Memories of Misnight by Sidney Sheldon

The call came in at noon the following day. Constantin Demiris was in the middle of a conference when his secretary buzzed him. “Excuse me, Mr. Demiris…”

“I told you I didn’t want to be disturbed.”

“Yes, sir, but there’s an Inspector Lavanos on the phone. He says it’s urgent. Do you want me to tell him to…?”

“No. I’ll take it.” Demiris turned to the men sitting around the conference table. “Excuse me a moment, gentlemen.” He picked up the receiver. “Demiris.”

A voice said, “This is Chief Inspector Lavanos, Mr. Demiris, at Central Station. We have some information we think you might be interested in. I wondered whether it would be convenient for you to come down to police headquarters?”

“You have news of my wife?”

“I would prefer not to discuss it over the telephone, if you don’t mind.”

Demiris hesitated for only a moment. “I’ll be right down.” He replaced the receiver and turned to the others. “Something urgent has come up. Why don’t you go on into the dining room and discuss my proposal and I’ll be back in time to join you for lunch.”

There was a general murmur of agreement. Five minutes later, Demiris was on his way to police headquarters.

There were half a dozen men waiting for him in the office of the police commissioner. Demiris recognized the policemen he had already seen at the beach house. “…and this is Special Prosecutor Delma.”

Delma was a short, stocky man, with heavy eyebrows, a round face, and cynical eyes.

“What’s happened?” Demiris demanded. “Do you have some news of my wife?”

The chief inspector said, “To be perfectly frank, Mr. Demiris, we have come across some things that puzzle us. We hoped you might be able to help us.”

“I’m afraid there’s very little I can do to help you. This whole thing is so shocking…”

“You had an appointment to meet your wife at the beach house around three o’clock yesterday afternoon?”

“What? No. Mrs. Demiris telephoned and asked me to meet her there at seven o’clock.”

Prosecutor Delma said smoothly, “Now, that’s one of the things that’s puzzling us. A maid at your home told us that you telephoned your wife about two o’clock and asked her to go to the beach house alone and wait for you.”

Demiris frowned. “She’s confused. My wife telephoned me and asked me to meet her there at seven o’clock last night.”

“I see. So the maid was mistaken.”

“Obviously.”

“Do you know what reason your wife might have had for asking you to go to the beach house?”

“I suppose she wanted to try to talk me out of divorcing her.”

“You had told your wife you were going to divorce her?”

“Yes.”

“The maid says she overheard a telephone conversation during which Mrs. Demiris told you she was going to divorce you.”

“I don’t give a damn what the maid said. You’ll have to take my word for it.”

“Mr. Demiris, do you keep swimming trunks at the beach house?” the chief inspector asked.

“At the beach house? No. I gave up swimming in the sea years ago. I use the pool at the town house.”

The chief inspector opened a desk drawer and took out a pair of swim trunks in a plastic bag. He removed them and held them up for Demiris to see. “Are these your trunks, Mr. Demiris?”

“They could be mine, I suppose.”

“They have your initials on them.”

“Yes. I think I recognize them. They are mine.”

“We found them at the bottom of a closet in the beach house.”

“So? They were probably left there a long time ago. Why…?”

“They were still wet from sea water. The analysis showed that it’s the same water that’s in front of your beach house. They are covered with blood.”

It was getting very hot in the room.

“Then someone else must have put them on,” Demiris said firmly.

The special prosecutor said, “Why would anyone do that? That’s one of the things bothering us, Mr. Demiris.”

The chief inspector opened a small envelope on the desk and took out a gold button. “One of my men found this under a rug at the beach house. Do you recognize it?”

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