Yannis’s efforts to get her out of jail and how we would bail her out in the morning.

  The smell of fried eggs and sausage wafted over the table, as the waiter set Zach’s meal in front of him. I continued as he ate.

  “The problem is it’s going to be hard to prove that she wasn’t trying to take a few small souvenirs out of the country, and the penalties are stiff.”

  “Yes,” Yannis said. “She could have remained in jail for a long time, but I have important connections, so I was able to convince the authorities that she should be out on bail.”

  I fixed an appreciative smile on my Cypriot friend and patted his arm to acknowledge his connections and his help. He was absolutely right. Without his web of relatives I would never have gotten to see my aunt today or arrange bail and a lawyer.

  A smile softened Yannis’s face, and he relaxed back against his chair. The sound of glass tinkling and the murmur of voices around us grew louder, as bathers wandered up to the patio for afternoon refreshments. Fragrance of coconut oil filled the air. The heat of the day intensified as the sun blazed overhead.

  Zach finished his last bite of chips and laid his fork over on the plate. “I did some private investigation in Texas a while back.”

  “Private investigator sounds good,” I said. “We could use that kind of experience on this case. Do you think you can help us?”

  Zach gave me a look, as if trying to assess how much it was worth, or if he wanted to get involved.

  “I mean, maybe you’re too busy,” I said, thinking I was taking a lot for granted.

  He kept looking at me and narrowed those intense dark eyes.

  Maybe his seeming reluctance had to do with money.

  “I will be more than happy to pay you. I guess I should have asked what your rates are.”

  The waiter took away Zach’s plate and topped off our coffee. Zach settled in a hunch over his.

  In that soft, Texas drawl he said, “We might be able to work something out.” His eyes said even more. I don’t think I was imagining what he meant, because Yannis picked up on it.

  “We don’t need to work anything out,” Yannis said. “I am perfectly cable of handling this for you, Claudie.”

  “My,” I said, “it’s getting hot. Anyone for a swim?”

  * * * * *

  Yannis’s Mercedes lurched down the gravel road, around a curve and up a rise that brought us to the beach. It was in a small bay covered with pebble sand, high cliffs on two sides where swallows darted and swooped, indifferent to our intrusion onto their private beach. No one else was around and that was the reason I liked coming here. It was isolated from the tourists.

  The waves lapped gently on the beach. The water was clear turquoise with flashing rhinestone top. I liked to snorkel in deep water, and on this beach the bottom dropped off to over thirty feet a short way out. The sea nettles tended to stay in the rocks in deep water, so they usually weren’t a problem.

  I put my beach towel close to the water’s edge so I wouldn’t have to walk on blistering pebbles, stripped down to my bikini bottoms, deciding it was Zach’s choice where he wanted to put his eyes. Yannis had seen me topless a hundred times before on the beach. I sat on the towel and smoothed coconut tanning lotion over my breasts, arms, legs, torso. Yannis stretched out on a towel on one side, propping up on an arm to watch. Zach sa
t on the other side and stared straight out to sea behind extreme dark sunglasses.

  “Zach, what’s your assessment of my aunt’s case?” I completed my beach ritual and lay back on propped arms, breasts tilted up to the sun, hair pulled into a loose knot on top my head. It felt great.

  “Her three women friends have to be found,” he said, turning his head in my direction but returning his gaze quickly to the sea. “You say you tried to contact these women. Would there be anyone else who might know something about them?”

  Yannis spoke up. “Lonnie Walters, the man who runs Escort Tours, would know who they are,” he said. “I hadn’t thought of him before. We found where the women are staying because my father knows the man who rents to them.”

  “Then we need to talk to Mr. Walters and the landlord,” Zach said. He kept his gaze trained on the sea.

  The view in my direction must have been blinding. I liked his use of the word “we” and smiled. A new member had joined the investigating team, payment to be worked out later.

  “Lonnie’s usually around on Sunday evenings,” Yannis said. “He hangs out at the California Bar along Pafos harbor. He’s American and that’s the place where you’ll find ex-pats Sunday evening.”

  “He’s supposed to be CIA,” I said. “But who knows? People speculate on it when conversation runs out over a drink.” I looked overhead. “What time is it?”

  Zach checked his watch. “About five.”

  “We can have a swim and then head back to track down Lonnie.”

  I waded out into the water, splashed around to stir up my blood, dove in head first, and came up facing them. “C’mon in, the water is freezing.” It was May, and the Mediterranean hadn’t warmed up yet.

  Zach stood and pulled off tan shorts and a deep blue polo shirt. He wore black Speedo bikinis. We matched. He sure did fill his out nicely. Yannis scowled his way into the water in navy bathing trunks.

  As I surveyed the beach from my vantage point in the water, parked on the cliff I noticed a battered blue Maruti that hadn’t been there when we arrived. A man stood beside the jeep-like vehicle. His arms were raised to his eyes like he was holding binoculars, and they were trained in our direction.