Mrs Pargeter 03; Mrs Pargeter’s Package

∨ Mrs Pargeter’s Package ∧

Thirty-Seven

The headland referred to was one of the scrub-covered arms that encircled the bay of Agios Nikitas. It was a steep-sided spine of rock, the end of which thousands of years before had dropped away into the sea to form cliffs. There were a couple of paths across the ridge which led to tiny bays otherwise accessible only by boat, but they were little used. The thorny undergrowth was inimical to travellers in the tourist uniform of shorts and T-shirts, and the gradient unappealing in the daytime sun.

Heat raised no problems for Mrs Pargeter and Larry Lambeth, but the steep climb and the sharp thorns did. They were both scratched and breathless by the time they approached the dilapidated hut. The darkness was diluted by a thin sliver of moon and their eyes had quickly accommodated to the conditions.

“I’ll go first,” Larry murmured.

There had been a path to the door in the days when fishermen used the building regularly, but this now showed only as an indentation in the surrounding scrub, which muscled up close, threatening to engulf the hut. No light showed through the broken glass of the windows, and the only sound was the incessant restlessness of the sea.

Larry moved cautiously forward to the door, found the handle and pushed it inward with a sudden movement. He paused, but, the silence remaining unbroken, moved forward and was lost in the darkness of the interior.

There were two sounds. A soft thud. A harder thud.

Then silence reasserted itself.

Whatever dangers lay inside the hut, Mrs Pargeter had come too far to shirk them. It was no time for pussyfooting. Her dead friend’s daughter was in danger.

Coolly, Mrs Pargeter pushed through the encroaching brushwood and in through the open door. As she did so, she announced in a clear voice, “Good morning. I am Mrs Pargeter and I am coming in to see what’s happening.”

The darkness she entered was total. Her feet stepped firmly across the floor of dusty rock.

There was a loud clatter behind her as the door was slammed shut. She turned, to be met by the dazzling beam of a flashlight.

“You are a very nosey woman, Mrs Pargeter,” said a voice she recognised.

“With some justification, I think…” she said, “Sergeant Karaskakis.”