“One thing puzzles me,” he said. “Dimitri Paros liked to be in at the kill where most things were concerned, yet he chose to forgo the pleasure of personally eliminating a man he hated. I wonder why?”
“He said he had business to take care of.”
“It must have been important.”
He opened his drawer and took out the Beretta and the gutting knife which had killed Dimitri. It was of common pattern, the handle of black horn bound with brass and slightly curved. When he pressed the button with his thumb, a nine-inch blade appeared as if by magic.
He pushed it back into place and frowned. “Rather an unusual way to stab a man to death, wouldn’t you say?”
“An old commando trick,” Lomax said. “Here, I’ll show you.”
He took the knife and stood, holding it concealed in the palm of his right hand against his thigh. His arm swung upwards suddenly, the blade jumping out of his hand like a snake’s tongue. He dropped it point first into the desk and sat down again.
“It’s a convenient way of killing a man at close quarters from the front. Death is instantaneous because the blade penetrates the brain.”
“And this was the method used to kill Dimitri Paros?”
“I’m sure of it. There was still a smile on his face. You must have noticed that yourself. He was killed by someone he knew well and I’d like to point out that he’d hardly have been smiling at me.”
“A good point,” Kytros admitted, “though I wouldn’t have described it as a pleasant smile.”
“There was nothing pleasant about the bastard,” Lomax said. “Another thing, if I’d wanted to kill him, why use the knife when I had the Beretta?”
Kytros sighed. “A confusing business, Mr. Lomax. If only you’d waited for me at the wharf. Things could have been so different.”
“The story of my life. What happens now?”
“There are various loose ends. The autopsy for instance. Doctor Spanos is doing it now. Afterwards…”
Stavrou moved forward swinging his keys and Lomax said bitterly, “In other words I’m still number one on the list.”
“I’m afraid so,” Kytros said.
“Have it your way. Just remember I’m a British citizen.”
Kytros nodded. “I’ll radio Crete. They’ll notify your embassy in Athens at once. Is there anything else?”
“I could do with a change of clothing. I’m still rather damp and it’s pretty cold in that cell.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” Kytros said. “Now, you must excuse me. I have many things to attend to.”
Stavrou took Lomax back to the cell and locked him in. When he had gone, Lomax hitched the blanket about his shoulders and sat on the bed, his back against the wall.
If only he’d waited for Kytros on the wharf. But it was too late for that kind of talk now. He was trapped in a web of circumstantial evidence, already judged and condemned.
Steps sounded in the corridor. As he turned to the door Stavrou’s face appeared at the grille. He opened the door and tossed a woollen sweater on the bed. “Something to be going on with.”
Lomax peeled off his jacket and reached for the sweater. As he pulled it over his head, there was a movement in the shadows and Katina moved forward.
Her face was very white, the eyes dark pools. They stood there in a private world of their own saying nothing and Stavrou cleared his throat. “Five minutes, that’s all.”
The door closed, the key turned in the lock and they were alone. She raised a hand and gently touched his face. “Are you all right? They haven’t hurt you?”
“A few bruises. Nothing to speak of.”
And then he noticed that she had been weeping and drew her down on to the bed. “What is it, Katina?”
“I went to The Little Ship to ask my uncle to help, but he refused to see me,” she said. “Nikoli and the rest of his crowd are drinking themselves into a frenzy. It was terrible.”
“You think they mean trouble?”
She nodded slowly. “I believe they intend to handle things in their own way if they can.”