“No.”
“It came from one of your jackets. We took the liberty of having a detective go to your home this morning to check out your wardrobe. A button was missing from one of your jackets. The threads match perfectly. And the jacket came back from the cleaners just a week ago.”
“I don’t…”
“Mr. Demiris, you said you told your wife you wanted a divorce and that she was trying to talk you out of it?”
“That’s correct.”
The chief inspector held up the business card that Demiris had been shown at the beach house the day before. “One of our men visited the Katelanos Detective Agency today.”
“I told you—I never heard of them.”
“Your wife hired them to protect her.”
The news came as a shock. “Melina? Protect her from what?”
“From you. According to the owner of the agency, your wife was threatening to divorce you, and you told her that if she went through with it you would kill her. He asked her why she didn’t go to the police for protection, and she said she wanted to keep the matter private. She didn’t want the publicity.”
Demiris rose to his feet. “I’m not going to stay here and listen to these lies. There’s no…”
The chief inspector reached into a drawer and took out the blood-stained knife that had been found at the beach house.
“You told the officer at the beach house that you had never seen this before?”
“That’s right.”
“Your fingerprints are on this knife.”
Demiris was staring at the knife. “My—my fingerprints? There’s some mistake. That’s impossible!”
His mind was racing. He swiftly ran through the evidence that was piling up against him: the maid saying that he had called his wife at two o’clock and told her to come to the beach house alone…a pair of his swimming trunks with blood on them…a button torn from his jacket…a knife with his fingerprints…
“Don’t you see, you idiots? It’s a frame-up,” he shouted. “Someone carried those trunks to the beach house, spilled a little blood on them and on the knife, ripped a button off my jacket, and…”
The special prosecutor interrupted. “Mr. Demiris, can you explain how your fingerprints got on that knife?”
“I—I don’t know…Wait. Yes. I remember now. Melina asked me to cut open a package for her. That must be the knife she handed me. That’s why my fingerprints are on it.”
“I see. What was in the package?”
“I…I don’t know.”
“You don’t know what was in the package?”
“No. I just cut the rope around it. She never opened it.”
“Can you explain the blood stains on the carpet, or in the sand leading down to the water, or…?”
“It’s obvious.” Demiris shot back. “All Melina had to do was cut herself a little and then walk out toward the water so you would think I murdered her. She’s trying to get even with me because I told her I was going to divorce her. Right now, she’s hiding somewhere, laughing because she thinks you’re going to arrest me. Melina’s as alive as I am.”
The special prosecutor said gravely, “I wish that were true, sir. We pulled her body out of the sea this morning. She had been stabbed and drowned. I’m placing you under arrest, Mr. Demiris, for the murder of your wife.”
Chapter Twenty-four
In the beginning, Melina had had no idea how she was going to accomplish it. She knew only that her husband intended to destroy her brother and she could not let that happen. Somehow, Costa had to be stopped. Her life no longer mattered. Her days and nights were filled with pain and humiliation. She remembered how Spyros had tried to warn her against the marriage. You can’t marry Demiris. He’s a monster. He’ll destroy you. How right he had been. And she had been too much in love to listen. Now her husband had to be destroyed. But how? Think like Costa. And she had. By morning, Melina had worked out all the details. After that, the rest had been simple.
Constantin Demiris was in his study working when Melina walked in. She was carrying a package tied with a heavy cord. She held a large butcher knife in her hand.