THEY ALL LOOKED UP at me. There was a sort of silence, and a belligerence blew at me like bad breath from all six of them.
“Why don’t you just go away, Mr. Davies?” Diane said, in a kind of cold angry wail. It was about the first word I had ever heard her speak.
“I’d love to, sweetheart,” I said. “I don’t like you any better than you like me. But I can’t. Unfortunately, I have to speak to your old man here.”
“Listen, the police have been here all afternoon,” Steve said.
“I know,” I said.
“What do you want?”
“I can talk about it here,” I said. “But you might prefer to talk about it in private.”
“Anything you got to say to me, you can say in front of my friends.”
“Okay. I want to talk about what you said to me in the square the other day.”
“Wait a minute,” he stopped me. “I’ll come outside.” He looked around apologetically at the others, and got to his feet. The other three men hadn’t gotten to their feet, but they looked ready to. I followed Steve out.
Outside, Steve led the way down to the ground.
“Okay,” he said in a hate-filled voice. “Talk.”
“You hollered something after me this morning that stuck in my head,” I said. “You hollered, ‘You know I didn’t mean it, don’t you?’ I think those were the exact words.”
He wouldn’t look at me. “So?” he said sullenly.
“I want to know what you meant. It seemed a peculiar thing to say. Under the circumstances.”
“I don’t know what I meant. What difference does it make?”
I gave him a mock sigh of disgust. “Well, let’s analyze it. I assume you meant you didn’t mean what you said when you threatened Girgis. But how would I know you didn’t mean what you said? You threatened Girgis pretty good there. And me, too. And then a couple of days later he’s dead.”
“I didn’t threaten to kill him. Do I look like a killer?” He was still evasive, wouldn’t look at me. I had a hunch he was hiding something. But what?
“You don’t look not like a killer,” I said. “Neither does that crazy sidekick of yours. Killers look like anybody.”
“Chuck? Chuck wouldn’t hurt a fly.”
“I wouldn’t bet a dollar on it.”
“Anh. You’re another pig. You’re one of them. You were talking me some high-toned guff about a grand jury. Did you ever hear of a grand jury in this country? In Greece?” He barked a short laugh. “The police were up here all afternoon. Asking questions, checking passports, nosing around. They went through our personal stuff. No warrants, no nothing.”
I wondered how Chuck and his machete were still loose? Was Pekouris not picking him up? On purpose?
“Look,” Steve said, “I don’t have to talk to you. You don’t have any legal authority.”
“That’s right, you don’t have to talk to me.”
“If you have any authority, show me. Show me a badge. Or an official paper. Otherwise, why don’t you just bug off, you son of a bitch?”
Without a word, crisply, I stepped in and hit him. It wasn’t a full punch. It was a short right hand, thrown off the right foot, with the right foot in front. But it was enough to knock Steve off his feet, and down.
It was a calculated risk. I didn’t like the way the conversation was developing and I thought a punch on the jaw, if it didn’t make him holler for help to try and ruin me, might make him think. Might change the tone and the direction.
“I’m partial about who calls me a son of a bitch,” I said. “Say I’m old-fashioned. Get up, you.”
He did, rubbing his jaw. He looked surprised and rueful. Although he was built like a muscle boy, he made no move to fight. “You’re a brave guy, man,” he said sullenly, still not looking at me. “All I got to do is holler, and you would wind up looking like a played-over football field. All I have to do is holler. And not just upstairs. All over this place.”
“Why don’t you holler?”
“And have you bring a regiment of cops down on us?”
“Look, I don’t like you any better than you like me, bud. If you’re an example of the new age, I feel sorry for it. But you’re in trouble. I’m trying to give you a break. You better be damn well able to prove you’re not a killer. Where is this sidekick of yours? You said this morning he was around. I want to talk to him.” I didn’t know why I said it. It was a shot in the dark. But a lucky one.
“He’s gone,” Steve said sullenly. “I sent him away.”
That stopped me. I was dead quiet for a moment. “You mean you sent him off the island?” I asked, easily.
“No. Are you kidding? He wouldn’t make it to Athens. Let alone out of the country. No, I sent him off to St. Friday’s.”
“What the hell is St. Friday’s?”
“It’s a chapel, in a little cove, around on the other side of the island. It’s called Ayia Paraskevi, in Greek. Paraskevi was some woman saint, but Paraskevi means Friday. We call it St. Friday’s.”
“When did you send him?”
“This morning. As soon as I learned the police were coming.”
“Do the police know you did that?”
“Sure. Of course. I told them as soon as they asked where he was.”
“But you don’t know whether they went around there and got him?”
“Not so far as I know. I’ve still got his passport.”
“You keep his passport for him?” I asked.
“Well, sure. He wants me to.” He avoided my gaze.
That made me think. If Steve kept his passport for him, he was probably crazier then even I thought. “Tell me,” I said, “did it ever occur to you that he might come back here from over there, without telling you?”
Steve shot me a sharp look. “He wouldn’t do that.”
“You’re sure?”
“Absolutely.”
“Okay.” I stepped back away from him. “What did you tell the police as to why you sent him over to St. Friday’s?”
“I told them the truth. I sent him there for a three-day fast. Because he’s been nervous since the murder.”
“A three-day fast!”
“Yeah. What’s so funny? That’s what we do, now and then, from time to time. All of us. Now, if you’ve not got anything further to rap about, may I go?”
“No,” I said. “One more thing. Where was he the night of the murder?”
“He was with me.”
“Oh, great,” I said. “And of course you were with him. What a super alibi.”
“There were fifty kids as witnesses who saw us both at the Cloud 79 club until closing,” Steve said.
I just looked at him, and shook my head. “Girgis was killed at 3:30 A.M.”
“Well, we didn’t close at the club until after that, that night.”
“Have you got a lot to learn about Greek justice,” I said.
He didn’t answer me.
“I hear your pal swings a mean machete,” I said.
He grinned at me mirthlessly. “You heard that, did you? I figured somebody would get around to bringing that up eventually. Did you tell the police?” It was curious how they always capitalized the word police with their voices, when they said it.
“They already knew all about it,” I said. “It was them who told me.”
“They did? I bet they did. Now may I go, Mister Pig?”
I felt my lips tighten. I let a long breath out through my nostrils. But all I said was, “Yes.” Then, just for fun, I added, “You’ll find Chuck down the way, in the third building below here. With four little girls.”
He gave me a look, but didn’t say anything. He turned and walked away.
I watched him for a moment, then turned and started on back down the hill.
Down at the other apartment unit, when I stopped and sneaked up again to check, myopic Chuck with his Coca-Cola-bottle glasses was still sitting with his hookah and his turban. The little girls were now sitting in an adoring circle at his feet.
I backed away and walked on down the hill along the outside of the place.
I needed time to think about it. It looked to me like Steve thought his pal had killed Girgis, and was trying to cover up for him. And it was entirely possible Chuck had killed him. Chuck was obviously a crazy, and who knew what a crazy would do? I had seen him break that boy’s nose with a karate chop about the first night I was here. It was entirely possible the two of them were in it together.
But what if they were guilty? It bothered me why Pekouris had done nothing? Why hadn’t he picked them and that machete up? He hadn’t even picked up their passports. What was to stop them from taking off some dark night in a small boat for Turkey, with or without passports? That was a cute trick, sending Chuck off to this St. Friday’s. But that wouldn’t have stopped Pekouris if Pekouris had wanted to pick them up.
Down at the bottom on the road, I stopped and turned around and looked back up at the weird place. What a comment it was on the state of our fouled-up civilization. You wouldn’t see any places like this in Russia or China, by God. Goofy or not, I was glad we still had them here.
Off on my right as I stood looking up, the loud speakers from Steve’s Cloud 79 had begun to batter the air. I could see the colored lights through the trees, and the amplifiers would certainly tell me where it was even if I was blind. I was tempted to walk over and look it over.
But I knew I wouldn’t go. What was in store for me tonight was not some night club but dead-weight, unexciting, ulcer-making work. That was what was in store for me.
I thought of the money Kronitis had given me. Now I would have to begin to earn it.
I walked over to the Xenia and caught a horsecab back to the house. At the taverna I picked up some sandwiches for my dinner and to keep me going later. At Georgina’s another hippie party was in progress in the garden. I avoided it. The old gal had hurried home with a whole mob. In the house I called Chantal to tell her that I would not be up to see her tonight. She had already heard about my skindiving trip with Sweet Marie. I told her I had work to do and if she didn’t believe it she should stop by later and see me. Then I got out my locked briefcase and took out some pads of yellow legal cap. I placed them neatly on the desk and after looking around on the ceiling for an excuse I couldn’t find, finally sat down with them.
I had made up my mind about one thing. If Sweet Marie made me any more offers, of her carnal form, I was sure as hell going to take her up on them. And to hell with the moral tone.