The Forty Column Castle (17 page)

I studied the landscape below. If I did the bed sheet thing like in the movies, my
homemade rope would drop to sharp, black volcanic rock and a narrow beach, one washed
by waves right up to the rocks. Where would that leave me? I wished I knew where I
was and looked around for landmarks. Nothing. This side of the house sat on rock looking
out to sea. Maybe the front of the house had more beach. I recalled the drive and
entrance gate and tried to place where they were. But I couldn’t remember well, seeing
how I wasn’t in a conscious condition when I entered the house.

I focused my attention on the balcony. The rails were polished stone. Three potted
palms stood to one end. My eye followed the palms upward to the roof which appeared
flat and maybe six feet above the balcony door opening. A flat roof a person could
walk across. The tops of the palms cleared the roof.

Great. Now how to get to the roof without killing myself. Who knew what other rooms
I could access if I could get to the roof. I looked over the side of the balcony again.
It was a long way down. If I was going to be doing any scaling to get to the roof,
I was going to have to be darn sure I made it. If not, I’d end up as hamburger on
those black rocks below.

I eyed the palms. I wondered how strong palms were, especially rooted in pots. I read
in National Geographic, my favorite magazine, that palms had shallow roots and not
an extensive root system. Did that mean that they toppled over easily? As a child
I had never been a tree climber. It didn’t appeal to me. Nor did heights. They still
didn’t.

I surveyed the three palms, trying to decide which one looked the sturdiest. I walked
closer looking for hand holds, touched the bark. Rough and jaggy. I wished I had been
more of a monkey as a kid. This endeavor might be more palatable to me if I had.

I decided the palm nearest the wall would be my best bet, but climbing a palm in a
dress wouldn’t do it. I recalled in the movies little boys sort of shimmied up the
trunk of the trees after coconuts.

Back inside I hurried and changed into the blouse and Capri pants. Thank the stars
I had pants so that the probability of my legs getting ripped to shreds would be lower.
I decided to abandon the purse and lamentably my black dress. I stuffed what money
I had, ID and credit cards in my pants pocket. I considered my cute sandals and decided
to leave them behind.

Of course, even after I got to the roof there might not be much of anything up there.
But I couldn’t think about that now. There was no other escape from the room. I had
noticed that when I was scurrying around after Rodolfo left to see if there was anyone
else in the room. I had checked for phones in my search. None. Zach had a way of thinking
of everything. Except the palm trees. I chortled to myself. He had underestimated
my resolve.

Back out on the balcony I studied my chosen palm, calculating my hand holds. I glanced
over to the other balcony. There were about as many palms as here, and they cleared
the roof, too. I spit on my hands and rubbed them together because that seemed to
be the thing to do and mounted the pot. It held my weight. I tried a hand hold on
the palm. It was jaggy. I gritted my teeth and put my foot on one of the frond cuts
at the base of the tree. Painful. I jumped down and rushed back inside and slipped
on my cute sandals. They were at least some protection for my feet. I rushed back
out and climbed up on the pot.

Stop thinking, I told myself and climb, even if it hurts. You got to get out of here.
So up I went. Painful frond by painful frond. Maybe I should have put on a lifeline
rope in case I fell.

Stop thinking and climb.

Sweat was running between my breasts and down from my armpits. I should have pulled
my hair back because it kept falling in my face.

Stop thinking and climb.

How did those monkeys do it anyway? I must say the cute sandals didn’t work out as
bad as I thought. They had rubber soles and at least gained me purchase on the palm
cuts.

Up I climbed. Where was Zach anyway? Why did he leave? Did he think I’d be around
when he came back?

Stop thinking and climb.

My muscles started shaking. I wasn’t exactly in the greatest shape in the muscle department.
I wasn’t one of those work-out-in-a-gym types.

Stop thinking and climb.

Finally, I was level with the roof and peered over. Flat as far as the eye could see
and populated with water tanks. My palm tree was about a foot from the edge of the
roof. It was going to be tricky getting from the palm to the roof. I tried not to
look down, but out of my peripheral vision I caught glimpses of pounding waves and
sharp rocks. It was breezy, and I was far enough up the tree that palm fronds waved
around me and whacked me in the face a time or two. My muscles were starting to give
out.

I took a deep breath and shimmied up high enough to get my butt even with the roof
ledge. The palm creaked back and forth in the breeze and as it leaned toward the building,
I heaved myself onto the roof, rolled away from the ledge and lay there gasping for
breath.

I stayed on my back until my breathing quieted, and my muscles stopped shaking. The
blue sky stretched horizon to horizon. My eyes drifted shut, and I pretended I was
on Lara beach without a care in the world. But it didn’t work. My mind was in extreme
frantic mode, plunging about trying to find a way out of my predicament.

I struggled to my feet and stood for a moment trying to get my bearings. The view
went on forever, most of it sea. The house was on the edge of a rock cliff and looking
back toward land there were few homes, all of them large and walled. We were at the
end of a cul-de-sac. That would make it hard finding a taxi or using other houses
as cover.

I’d have to steal one of Mr. Bellomo’s cars. If I could get to a phone, I could call
Yannis to come get me, but I hesitated to do that because I didn’t want to pull him
into this mess. Yannis would be at work. Knowing him, he would drop everything to
help me out.

I walked the perimeter of the house, which was a feat in itself, keeping careful watch
that no one would be peering back at me. On two sides rock met sea. On the third and
fourth were gardens with several acres of swimming pool, sloping down to beach area
complete with dock. A yacht was moored at the end of the dock which extended out a
considerable distance into the water. A large gazebo sat on an extensive deck area
about half-way out. The fifth side of the house was the main entrance and driveway,
gated, of course. The house was a pentagon, two story, flat roof. Why one man needed
so much square footage was beyond me.

There were two balconies each on the sea side of the house. An extended balcony swept
the garden and beach sides of the house and columns stretched the height of two floors
on the entrance side.

I scurried around half bent in my reconnoitering, then lay down on the entrance side
of the house and peeked over the edge. A white van stood in the semi-circular drive
on the entrance side. Maybe a delivery vehicle. No other cars in sight although there
was a separate garage removed from the house with eight doors. Did that mean eight
vehicles? For one man? I could borrow one of those.

A stakeout was in order. I watched the front entrance. When I had almost decided the
effort was an exercise in futility, a silver SUV pulled up at the entrance gate and
passed through, stopping below me. The windows were tinted, but I could make out two
figures inside. I flattened down as best I could but with enough eye showing to catch
what was going on.

Out of the driver side stepped Luigi’s twin. I didn’t think there were two men that
big on the island. He opened the passenger side and helped Zach out. He was ruffed
up. Hair mussed, shirt tail out in the back. This was not Mr. Neat and Cool. As the
pair passed below me, the driver helping Zach, I caught sight of the red welt under
Zach’s eye and what looked like blood oozing from his lip. One sleeve of his shirt
was ripped nearly off. Great Zeus and all the Greek gods. What had happened?

I shrank back from the edge of the roof and hid until I thought they were inside then
peeked over. A boy drove the SUV to the garage and parked. I wondered if he left the
keys inside. One thing I did know. I had to determine if my aunt was in the palace,
since she wasn’t with Zach. I hoped he hadn’t taken her anywhere. Then I’d find out
what happened to Zach.

Crouching as low as I could, I ran along the edge of the roof. The best approach,
I figured, was to check out all the balconies to see if any of them looked different
than mine. What I expected to find, I couldn’t say. Maybe my aunt would hang her undies
out to dry on the balcony or something. I didn’t think she’d be in the front on the
garden and beach side of the house, but I ran along those two sides of the pentagon
first, just to make sure. More potted palms and smaller shrubs adorned these balconies.
I scanned them and found nothing that caught my eye to tell me human beings inhabited
the rooms.

That left the two sides facing the sea. I checked the one opposite our rooms. On closer
inspection the long balcony on that side displayed a virtual forest of palms, an awning,
lounge furniture and table. No one was outside but it didn’t take much imagination
to figure that was Mr. Bellomo’s room or the master bedroom suite. The palms cleared
my roof top viewing platform. That would be my second choice in the event that they
would be sharing a room. Perish the thought. I didn’t see any ladies undies hanging
anywhere on that balcony.

I decided the balcony closest to mine was the most likely place for my aunt, if she
were here. I crouched and looked over the edge of the roof onto a balcony that looked
identical to mine. Small, with potted palms, no awning, no table, one lounge chair.
On the lounge chair a paperback book lay open, like someone had been reading and gone
inside for iced tea. I strained to read the title. I could make out a man and woman
in the clutches on the cover. A positive sign there was a woman in this suite.

I nearly fell over myself trying to get down the palm tree. It scraped the roof’s
edge. I hugged the palm, holding on to the edge of the roof, and inched down the trunk.
I was getting the knack of palm tree climbing. My feet touched down on the pot, sandals
still in tack. I jumped the rest of the way to the deck of the balcony and ducked
behind the potted palms on the outside chance that this might be a female relative’s
room.

After a glance at the paperback I knew. It was a title from the collection of Zazora
Deville, my aunt’s favorite romance author, and it looked like a new copy. At least
she wasn’t tied up. Maybe she was even enjoying herself. Wouldn’t that be funny if,
after all this worrying, she were having a good time?

I dared a peek into the interior of the room but the glare from the window glass made
everything inside look black. I inched to the open door and peered in. There standing
not five feet from me was Aunt Elizabeth, hand over her mouth and eyes wide.

“Lordie, Claudie, you nearly gave me a heart attack. Why on Earth are you on my balcony
and how on Earth did you get here? Why didn’t you come in by the door?”

I rushed over to give her a hug and a squeeze then stepped back for a once over to
make sure arms and legs and other body parts were intact and unscathed. She wore a
black and gold caftan decorated with Greek gods and goddesses, some in rather suggestive
positions. Her bright white hair was neatly coiffed in a French twist and gold bangles
danced from one wrist. The other held an iced drink half the contents of which were
now on the soft, white carpeting. The real eye opener was the huge rock on the third
finger of her left hand. She saw me staring at it, blushed and stammered and sighed
but no words of explanation made it from her lips.

“You aren’t … you didn’t … he didn’t …” I wasn’t doing much better.

“Oh, Claudie, Salvatore Bellomo is the nicest, kindest man I have ever met. He gave
me this lovely diamond.” She held up the huge thing. It sparkled in its gold setting.
A lot of gold was in that setting.

“You mean …”

“Yes, he proposed, but we haven’t set a date yet.”

I stood shocked into silence. She was lost in admiring the rock. It was gorgeous.
I was not expert on diamonds but it looked real. It had a carved gold setting, giving
it an antique look. It gleamed and shone brighter than any diamond I ever saw.

“I need to sit down. Do you have anymore of that?”

She glanced at the glass in her hand. “Of course, here take what’s left of this one.
I’ll get another.”

Her room was a carbon copy of mine but in a different color scheme. Hers sported mauves
and turquoise and lots of gold trim everywhere. Definitely a Cypriot decorator. But
the huge couch and wet bar and room layout looked the same.

I followed her to the bar. “Aunt Elizabeth, how did you get out of jail?”

“Oh, that.” She waved her bangles. “Salvatore came to see me early Monday morning.
It was odd because it was so early, and I was expecting you. But he came with an official
looking gentleman, I didn’t catch his name, who opened the cell door. Mr. Bellomo
offered me his arm and off we walked. We were over here by nine in the morning about
the time I was expecting you.”

She calmly poured another iced tea.

“Didn’t you think to call me to let me know you were okay?”

She looked at me like I had two heads. “Marie-Claude, I didn’t have your cell phone
number because the police took my phone. They took my purse. I assumed that man at
the jail would let you know that Mr. Bellomo had come to get me. Why didn’t you come
before now?” She made a pouty face like she was hurt. “I thought sure you would. And
why did you come through the balcony? Wasn’t that rather dangerous, dear?” She peered
at me. “You are acting rather strange.”

I was acting strange? “I didn’t know about Mr. Bellomo until Lonnie, the tour guide,
told us about your widow friends. One of them told him about Mr. Bellomo. How was
I to know?”