The Forty Column Castle (3 page)

The small boy reappeared through the window with three espresso sized cups of coffee
on a small rectangular tray painted black with gold trim.

“Here we are. Please help yourself.” He took the tray from the boy and held it toward
us. We each took a cup, and Mikolas set the tray on the desk.

He templed his fingers like people do when they have something important to say. “Your
aunt is a cordial person, quite polite and cooperative. We have tried to make her
as comfortable as possible under the circumstances. Unfortunately, we found some priceless
antiquities in her carryon bag.”

He grimaced like the coffee he sipped didn’t sit well in his digestive tract. “This
is a very serious offense, Miss Lowell. I hope you can appreciate the gravity of what
has taken place.”

“I understand about gravity, but this is absurd. My aunt is not the criminal type.
Someone planted those statutes in her bag to get them out of the country. Maybe they
used her as a conveyance and were going to retrieve them once she was on the plane.
That means that everyone on her flight is suspect, the real culprit is home by now,
and my aunt is in jail.”

Mikolas sat, nodding. “We have considered this, Miss Lowell. Believe me when I tell
you that this is a complex case. We have been working on it for some time. The people
involved are clever. We have good reason to believe that on Cyprus the ringleaders,
I think that is how you say it, include three widows with whom you aunt was cordial.
Unfortunately, your aunt was the one who got caught.”

I moved to the edge of my chair, but Yannis spoke up before I could fire my next barrage.

“Claudie’s concern is getting her aunt out of jail. What does she need to do?”

Mikolas cleared his throat and looked at me, his heavy brows adding to his serious
demeanor. “You will need to post bond to secure her release. But she cannot leave
the country.”

“Not leave the country?” I was out of the chair and pacing the room, my strappy black
sandals making hollow clicking sounds on the terrazo floor. “You mean this could take
weeks to resolve? We can’t live here indefinitely. I’ve got a mutual fund to manage.”
I couldn’t help throwing my arms about as I paced.

Mikolas started owl-like blinking which evolved into a fit of throat clearing. Finally,
he said, “Please do not be upset. I am sure we can resolve this matter. I know this
is difficult for you. Please sit down. I will summon the Chief of Investigations,
who came today to help you. I will get him.”

He hurried from the room, and I collapsed into my chair.

Yannis slid his arm around my shoulders. “We will secure your aunt’s release. Don’t
worry.”

I was scowling. My mood didn’t want a comforting arm.

“Yannis?”

“Yes, Princess?”

“Who are the three widows?”

“He didn’t say.”

“We need to find out.”

“All right, we will.”

Double footsteps echoed in the hallway, and we both looked up in expectation.

“Here you are,” Mikolas said. “This is Chief Inspector Polydeuces.”

The Inspector bowed to the room in general. We all murmured introductions at once,
and Yannis spoke up. “Inspector, can you help us? We would like to see Miss Davies
and secure her release today.”

The Inspector looked like a younger version of Mikolas and was, indubitably, a cousin.

“It is possible to see her, but I am not sure about leaving today. It is Sunday, you
see, and the people who process the paper work do not work today. Tomorrow perhaps,
but that may depend upon legalities. However, I can allow you to visit her.”

“Thank you, Inspector,” Yannis said.

Clueing me with a smile, he said in a low voice, “One step at a time.”

I wasn’t pleased but acquiesced, grateful for some action.

“Follow me then,” the Inspector said.

* * * * *

“Marie-Claude! Marie-Claude! Over here, dear. Oh, I am so glad to see you.” Aunt Elizabeth
bounced on her toes and stretched her arms through the bars to try to reach me. I
shoved past my escorts and rushed toward her voice. Awkwardly, we embraced through
the bars of the door. I pushed back, still clasping her shoulders.

“Am I glad to see you,” I said, trying not to tear up. She looked so forlorn. Her
fly-away white hair was pulled back into a wilting French twist. She wore her favorite
olive traveling trousers, the ones with all the pockets, and white cotton pullover.
Judging by her bare cell, the clothes on her back were all she was allowed. Her face
was crinkled into unhappy lines, not at all in keeping with her usual perky smile
and lively blue eyes.

“However did this happen?” I needed to hear the story from her.

“Marie-Claude, this is such a mystery. I don’t know how those relics got into my bag,”
she said, lowering her voice. “My souvenirs were neatly packed into my canvas bag.
You know, the pretty green tapestry carry-on I use on trips. My needlework was on
top along with my paperback romance, and I had my purse, my red leather one with all
the compartments that I just adore for traveling. You know the one.”

I certainly did. It was never far from her side.

She hurried on, as was her custom when she was nervous, her words tumbling over each
other. “I got pulled out of line as we waited to board, you know in one of those random
searches they do now, and they brought my check-in luggage and went through everything.

“Wouldn’t you know right there under my needlework in a cotton sack carefully wrapped
in what looked like gauze were these adorable little statues and four very small pots.
They looked like they had been broken and glued back together.

“The man asked me where I had gotten them and did I have a permit. Of course, I didn’t.
I mean they weren’t mine. I had never seen them before. So he asked me would I go
with him to talk to the head of customs security. They wouldn’t let me go, and I missed
my flight.”

Tears spilled down her cheeks, accompanied by intermittent sniffles. She dabbed at
the tears with a crumpled tissue she retrieved from her pocket.

“Excuse me, ladies.” Inspector Polydeuces interrupted our whisperings. “We need to
observe regulations and have you visit in the waiting area.” He ordered one of the
guards to open the door to her cell.

“Really, Claudie, this has been so humiliating,” my aunt grumbled under her breath,
as we walked down the corridor. “There’s no privacy, I haven’t had a decent bath,
and the smell in here is just horrid.”

I nodded in agreement. “I can imagine how awful it must be for you. We’ll get you
out of here as quickly as possible.” I patted her arm, trying to comfort her.

We seated ourselves across a table in a large open area, and our Cypriot entourage
collected at the other end of the room for a cigarette. Yannis joined them.

“How are you holding up? Do you have enough to eat? Are they treating you okay?” I
asked, grasping her hands and searching her face for signs of maltreatment, as we
sat across the table from each other.

“Oh, of course, I’m all right, dear. Cyprus isn’t a third world country. I haven’t
been tortured or anything. I imagine a jail is a jail though,” she said, philosophically.
“One should just never have the occasion to be in one.”

I had to smile. “But what a shock to be innocently waiting for your flight and the
next instance to be accused of being a thief.”

She nodded. “It has the element of the surreal, like the Twilight Zone. Any minute
I think I will wake up from the nightmare.”

“Nightmare, yes. But someone had to plant the antiquities in your bag.”

“But, of course, dear. It’s the only explanation.”

“The next obvious question is did you see anyone near your carry-on?”

“I have thought and thought about that. You know how I sometimes leave the bag with
another passenger while I visit the restroom? Well, I didn’t this time, use the rest
room, I mean. But Mrs. Crawford brought me to the airport.”

“Who’s she? You’ve never talked about her before,” I asked, leaning closer.

Her eyes brightened, and she tried to tuck some wisps of white hair back into the
bedraggled French twist. I could tell she was warming to the subject of a new friend.

“She’s one of my new traveling companions, dear. We were on the Escort Tour together
the second day I arrived. Mrs. Kelly and Mrs. Ryan were along, too. You know how I
love to take the Land Rover tour into the Troodos Mountains. Well, these three ladies
were on the tour along with a few English magazine writers. We had a marvelous time
and stopped in a little village for a long lunch with entremezzas. I even treated
myself to a little wine,” she said and blushed.

She only had wine at lunch when she really let go.

“Where are they from?”

“Who, dear?”

“Your traveling friends.”

“Oh, from England. They have the most elegant accents. Like the Queen herself. They
are on holiday here and come every year and rent a house in old town Pafos. They had
rented a car, and we went everywhere together. They were ever so friendly. Always
wanted me with them. Being an American, I think I was a novelty for them.” She looked
down at her hands folded in front of her on the table but seemed to struggle with
her next bit of information.

“We did go to the Turkish sector,” she finally said. “But only for the day, Claudie,”
she added when I frowned, as she knew I would. “We drove to Nicosia and walked across
the border. That was all. We just looked around a bit.”

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?”

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.