Angel of Death (13 page)

He did not answer the question, simply asked, ‘To whom do you wish to speak?’

‘Mrs Leigh, Pandora, please.’

‘Who wishes to speak to her?’

‘My name’s Miranda Grey.’

‘Please wait.’

A moment later Pandora said, ‘Hello? Miranda? How are you?’

‘I’m better, thank you. What about you? How are you feeling?’

‘I have to rest for hours every day, which is a bore, but I’m watching TV and videos and reading, and Charles and I play Scrabble most days. I like to sew and knit, but I’m afraid to make baby clothes in case it brings me bad luck.’

‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ Miranda said inadequately, feeling a pang of sympathy. Poor girl. She had heard the old superstition that it is not wise to make clothes for an expected baby, or buy prams or blankets, until very close to the birth, but she did not believe it. Yet in Pandora’s situation, having already lost other babies, it was easy to understand this reluctance to tempt fate.

‘I hope the fact that you’ve rung means you’ve thought about coming to work for us and decided to come?’ Pandora said brightly.

‘Well, I’m walking, with a stick, and in another couple of weeks I may be able to walk unaided, I hope. So, if the job is still open I thought . . .’

‘It is! Oh, I’m so pleased. I’m sure we’re going to get on. The minute I saw you I liked you, and it will be so nice to have someone English to chat to. Oh, I have Greek friends, girls I knew as a child, but I always feel half-English, because I came to school here. Look, we shall be leaving in a few days – would you be able to fly with us? Or must you stay in hospital for a while?’

‘I’m not sure. I’ll speak to the doctor when he makes his rounds later today, and ring you again tomorrow to let you know.’

‘Don’t forget you’ll need your passport.’

‘Of course, it is up to date, don’t worry.’

‘Charles will draw up a contract for you to sign before we leave. And we’ll need some references – just a couple, from your bank, your doctor, simply personal references. Is that OK?’

‘I’ll get that done when I get out of here,’ Miranda promised and, while she waited to speak to the doctor, made a list of what she would need to take with her. It would mean going to the flat, which made her nervous.

Neil Maddrell came to see her an hour later and she told him her problem.

‘I’ll pick you up and take you to the flat to pack a suitcase and find your passport,’ he offered. ‘Until you go to Greece I suggest you stay at a hotel. I’ll book that for you.’

‘You’re so kind,’ she said, deeply relieved. ‘Do you think it’s a good idea for me to go to Greece?’

‘I do, yes. Just don’t tell people that that is where you’re going. We don’t want anyone flying out to Greece to find you and do you a mischief.’

She shuddered. ‘No. No, we don’t. I’ll only tell my mother.’ Changing the subject hastily, she asked, ‘Why did you come? Is there any news?’

‘I just wanted to ask you a few more questions. Do you know how long Sean has been having flying lessons?’

Blankly she shook her head. ‘I only remember Terry mentioning it once, a month or so ago; he was paying for Sean to train as a pilot.’

‘You know Finnigan senior has a plane?’

‘Yes. I know he flies, too, and I believe he’s quite good, or that’s what I’ve heard. I don’t know anything about flying. I’ve never been up in a private plane. He pilots himself about all over the place.’

Neil nodded. ‘Yes, we’ve been to the airfield where he keeps his plane. Tell me, after you fainted in your office that day – you told us you started to drive home, then parked to think, and drove back to ring us and report what you had heard. How long would you say all that took? How long were you away from the office before you actually rang us?’

‘I’m not sure. I wasn’t looking at my watch. Not long. Half an hour, maybe? But then it took the police some time to arrive, it must have been three-quarters of an hour later. Maybe even an hour. I don’t know.’

‘Quite a long time, anyway?’

She nodded.

‘Long enough for Sean to have time to tidy up the bathroom, dry the bath, carry the body down to his car and put it in the boot . . . maybe wrapped in the damp towels he had used? Along with the girl’s clothes?’

‘It would not have taken him longer than half an hour,’ she agreed.

‘And by the time the first police arrived on the scene it must have been an hour since you thought you heard the girl drowning?’

‘I didn’t
think
I heard that. I did hear it!’ she said fiercely.

Neil nodded. ‘OK, I believe you. So it must have been around an hour later that the police actually got there?’

‘I’d say so.’

‘By which time the bathroom was pristine, no sign of anyone having had a bath in it.’

‘Yes.’ What was he getting at? She watched him doubtfully. ‘Are you hinting that I might have made a mistake? Might have imagined it? Because I know I didn’t.’

‘I’m sure you didn’t. But we have been searching for a body for days without success. So we’re looking for alternative ways of disposing of the corpse.’

She was baffled. What did he mean by that? Did he suspect Sean of having flown the body somewhere before burying it in a remote district far from London?

He got up. ‘Well, thank you for helping. Let me know when you’re being discharged and I’ll come to drive you to your flat.’

He was very thoughtful. She felt better for knowing he would be with her when she went home.

‘And as soon as I know which nights you’ll be in London before you go to Greece, I’ll book a hotel for you. That way, nobody will have a clue where you’re going to be.’

He was as good as his word. Two days later he collected her from the hospital in the morning, drove her to her flat and waited while she packed her case, then took her to a quiet hotel in a leafy street in Kensington.

‘There’s only one entrance and exit – nobody can escape being noticed by the staff on duty in the foyer,’ he reassured her.

They took the small lift upstairs to her room, overlooking the back of the hotel. They didn’t pass a soul in the corridor, nor hear a sound from any other room.

‘You’ll be safe here, but keep the security chain on the door and check visitors through the peephole before you let them in. There’s also a closed circuit TV system recording everyone who comes in and goes out of the hotel, day and night.’ He grinned at her. ‘Hurry up and unpack, then I’ll take you to lunch downstairs.’

They ate Italian, she chose minestrone soup, he ate Parma ham and sliced melon, then they both had grilled salmon with lime sauce, boiled potatoes and green beans, followed by icecream with hot chocolate sauce.

‘After hospital food that was brilliant,’ Miranda sighed. ‘Now I feel too full to move, though.’

Neil escorted her back up to her room and left her there. ‘Have a siesta, Italian-style,’ he advised, smiling.

As he turned to leave she caught his sleeve. ‘Before you go – any news about the body?’

He shook his head. ‘But if our theories are correct we should have news before too long.’

‘What theories?’ she asked and he grimaced.

‘I can’t tell you that. Sorry.’

He left and she locked herself in her hotel room, and went to the window to stare out. It was pouring with rain outside, the green branches of trees lining the street whipped by a savage wind, the view one of endless grey streets. London in this weather could be depressing.

She turned towards the bed, kicking off her shoes. Turning back the duvet she lay down, pulling the duvet over her. Minutes later she was asleep, and did not wake for several hours. Her body wasn’t accustomed to exercise following her long stay in hospital. She had had a very busy, tiring morning and then eaten rich, heavy food. She needed this long rest.

Two days later she drove to Heathrow with the Leighs and caught a plane to Athens. As they drove she noticed a black Ford with smoked glass windows following them; it stayed there, right behind them, all the way to the airport.

‘What’s wrong?’ asked Pandora, noticing that she kept turning her head to look back.

Miranda didn’t admit what was worrying her. A lot of this traffic would be going to Heathrow. She was becoming paranoid.

Nevertheless, as they got out of the taxi she looked around for the black car and spotted it parking not far behind them. Nobody got out, but she felt the hair rise on the back of her head as she saw a front window slide down a little, wide enough for something to show.

Sunlight glinted on what looked like the muzzle of a gun.

A scream curdled in her throat, her eyes clouded with terror, and then her sight cleared and she saw that it was not a gun being pointed at her. It was the long lens of a very professional-looking camera.

Charles and Pandora were unaware of her reactions, too busy supervising the unloading of their luggage on to an airport porter’s trolley. They had their backs to the other car, she realised they were unaware of being photographed.

‘Ready, Miranda?’ Charles said, turning his wife’s wheelchair towards the entrance. ‘Sure you don’t want a wheelchair?’

‘I can manage,’ she said, and would have told them about the camera then, but Charles walked away, pushing his wife in front of him, and she had to follow them at her slow hobble, leaning on her stick or she would have lost sight of them. By the time she had caught up with them at the check-in desk she had decided not to mention the photographer. His camera had been pointing towards them, but perhaps he had been taking a picture of someone else, someone she had not noticed.

By the time they had checked in and gone through into the departure lounge they still had over an hour to kill. They had some tea, bought magazines to read on the plane, then sat down to wait.

‘How far is the hotel from Athens?’ she asked them.

They looked at each other. Charles laughed. ‘Didn’t we explain? The hotel isn’t on the mainland, it is on an island called Delephores, in the Cyclades, several hours from Athens.’

She remembered then that Pandora had told her all that when she first offered her a job.

‘We get there by boat,’ Charles added.

‘A ferry?’

‘There is one, yes, but the hotel has its own boat, to make the trip easier for guests. It will be waiting for us at Piraeus, where all the cruise ships tie up. Our boat has a cabin with comfortable seats, and another tiny cabin with a couple of bunks, for people who get sea-sick and prefer to lie down. You don’t get sea-sick, do you, Miranda?’

‘I never have before, but then I haven’t sailed much.’

‘Well, let’s hope you are a good sailor.’

‘I don’t ever remember a problem.’

‘Good. The boat is well equipped. There’s a bathroom and a tiny galley – a kitchen, so we can have tea or coffee on the way.’

‘It sounds fun.’

Four hours later they were approaching Greece. Miranda was sitting by the window, leaving the aisle seats free for Charles and his wife, if Pandora needed to go to the lavatory en route. Leaning her face against the cold glass Miranda stared down at the brilliant, blue sea beneath them, at tiny, grey and green islands scattered across it and then at the indented coast of the Greek mainland, frilled like the neck of a lizard.

‘We should be landing soon,’ Charles told her as the plane dropped suddenly, leaving her stomach churning. From the air Athens appeared to be a sea of white buildings with flat roofs and the occasional tower or spire.

What nobody had warned her about, what she had not expected, was the violent heat.

As she came down the steps from the plane the sun beat on the back of her neck like a brazen gong.

‘It’s so hot!’ she said, only just able to breathe.

Charles looked surprised. ‘Didn’t you realise it would be? It is usually around ninety or a hundred degrees here in summer.’

‘Usually?’ she gasped and he laughed.

‘You’ll get used to it.’

She wished she could walk faster, to get out of the sun, but she could only scuttle along on her crutch like a crab. By the time she was inside the airport building her skin was so hot it felt as if it was blistering. How could anyone get used to this temperature?

They somehow made their way through the crowded terminal, collected their luggage from the carousel and managed to find a porter to push it outside for them.

A long, black limousine was waiting for them. The chauffeur took charge of their luggage while she and Pandora got into the back of the car. To her enormous relief it had air-conditioning and was blissfully cool.

Ten minutes later they were driving through the Athens suburbs on their way to the coast. Miranda stared out of the window, fascinated. The buildings, set in gardens full of trees and shrubs, were mostly white and often had a strangely unfinished look, with wire sticking up out of the top floor.

‘There’s a tax on finished buildings,’ explained Charles. ‘So builders leave them not quite finished, to avoid paying the tax. Also people often plan to add another floor, when they have more money, so it is cheaper to do that if there is no roof.’

She wished she had had a chance to see the city – to visit the Acropolis or the great museum Pandora had told her about as they were flying here, where the gold of Troy could be seen, the mask of Agamemnon, the necklaces of Helen, and marvellous bronze statues of the Greek gods.