Mrs Pargeter 03; Mrs Pargeter’s Package

∨ Mrs Pargeter’s Package ∧

Thirty-Four

She forced her mind back to Christo’s escape from the boat. Somehow he must have found his way to England, probably arriving at Dover, then changed his name and set out to make a career in his new country.

He had taken the decision to obscure his real origins and make himself as British as he could be. But, until he perfected the language, he needed some explanation of his accent. How he had come to select Uruguay as a fictitious background there was no way of knowing, but it had been an inspired choice. The British as a nation tend to lump all foreigners together, anyway, but the number who could conduct an intelligent conversation about any aspect of Uruguay is so tiny as to be unworthy of consideration. The number who know anything about the country’s politics is even tinier, and so Chris Dover’s references to political disagreements and even implications of torture would never have been questioned.

Now this major breach had been made in the wall of logic, other details came tumbling through at a rush. Mrs Pargeter knew why she hadn’t at first recognised Conchita sitting at Spiro’s. The girl looked so natural there because it was the natural place for her to be. Though neither side knew it, she had been sitting amongst her family.

Another realisation came through. The reason why Chris Dover had deliberately avoided meeting Hamish Ramon Henriques was simply because he didn’t dare come face to face with a native Spanish-speaker. Such an encounter would almost inevitably lead to exposure of the lies he had invented about his Uruguayan upbringing.

But the question Mrs Pargeter could not yet answer was why Christo Karaskakis had created this huge subterfuge, what had driven him so thoroughly to disguise the truth about himself – even to the extent of landing his daughter with the unlikely name of Conchita, for God’s sake!

There were two possible explanations for such extreme behaviour – it could be a reaction either of guilt or of fear.

If Christo Karaskakis had committed some dreadful crime in Agios Nikitas, then guilt might have forced him to flee from the dangers of discovery and retribution. Sabotaging the outboard motor – if it were definitely known that that was what he was doing when it blew up in his face – might well qualify as such a crime.

Alternatively, though, perhaps he was the intended victim of the sabotage.

This theory appealed to Mrs Pargeter a lot more than the other one.

Under those circumstances, Christo Karaskakis might have been so frightened by the incident in the burning boat that he fled from Corfu and made himself unrecognisable to escape further attempts on his life. Perhaps he had spent his whole life in fear that the person who had so nearly killed him in 1959 would not rest until the job had been completed.

So who could have sabotaged the boat nearly thirty years before?

The people known to be involved were Georgio and Stephano.

Presumably Spiro had been around at the time, too.

But Spiro did seem a pretty unlikely suspect, because he had nothing to gain from his brother’s death. Indeed, he had quite a lot to lose. His dreams of the academic life were still just about alive while there was a chance of Christo reforming to such a point that old Spiro thought him worthy of taking on the family business. But, with his brother dead, young Spiro was condemned to burying his hopes for ever.

The other two made much more appealing suspects. Georgio had actually gone to London looking for Chris Dover, and Stephano – Sergeant Karaskakis – had been shameless in diverting suspicion about Joyce’s death. Because, following her new logic, Mrs Pargeter now felt certain that the same person who had attempted to murder Christo had succeeded in murdering Joyce, presumably to stop her from exposing the first crime.

But which of her two suspects was the murderer?

Mrs Pargeter looked across the taverna’s dancing area to the little table under the window where Georgio sat drinking ouzo with some cronies. The man seemed such an incompetent that it was hard to visualise him planning murder. But when it came to crime, as the late Mr Pargeter had frequently remarked, appearances can be terribly deceptive.

Sergeant Karaskakis certainly made a more obvious suspect. He was confident, calculating and in his eye at times there burned a light of pure evil.

Mrs Pargeter looked over towards the taverna doorway and saw the object of her speculation talking to Spiro. They were in exactly the same positions that they had been in when Joyce saw them the evening she died, Spiro with his back to her and the Sergeant visible over his shoulder.

Another possibility slotted into place. Maybe it hadn’t been the Sergeant who had prompted Joyce’s panic. Perhaps it had been the sight of Spiro’s backview, identical to that of her late husband. If that had been the case, Joyce’s looking as if she had seen a ghost had been almost literally appropriate.

Immediately Mrs Pargeter recalled the second time her friend had panicked. Inside the taverna. When she saw Theodosia over the bar counter.

Fiercely excited, Mrs Pargeter rose to her feet and, unaware of Larry Lambeth’s curious look, rushed towards the taverna entrance.

Sergeant Karaskakis saw her approach and deliberately stood in her way. “Mrs Pargeter,” he said.

“Yes.”

“The Tourist Police keep records of where all visitors to our island are staying.”

“Oh?” She looked up at him, all innocence.

“There is no record of your having stayed in a hotel in Corfu Town or in Paleokastritsa last night.”

Mrs Pargeter smiled. “Isn’t that dreadful? People are so inefficient these days, aren’t they? You’d think it was a simple enough thing to keep proper records, but for some people even that’s too much trouble.”

Sergeant Karaskakis wasn’t fooled by her bluff and she knew it. He held her in a long stare, which was undisguisedly threatening. Mrs Pargeter continued to smile her defiance up at him, but she felt a little trickle of fear in the small of her back.

After a moment, he drew curtly to one side, and let her pass through into the building.

She stood exactly where Joyce had stood, and looked exactly where Joyce had looked.

Theodosia was not behind the bar this time.

There was nobody behind the bar.

But directly in Mrs Pargeter’s eyeline was the enshrined photograph.

The photograph of old Spiro. Of the person Larry Lambeth would have described as Christo Karaskakis’ ‘old man’.

“If you want to find out, the explanation for everything will be found behind the old man’s p – ”

“Photograph?”