Evening brought the people out into the cool of falling darkness, on to balconies and into courtyards whose doors stood open so as not to obstruct views of comings and goings, or impede conversation between the houses – the banalities women called to each other as if they were in the same room, rather than across the street.
As the fat man passed, they fell into silence, and covertly watched him, ready to remark and speculate when he was gone from sight; but the fat man, unconcerned by their curiosity, looked up at the balconies and in at the doors as he passed, and wished each family – grandmothers and mothers, aunts, cousins, children – kali spera.
‘Where are you going, kalé? Have you lost your way?’
The woman who called out to him received a nudge of remonstration from the woman seated by her, who, judging by the similarity in features – the peasant nose, the widow’s peak, the long limbs and lean build – might have been her sister.
The fat man stopped.
‘I don’t believe I’m lost,’ he said, politely, ‘but you ladies might save me the trouble of becoming so. I’m looking for the professor’s house – I believe you know him as such? I mean the museum’s curator.’
Intrigued by his way of speaking, the woman studied him.
‘Where’re you from, kalé?’ she asked. ‘You’re not from anywhere round here.’
‘I come from Athens,’ he said.
‘Athens.’ She nodded, in apparent wonder. ‘I suppose it’s very hot, in Athens?’
‘I suppose it is,’ he said. ‘It’s been some time since I was there.’
‘You’re on the right path for the professor’s house.’ She eased herself from her chair, and stood beside him, very close, so he could smell fish on her breath. She put one hand on his forearm, and pointed in the direction he was already heading. ‘Keep straight now, until you come to a house with dark-green shutters, a big house on a corner. Go right there, and then right again, then straight up. You can’t miss it, kalé. You can’t miss it.’ She gripped his forearm tight, then seemed to feel she had taken too great a liberty, and released him and stood back a respectful distance.
The fat man eyed her, coolly.
‘Thank you,’ he said, with a slight bow of his head. ‘Your instructions confirm the route I proposed to take. It’s all too easy to get lost in these narrow lanes.’
‘Especially in the dark,’ said the seated sister, anxiously. ‘Who knows who you’ll run into, in the dark?’
‘My sister’s seen a stranger.’ The woman moved back closer to him, fighting the urge to grasp his arm again. ‘A strange man, going through these lanes. We don’t see many strangers, up here. And one with no business with any of us, has no business being here. You should take care, kalé. My sister and I are taking extra care.’
‘Indeed,’ said the fat man, with a small smile. ‘You are wise to be so cautious. Ladies, I wish you kali spera,’ and he moved on.
The professor’s house, when he found it, seemed so much quieter than those around it, that the fat man was not certain he had either the right house, or the right evening. In contrast to its neighbours, the courtyard door was firmly shut, and no noise, no music or chatter, came from behind it. But a light was shining at an upstairs window, and he thought he could perceive, too, the glow of a lamp in the courtyard; and so he stepped up to the door and knocked.
A solemn boy – a teenager of fifteen or sixteen – opened the door, and looked in silence at the fat man.
‘Kali spera,’ said the fat man. His own smile drew no response from the sullen face. ‘Is this the professor’s house?’
‘Who wants him?’ asked the boy.
But before the fat man could answer, his father appeared behind him, and putting his hands firmly on the boy’s shoulders, steered him away from the door. The boy was then inclined to leave their company, and tried to break free of his father’s grip; but the professor held him where he stood.
‘Kalos tou, kalos irthes,’ he said, smiling broadly and standing back to admit the fat man. ‘Come in, come in. Tao, please welcome our guest in an appropriate manner. This is Kyrie Diaktoros. He comes to us all the way from Athens.’
The glowering boy said nothing.
The fat man extended his hand.
‘Yassou, Tao,’ he said. ‘Chairo poli.’
For a moment, the boy looked as if he might refuse to respond; but in the end he offered his own hand, though giving the fat man the merest touch of his fingertips.
‘Chairo poli,’ he said.
‘Bravo,’ said his father, releasing the boy and ruffling his hair. The boy scowled, and immediately reached up to smooth his short crop, making plain his objection to his father’s affectionate gesture. ‘Go and tell Mama our guest is here.’
The boy left them, and went into the house. The professor showed the fat man to a table at the corner of the courtyard. All around were objects of interest and some age – more amphorae, with the white scars of barnacles telling of time spent under the sea; several old-fashioned candle lamps; various sizes of goat-bells strung on dried-out leather. Candles burned in an antique brass candelabra, giving off the lemon scent of citronella as a deterrent to mosquitoes; but as the fat man took his seat, buzzing insects zinged. The professor slapped his forearm, looked down at it, and flicked away an insect’s gangly corpse.
‘Damned things,’ he said. ‘I do my best to keep them at bay – my son’s allergic, he gets it from my wife – but this time of year, the job’s impossible.’
‘If your family’s allergic, I may be able to help,’ said the fat man. ‘I myself use an oil I get from an acquaintance in the west. What he puts in it, I have no idea, but mosquitoes seem to hate it. I can’t say it is the smell they dislike, as it is – to my nose at least – quite odourless. I would be happy to let you have some of my supply. I have a couple of bottles, I think, aboard the yacht.’
‘That would be very kind,’ said the professor. ‘What can I get you to drink? There’s wine, or beer. My wife makes an excellent lemonade, if you’d prefer a soft drink.’
‘A glass of wine would be excellent. Red or white, I don’t mind. I leave the choice to you.’
‘Amessos.’ The professor gave a small bow in the style of a waiter, and left the fat man alone.
In the kitchen, the professor took glasses from a cupboard. His wife was slicing bread, her face sour with bad temper.
‘Why are you using those glasses?’ she asked. ‘Don’t use those. Use the good glasses, our wedding glasses.’
‘There’s no need to get them out, surely,’ said the professor, reasonably. ‘These’ll do perfectly well.’
‘You’re determined to embarrass me, aren’t you?’ There seemed the possibility of tears. ‘Only a slut would put those glasses in front of a guest.’
He opened a drawer, and rattled cutlery.
‘Where’s the corkscrew?’
The woman sighed, and slammed down her knife.
‘For heaven’s sake,’ she said. ‘Can’t you find anything?’
‘It’s usually in here,’ he said. ‘But it’s not here now.’
She rummaged in the drawer and found the corkscrew, and held it up close to his face.
He took it from her, and began to peel the foil from a bottle of wine.
‘Why are you opening that wine?’
‘Why shouldn’t I?’ he asked. ‘It’s a very drinkable wine.’
She pointed to a bottle on the table.
‘I got that bottle from Petros’s. It’s supposed to be very good.’
‘Who said so?’
‘Petros.’
‘And what does Petros know about wine?’
‘Why would he recommend something that was no good?’
‘To get money out of your purse.’
‘I see.’ She snatched up the knife, and began to saw again at the loaf. ‘So I paid a lot for it, and now you’re not going to drink it. You invited him, and all the work falls on me.’
She turned her back on him. The silence between them grew. Her face was red, though not from the heat of cooking; the food was already prepared, and covered with cloths.
‘OK,’ he said. ‘You win. Your glasses, your wine. Though I find it ridiculous that you’re choosing the wine, when you don’t even drink it.’
From a high cupboard he lifted down two crystal glasses, heavy and unwieldy. He put them on a tray, beside the bottle of wine she had chosen.
She watched him, arms folded.
‘Don’t forget to wipe those glasses, before you take them out there,’ she said.
The fat man seemed good-humoured, as if he had heard nothing from the kitchen. The beginnings of a headache pulsed at the professor’s temples. He unloaded glasses, wine and corkscrew on to the table, and propped the tray against its leg.
The fat man picked up one of the glasses, and held it up to the candlelight.
‘What beautiful glasses,’ he said, perhaps slightly louder than necessary. ‘Excellent quality.’
As the professor twisted the corkscrew into the bottle, his wife carried out a basket of the bread she had sliced, and a dish of black olives, shiny with oil.
‘My wife,’ said the professor. The wine cork was dry; as he withdrew it from the bottle neck, it broke into pieces. ‘Lukia.’
She was a fading woman, with winter-pale skin untouched by sunlight; scraped back into a knot, her tight-fastened hair made her features sharp. Without make-up, she had made no apparent effort for their company; her dress – a shapeless shift – was more suited to a woman twice her age.
The fat man got to his feet, and offered his hand; but when she had put down what she was carrying, she fussed a while over the table’s arrangement, so his outstretched hand became awkward, and he let it drop.
‘A delight,’ he said, anyway, ‘a pleasure to meet you. Hermes Diaktoros, of Athens. And let me thank you for welcoming me into your home. I travel a great deal, and it is a rare luxury for me to dine with a family. I’ve already met your charming son. I see now where he gets his manners.’
She spoke without looking him in the eye.
‘It was my husband who invited you,’ she said, shortly. ‘You must thank him, not me.’
‘It would be a poor guest who did not thank his hostess. I’m sure it was you, and not your husband, who has prepared the food we are about to enjoy.’
She glanced at him as if his reasonable words were worthless, and left them alone.
Professor Philipas poured the wine.
‘You’ll have to forgive my wife,’ he said. ‘She’s not a sociable woman.’
‘There are some men that would please. They live always doubting their woman’s fidelity, and the slightest contact with any male sends them wild with jealousy. I suspect that is a problem you do not have.’
They tried the wine. A year or two before, it might have been excellent; now on the point of turning, it was tart and unpleasantly dry. The fat man politely drank more, whilst the professor offered no comment, but looked with some annoyance after his wife, then lowered his eyes and fell into silence before drinking down half the contents of his glass. Lukia brought out more food: aubergines baked with feta, in a tomato sauce flavoured with bay and a little honey; chicken braised with lemon and oregano; a rice pilaf with squid. She wished the men kali orexi, and turned to go.
‘Aren’t you joining us?’ asked the fat man.
She gave a weary smile.
‘The heat exhausts me,’ she said, ‘so I can’t eat. You must excuse me. The time I’ve spent in that hot kitchen has given me a migraine. I shall try and sleep it off.’
Again, she left them.
‘What about your son?’ asked the fat man. ‘All this food! Surely he will come and eat something?’
‘He’s learned his mother’s habits,’ said the professor, with some bitterness. ‘He’s not a boy who enjoys company. Please, help yourself.’
The fat man filled his plate, and tried the chicken.
‘She is a good cook, at least,’ he said. ‘Tell me about the museum, how it came into being.’
‘It was my father’s project, originally,’ said Professor Philipas, ‘though only in a very small way. He collected curios, items of interest. The people here see little value in antiques, or any relics of the recent past. Some don’t value our ancient heritage much more. My father started with what people were throwing out, items he saw beauty in that they didn’t. He drove my mother mad; she suffered the shame of his hoarded rubbish, as she saw it. The neighbours thought he was deranged. But bit by bit, as his collection grew, people began to offer him things they might otherwise have thrown out. I used to go with him, all over this island, sometimes to others, if he got wind of something special. Sometimes he broke the rules, and removed pieces he perhaps shouldn’t have done. But he took care of his collection, and treasured every piece. As I do now. After he died, I took on the collection myself. It caused some difficulties with my own wife, as you can imagine.’
‘I can,’ said the fat man.
‘Happily, those problems were resolved when the collection found its benefactor, as I told you.’
‘I remember,’ said the fat man. ‘I met the man today. I do wonder, though, at his motivation. A wish to improve the lot of one’s fellow men is sadly not too common. What are his reasons for giving his wealth away? Most men who have made money tend to keep it in the family.’
‘He has no family,’ said the professor. ‘At least, not close. The usual collection of aunts, and cousins, whom he does right by, though they see it as insulting that he would rather house a collection of antiques than be generous to them.’
‘How sad for him not to have close family to share his good fortune with,’ said the fat man. ‘A man’s family is his strength. Do you have brothers and sisters?’
The professor looked a little sad.
‘Your question shames me somewhat,’ he said. ‘Yes, I have a brother, but it’s been many years since we’ve spoken. We had a disagreement, a falling out, for which he’s never forgiven me.’
‘That is unfortunate,’ said the fat man. ‘As for this Vassilis Eliadis, I’m surprised that he’s not married. A man with his assets usually has all kinds of matches thrown in his way, and finds it difficult to remain a bachelor.’
‘Maybe he was too busy making his money,’ said the professor. ‘He’s one of those men who has the Midas touch, a man who sees opportunity in everything. They’re not a common breed in these islands, and certainly not in Mithros. He’s a man of energy, even though he’s not the man he was. He was the victim of a robbery some years ago, and the incident scarred him, physically and mentally, I think.’
‘I heard about the robbery.’ The fat man ate more of the aubergines. ‘Was it ever thought it might have been connected in some way to the bull?’
Professor Philipas drained his glass, and poured more wine for them both, though the fat man’s glass was still almost full.
‘I don’t know about that,’ he said. ‘Possibly. Can I tell you something? You’ve shown such interest in the bull and the museum, and I feel I can trust you.’
‘Indeed you can,’ said the fat man. ‘If my trust is warranted, I would never betray it.’
‘Something I would never have expected has happened. We had a break-in, last night. As far as I can tell, only one item was taken.’
‘Which was?’
‘The bull.’
‘But the bull is a replica, surely?’
‘You know it is. And it states quite clearly on the cabinet that it is so.’
Now the fat man drank more wine, but only a little.
‘How curious,’ he said. ‘Why do you suppose anyone would go to the trouble of stealing a replica?’
‘I don’t know. It has some value on its own account, in its craftsmanship, and the gold work too, of course. But not enough value, I wouldn’t have thought, to make it worth the risk of stealing. We’ve no crime at all here normally, as I’m sure you’re aware, and I’d be surprised if there’s any local involvement. This time of year, though, all kinds of people come and go. Who knows who’s here, and what they’re up to? But I admit I’m baffled. There’s not much value in the gold hooves and horns, and if there are thieves in Mithros, it would seem more logical to set their sights on the jeweller’s in the harbour.’
‘It is curious, isn’t it?’ said the fat man. ‘Intriguing.’
‘It’s left me troubled,’ said Professor Philipas. ‘I wonder if the thief might have seen what else is there, and come back a second time. I’m thinking especially of the antiquities, the coin collection and the arrowheads. They’re worth a bit of money to collectors. I thought when we had eaten I’d go across there and make sure all’s well. You’d be welcome to join me, if you’d like.’
‘Gladly,’ said the fat man.
The professor fetched the keys from a hook on the kitchen wall, and led the way the short distance to the museum, lighting the dark lane with a torch. He used the torch beam to find the keyhole in a new padlock, and opened it with a shiny steel key.
‘I thought my precautions were sufficient,’ he said. ‘I didn’t think we had anything here to attract thieves. It was a clean job, at least, the locks picked and no damage to anything. Even so, it makes me uneasy. I put this padlock on, but there’s no reason it should stop someone any more than the other locks did last night.’
Inside the museum, the professor turned on the lights. He showed the unbroken display case, and the space where the bull used to be.
‘You know, I shouldn’t worry too much about the thief returning,’ said the fat man. ‘I think he knew what he wanted, and got it.’
‘Since he went straight to it, and left with nothing else,’ said the professor, ‘I think you’re right. I know the contents of these cases like the back of my hand, and nothing else has been touched.’
‘I’ll leave you to make the place secure. Please do thank your wife for an excellent dinner.’ They shook hands. ‘Might I return the compliment, and invite you to dine with me aboard my boat? I think you’d find Aphrodite comfortable, and Enrico is a passable cook. I expect to be here a couple more days at least; so why don’t we say the day after tomorrow? If you come down to the harbour-side at seven, I’ll send the launch over to collect you.’
Professor Philipas smiled his appreciation.
‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘That’s very kind.’
‘Your wife is welcome to join us, of course.’
‘I’ll pass on your invitation, but I’m afraid she’s unlikely to accept,’ said the professor. ‘As you’ll have seen, she finds socialising stressful.’
‘Well, in that case you must come alone.’
‘I’ll look forward to it.’
When the fat man had gone, the professor sat down at his desk, where he stayed for some time, looking at the phone, until at last he seemed to find some resolve, and picked up the receiver. He dialled a local number.
‘It’s me,’ he said, when the call was answered. ‘I had to speak to you. Can you talk?’
Enrico was waiting at the quayside. When he saw the fat man approaching, he stood up in the bows and leaned forward to hold the dinghy steady as the fat man stepped aboard.
The fat man gave the signal to depart, but Enrico didn’t immediately start the engine.
‘With respect, kyrie,’ he said, ‘before we go, there’s something you should know. Whilst you were eating dinner, I learned there’s been something of a drama which will interest you.’
The fat man’s eyebrows lifted.
‘A drama? Of what kind?’
‘They’ve found a body,’ said Enrico. ‘They brought it round from Kolona, where we were this morning. They’re keeping it in a fridge at the butcher’s shop. I joined the crowd, of course, and went to see it for myself. I caught no more than a glimpse, but it wasn’t pretty.’
‘Whose body is it?’
‘Not a local man, by all accounts. What I heard was, it’s a man abandoned by his shipmates a day or two ago.’
‘Really?’ The fat man became thoughtful. ‘I saw him myself, this morning, and he was very much alive. How did he die?’
‘In the most bizarre fashion. They found him head-first down a well.’
‘Did they? That must have been the well I myself drank from, earlier today. It’s hard to imagine a man might fall down there accidentally. The opening is quite narrow. Did anyone have a theory as to what had happened?’
‘They were speculating, of course. But people often speculate, and make very little sense.’
‘The police were there, I presume.’
‘The police, the army, the coastguard, all trying to push responsibility on to each other. The scene was chaotic, as you can imagine. They called a doctor to certify the death, but it was hardly necessary. A man can’t be that black in the face, and still be alive. He made a grim corpse, what I saw of him. They’re keeping him in the butcher’s fridge until they find out who he is. And with him having drifted in here, there’s some concern as to how they’ll find the next of kin.’
The fat man glanced at the gold watch on his wrist.
‘It’s too late to do anything tonight,’ he said. ‘The butcher’s will have closed some time ago. But we can assume the poor castaway won’t be going anywhere before morning. We’ll go back to Aphrodite now. Tomorrow will be soon enough to have a close look at the body, and ask some questions.’