1 The Assassins' Village

by Faith Mortimer

  Steve and Di nodded their agreement. Steve was eager to be away and back home. The thought of a shower, his dinner and a long cold beer or two was beginning to become foremost in his thoughts. He wasn’t happy about what had occurred here today, but he was human. ‘Of course.’

  Diana looked morbidly intrigued by what the young doctor had just said. She had stated in not so many words that Leslie had been murdered…that much was only too obvious. Steve imagined it was the doctor’s reaction to the bruises that interested Di. But he did realise there was something else that would affect everyone living here, and he wondered if Di had the same thoughts.

  There was a murderer living amongst them. Nothing would ever be the same. Until he was caught, every person living in Agios Mamas would spend their time looking over his or her shoulder.

  Far away, down in the valley, a hunting owl screeched as it took its first victim of the night. Diana turned her face to where the sound came from and shivered.

  Chapter 11. Monday, the following day

  The attempt and not the deed confound us.

  Macbeth. Act 2 Scene 2

  ‘Bernard! Bernard! Where are you?’

  Jenny stood at the foot of their stairs leaning against the wooden banisters. Breathing erratically, she slipped the lead from around the neck of their dog. He immediately went out into the courtyard and slopped greedily at its water bowl.

  ‘Up here my dear. Whatever’s the matter? You do sound a bit agitated.’

  Bernard’s head appeared from behind the bathroom door; in his hand he was clutching a copy of the first two acts of Tony’s latest play.

  ‘Oh! You’ll never guess what’s happened. It’s dreadful! Awful!’

  Jenny’s breath came in short rasps as she put a fluttering hand to her chest. She gave a wheeze and then a little cough.

  ‘Just a minute and I’ll be down.’

  A short pause, followed by the sound of running water preceded Bernard who appeared in the doorway and then carefully made his way down the stairs to where Jenny waited below. He had hurt his back yesterday and was suffering from a bad case of stiffness and a possible pulled muscle.

  ‘What is it? Now, for goodness sake calm down or you’ll bring on one of your asthma attacks. Sit down over here.’

  Bernard took her by the arm and led her over to the settee in their living room, his face grave with concern. ‘There now, let’s start at the beginning. Do you want a glass of water first?’

  ‘No, no I’m all right really. Don’t fuss so! Listen! It’s to do with Leslie and Sonja. Well Leslie really. He’s been found dead! Apparently, he broke his leg when he fell over a steep ledge into a vineyard.’

  Bernard’s mouth opened in surprise at this bombshell and immediately sat down opposite his wife. ‘What? Good heavens! Where? How do you know all this?’

  ‘Well, I’ve just been talking to Elaine. She said that Di and Steve found him when they were out walking yesterday afternoon. It was on the track; you know the one that goes down to the river.’

  ‘Good Lord. Bloody hell! And does she know how it happened?’

  ‘Only what they’ve told her. And that is, they found him after he’d fallen down the slope. He was lying on his back with a broken leg. Apparently, they could tell that by the strange angle it was lying at. Ooh! How horrible!’ she gave a shudder and then continued. ‘Anyway, he was dead by then. Isn’t it all too ghastly? I do feel sorry for him. I mean, I know we didn’t like him, especially you and justifiably, but even so. Then there’s poor Sonja and in the middle of moving house too. I never did find out just why they were moving. I wonder how she’s going to cope with all this now. Perhaps she won’t bother to move after all.’

  Bernard half listened in silence as Jenny chattered on with nervous excitement. He carefully weighed her words before he asked. ‘And at about what time did all this occur?’

  “I don’t know for certain. We’d have to ask Di and Steve the exact time.’

  Bernard thought carefully for a moment as he went back over the last time he’d had a proper conversation with Leslie; their meeting had not actually been pleasant. Once upon a time they’d been quite cordial to one another. Not true close friends; they had both too much of the primo uomo in them. Although Bernard took his acting fairly seriously, it had been Leslie who had even greater aspirations with regard to his art. Leslie had long been convinced that a gallery owner of international importance would notice him. Then, he’d be signed up with a big fat contract and numerous commissions would start rolling his way. Leslie had often been heard to say, that it was only because I am here in Cyprus, a bit of a backwater place that I haven’t been discovered. The local market was all very well, but he knew he was destined for better. As he kept telling anyone who’d listen, it was only a matter of time.

  Bernard was far more prosaic about it all. He enjoyed whatever parts came his way, and loved the stage. The difference between them was that for Bernard it wasn’t his entire world. He adored his pretty little wife Jenny, and loved their varied life together in Cyprus. He interspersed his acting with a little bit of gardening, or fossil hunting whenever the mood took him. They had a good circle of friends both Cypriot and expatriates. Leslie did nothing except paint and look for female diversions.

  The only black drawback in their cosy life was a certain lack of funds, and for that he blamed Leslie. He became aware that Jenny was still talking to him.

  ‘Sorry my dear, what was that you said again?’

  Sighing in exasperation Jenny rolled her eyes at him.

  He knew along the lines of what she was thinking. He heard her say it all a thousand times before. ‘Why was it men never listened? What was it called these days? Selective hearing. Funny though, you always hear perfectly well when asked if you want a drink.’

  ‘I said. Perhaps we should go round and talk to Steve and Diana? You know, find out a bit more.’

  Bernard nodded. ‘Mmm. Good idea. Maybe we should. What about Sonja? They might know if she needs anything doing and it would be a good idea anyway to talk to them first before we intrude on her. She must be very shocked and upset. I presume she is at home and knows…?’ his voice trailed off. It would be difficult. Sonja had always been a bit of an odd woman, naturally anti-social and it was possible that she wouldn’t want or need her neighbours’ well-meant overtures of help. What was it about this village, he thought? They certainly possessed more than their share of odd single women. Alicia and Antigone, even Yanoulla was out of the ordinary. Sonja could well be added to the number; more than a veritable witches’ coven he concluded uncharitably. The village should be renamed ‘Agios Witches, he thought a trifle sourly. Talk about “the wyrd sisters, hand in hand” or even – he smiled at this – “When shall we three meet again? In thunder, lightning, or in rain?”

  ~~~

  They walked the short distance through the village to Steve and Di’s house. Bernard took it slowly over the cobbled path, nursing his back from the day before.

  He grumbled. ‘As I’m not getting any younger it’ll probably take weeks to mend you know.’

  Jenny just laughed at him for being a miserable old codger and asked what he had been doing. Feeling hurt at her offhand remark he refused to answer and carried on muttering under his breath. As they rounded a corner they bumped into a tall burly figure. Bernard raised his hand in greeting.

  ‘Kalimera, Kristiakis. How are you today?’

  ‘Kalimera, Bernard and Jenny. I am very well, and you?’

  Kristiakis was fifty-ish, vital and muscular with thick, dark curly hair reaching nearly to his shoulders. As he worked outdoors most of the year, the physical work promoted a deeply-tanned face and body; his features proud and strong. He possessed dark-blue piercing eyes that smiled as he towered over the diminutive Jenny. He was very handsome, smoulderingly sexy, and looked very Eastern. Bernard noticed Jenny returning his smile. Bernard guessed what she was thinking; he could read her like a book.

  She asked Kristi
akis whether he had heard the dreadful news.

  Kristiakis nodded his dark shaggy head in affirmation. The smile left his face and his eyes became guarded.

  ‘Bad business. Very bad,’ he hesitated as if he was about to add something else. He paused, and then in a gruff voice excused himself and moved on back down the road. Jenny noticed he was carrying a small bag. She waited until he was out of sight and ear before turning to Bernard and hissed. ‘Give you three guesses as to where he spent last night!’

  ‘Oh Jenny! That is naughty. He is over twenty-one you know.’

  ‘Huh. I wonder if today is a Saint’s day. You know the Orthodox Church says that couples are not supposed to sleep together on the eve of a Saint’s day. Fancy saying when you can’t have sex! Although, I believe I’ve heard somewhere that the Church has now decreed that it’s permissible if the couple have a shower before attending the service.’

  Bernard gave a sigh of exasperation as she prattled on.

  ‘Anyway, what I really meant was that he and Yanoulla must be lovers. He’s always round there according to Ann. I don’t know how she does it. She’s at least ten years older than him.’

  ‘Jenny! Don’t be such a busybody. I don’t mind Kristiakis and surely, it’s their business not yours.’ He regarded her crossly. As much as he loved his wife, she was a terrible chatterbox and scandalmonger. Never intentionally malicious, but everybody’s business always interested her.

  ‘Oh I know. But he has been seeing her for so long now, and I really doubt whether he plans to marry her.’

  Jenny set off once more along the cobbled path, carefully watching out for loose stones. Following in her footsteps Bernard hurried to catch up with her.

  ‘You don’t know that for sure. Anyway, she’s been good for him in lots of ways. Look how years ago he distrusted all the British. It took a long time for him to eventually turn his back on his wild young days. You’ve got Yanoulla to thank for curbing his violence and bitterness.’

  Jenny rolled her eyes at Bernard. ‘Hum. But has he really? I too haven’t forgotten the old stories about his EOKA days as a terrorist, or freedom fighter or whatever they call them nowadays, and of his attacks on British soldiers. This isn’t called the “Assassins’ Village” for nothing you know. Still, I suppose at least he talks to us now, and he does offer us help if we need it.’

  ‘The assassins bit goes way back before the trouble with the British. I wonder how he heard about Leslie. I suppose word gets round like wildfire in a village this size. Do you know he thoroughly disliked Leslie himself though?’

  ‘No. Why?’ She looked astonished that Bernard knew something she didn’t.

  Bernard took a breath and paused before continuing. ‘Well apparently, it’s because Leslie was ex-military and had been over here during the troubles. I don’t know the full story, but there was some strange talk about reprisals and Leslie may have been involved. I repeat, only may have,’ he regarded her sternly.

  ‘How do you know all this? And why have you never told me this before?’ She demanded.

  ‘Because my little dove, it was told to me in confidence and you know how you love to chatter.’

  Jenny opened her pink-lipsticked mouth to argue, an angry glint in her usually cool green eyes. She drew up her ample chest ready to argue.

  Bernard chuckled at her expression. ‘Don’t look at me like that. You know I’m right for once and anyway, no arguing now as we’re here. Don’t mention to Diana and Steve what I’ve just told you please. It was told to me in trust.’

  ‘Yes, but what was Leslie doing back here then and why…?’

  Bernard raised his eyebrows at her to be silent as he reached out to ring the doorbell.

  Chapter 12. Monday morning

  Methought I heard a voice cry, “Sleep no more!”

  Macbeth. Act 2 Scene 2

  As if yesterday’s events hadn’t shocked and disturbed them enough, Steve awoke after a particularly troubled night and with a deep sense of foreboding. He and Diana were going to be pestered at every available opportunity until the novelty died down. He knew that underneath most people’s thin veneer of correctness, there lay an almost ghoulish need for a taste of other people’s misfortune. Today would be grim. His beautiful Diana hadn’t been herself recently and her health worried him. Not that she would do anything about it, as over the years she’d developed a strong aversion for ‘traipsing to the doctors’ as she put it.

  When they finally arrived home last night they found an anxious Elaine waiting for them together with their immediate neighbours, Peter and Ann. Naturally they all wanted to discuss the awful thing that had happened in their normally sleepy little village. They were avid for the latest news.

  Earlier, before they reached their house, they agreed that he and Di would do exactly as the police had instructed. They would not divulge any of their suspicions or mention what they had found… apart from that already leaked to the public. The story was: Leslie had slipped whilst out taking his normal walk; he’d fallen down a slope and broken his leg. Unfortunately, it looked as if he’d also injured his head. So, unable to move he couldn’t raise the alarm and subsequently died. The police could divulge other aspects of the event when they chose. Di and Steve would not breathe a word about Leslie having his throat cut. The last thing they wanted was to tell everyone there was a murderer loose in the village.

  ‘But a fall down into a vineyard, why didn’t he yell for help?’ asked Ann. She looked across at Peter to back up her comment.

  Peter was about his wife’s age. His short chubby stature suggested a fondness for halloumi and chips and plenty of local Keo beer and wine. His belly ran to a definite ‘pot’ or ‘wok smuggling’ as Di jokingly called it in the privacy of her home. His thinning, sandy hair completed the picture. Not in the best of shape, but both Steve and Di liked their neighbours’ good-heartedness.

  ‘It is all a little strange and very bad luck really. But if you think about it, he fell, broke a leg, banged his head, and he could hardly have called for help, could he? A terrible run of events,’ Pete said finishing the glass of red wine he’d been drinking whilst waiting for Steve and Di to arrive home. He put his empty glass down on the low table in front of him, hoping for a refill. Uncharacteristically mean, Steve deliberately ignored his friend’s movement; if he offered another they would never get rid of their unwanted guests. All he desired was for some peace and quiet and his long-overdue dinner.

  Instead he replied to Peter’s summations. ‘Look the police don’t want us speculating on any of this. They are going to visit everyone in the village and ask their questions then. I expect they’ll want to properly interview everybody who was here at the time.’

  Unfortunately he did nothing to dispel their inquisitiveness.

  ‘Oh and why is that? What can we tell them? Leslie was always out walking, as you well know. He went for miles. Sometimes Sonja would have to go and look for him in the car, as he’d get lost or gone too far and couldn’t make it all the way back home. Silly man! Look where it’s landed him.’ Ann looked around at the others as she made her remarks. Her northern forthrightness was, as usual, quick off the mark.

  ‘Ann!’

  ‘Well, it’s just routine, I’m sure,’ said Steve quietly.

  The others fell silent and looked at him. Perhaps it was his tone or the quiet way he had spoken, but he quickly realised they sensed something was amiss. Ann sat forward on her chair, and opened her mouth to ask another question. Elaine forestalled her. She stood up, glancing at her watch.

  ‘Look at the time! I’m sure Steve and Di are starving. Why don’t we say goodnight, no doubt we’ll see you two sometime tomorrow?’

  Peter and Ann acted contrite despite knowing they would elicit no more information until tomorrow at the earliest.

  ‘Sorry we didn’t think. You know, what with all the excitement and everything.’

  Steve breathed a quiet sigh of relief. Dinner and a cold shower at last, life had to
go on.

  ~~~

  Di awoke bleary-eyed as the sun glided above the nearby hill. For hours she’d twisted and turned in deep, muddled sleep. In her unconsciousness she had been drifting in a dream-sea of a soft, silky cocoon. First, she tried to untangle the silken threads as they wound themselves around her restless body and legs. When she finally gave in, she felt herself being pulled relentlessly down into a void of deep velvet black. Drifting slowly like a feather, she heard the muted sound of a newborn, snuffling and gasping as it took its first breath. She pondered on this as the soft sounds changed to a high wail that wavered between that of a baby and a young girl. The wailing increased to a thin crescendo until it was suddenly snuffed out. The noise lay imprinted on her eardrum.

  Di struggled to regain consciousness, and found herself filled with a strange deep depression and lassitude. She turned on to her side to find Steve wide-awake, regarding her with a troubled expression.

  ‘Morning,’ she said with a sigh and snuggled closer into his arms. ‘You’re awake early.’

  ‘Morning yourself, sleepyhead. You’ve slept later than usual. I wish I could say the same. I found it impossible to get to sleep. Too much going through my head I suppose after yesterday’s shock. You look like you need another hour or so though,’ he brushed a tangle of hair from her face.

  ‘I did drop off eventually, but oh! I still feel whacked out,’ she gave a great yawn. ‘I had the weirdest of dreams. Shall I tell you?’

  ‘No. Other people’s dreams are boring. Would you like some tea?’

  ‘Yes please. But, Steve this dream was so real. It was really scary at the end. I dreamt of something like a baby wailing, and then it just stopped. It’s made me feel very odd. And… miserable,’ she looked forlorn as she remembered the vividness of her nightmare.

  ‘It was just a dream,’ he replied, giving her a gentle smile. ‘Don’t think about it. I won’t be long with the tea. You just relax, I’ve told you. You’ve been overdoing it lately and what with all this happening yesterday. What do you expect? You’re bound to feel miserable. I know I do.’ He planted a quick kiss on her bare shoulder before rolling off the bed.