I stare nonplussed at the others. Is no one going to mention the fact that Barney stormed off after a stand-up row with Felix, and Dominic punched him squarely in the face?
‘Is something bothering you, Miss’ – Sergeant Griva flicks back a couple of pages in his notebook – ‘Miller?’
I hesitate, my pulse skittering. If I tell the officer Dominic hit Felix he’ll want to know why, and I’m not sure I want the fact that Felix assaulted me to be common knowledge. Not while we still don’t know how he died. I lift my chin and meet his eye. ‘No.’
‘Mr Pearson didn’t spend the night with you, Mrs Pearson? Once he was back from the taverna?’
‘He might well have, but I took two sleeping pills and was out cold the moment my head touched the pillow.’
‘He slept on the sofa in here,’ Willow says. ‘He didn’t want to wake Simone.’
‘So where did you think he was yesterday morning?’ the sergeant asks, clearly perplexed.
‘I just assumed he’d taken himself off for a walk to clear his head.’ Simone glances round at us. ‘We all did. And then when he wasn’t back for lunch, I presumed he’d taken a sea taxi to Thalassia and stayed the night there. It wouldn’t be the first timehe’s done it. I was fully expecting him to turn up for breakfast this morning. I even asked Maria to make some pancakes with bacon and maple syrup for him. They’re his favourite.’
Maria nods in agreement.
‘So this is something that has happened before? Mr Pearson going, how do you say, walkabout?’
‘Every now and then.’ Simone dabs at the corner of her eye. ‘When he didn’t appear, I realised something was very wrong. I was about to phone the police to report him missing when the builders found his body.’
Again, her ability to spin the truth astounds me, because when I’d suggested calling the police she – and the others – had shut me down.
The sergeant mops his brow with his handkerchief. ‘Thank you. I think that is all for now. But I need to ask you not to leave Pelagia. A detective is on his way from Corfu and he would like to speak with all of you too.’ His gaze lingers on me a little too long for my liking, and I feel the colour racing up my neck like a wave at high tide.
‘A detective?’ Barney asks.
Sergeant Griva dips his head. ‘Detective Lieutenant Andreas Demetriou from the homicide unit.’
The room falls so silent I swear I can hear the blood pounding through my veins.
‘Homicide?’ Dominic echoes. ‘Are you saying Felix wasmurdered?’
‘Mr Pearson suffered, how do you say, a catastrophic injury to the brain. The forensic pathologist will decide the cause of death, but I have been a police officer for nearly twenty years and I have only ever seen a head injury like that once before. That man was clubbed to death with a baseball bat.’
Two things happen simultaneously. Simone clutches her chest like the beleaguered heroine in a period drama. Willow doesn’t make a sound as she bolts from the room.
49
AMBER
Detective Lieutenant Andreas Demetriou gazes at us over steepled fingers.
‘I am sorry to have to tell you all that this afternoon we have launched a murder investigation into the death of Felix Pearson.’
There’s a collective gasp of shock. Demetriou continues. ‘Obviously a post-mortem examination still needs to be carried out, but the initial hypothesis is that Mr Pearson was hit over the head with a heavy object.’
‘You mean he didn’t trip and fall?’ Victoria asks.
The detective shakes his head. ‘He did not.’
Demetriou is a careworn man in his late forties with a creased forehead and a crumpled suit. He reminds me of the detectives Gran used to love on TV. The courteous and intuitive ones like Maigret and Poirot, with an old-fashioned copper’s nose and the unerring ability to solve a murder in the space of an hour-long episode.
If Sergeant Griva’s English was good, Demetriou’s is impeccable. He is addressing us in the living room, his dark eyes full of empathy, though I can’t shake the feeling that behind those old-school manners lies a razor-sharp mind.
He’s already spoken to Simone and Willow in private. One look at their stricken faces when they emerged from Felix’s office was enough to tell me Felix’s death was no accident.
But I take no pleasure in being proved right.
