Mrs. Pargeter's Package by Simon Brett

Author:Simon Brett [Simon Brett]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Severn House Publishers
Published: 2012-01-08T16:00:00+00:00

chapter

TWENTY-ONE

* * *

“Talk of the devil,” murmured Mrs. Pargeter.

Sergeant Karaskakis looked more geometric than ever as he approached them. The horizontal line of his cap paralleled the right angles of his uniformed shoulders, and the triangle of its peak was an inverse reflection of his perfectly symmetrical mustache.

His mouth was set in a professional smile to greet Conchita. This paled a little when he saw Mrs. Pargeter. The music blaring from the taverna’s speakers changed. Bouzouki gave way to Beatles.

He gave Mrs. Pargeter a curt nod and turned to Conchita. “Miss Dover?”

“Yes.”

“I am Sergeant Karaskakis.”

“How do you do?”

“I am very sorry about the unfortunate circumstances which have brought you here, and I trust that your journey was not difficult.” This had the air of a sentence that he had practiced.

“No. It was a scheduled flight. There were no delays.”

“Good.” The Sergeant seemed to have taken a decision to conduct the conversation as if Mrs. Pargeter was not there. “Everything is proceeding as quickly as possible with the formalities, Miss Dover. I am optimistic that it will all be concluded in two or three days.”

“Fine.”

“And then you will be free to make your melancholy way back to England with the body.” He seemed rather pleased with this sentence, as if it was another one he had worked at and polished with the help of a dictionary.

“Thank you. So . . . what happens? Do I just wait to hear from you?”

“I will keep you informed, of course. You are staying, I believe in Costa’s Apartments?”

“Yes, the tour company organized that for me.” Conchita suppressed a yawn and looked at her watch. The tensions of the last couple of days were catching up with her. “I think, actually, if there isn’t anything else, I’ll get on up there. I’m pretty knackered.”

“Knackered?” Clearly Sergeant Karaskakis’s precise textbook English didn’t encompass the niceties of slang.

“Tired.”

“Ah, yes.”

“So if you’ll excuse me . . . And Mrs. Pargeter . . .”

“You have a good night’s sleep, Conchita love.”

“Thank you.” The girl waved across to Yianni and mimed writing a bill.

“I hope,” said Sergeant Karaskakis formally, bringing out what appeared to be yet another prepared line, “that you will be able to enjoy your stay in Agios Nikitas as much as the unhappy circumstances permit.”

“Thank you.” Conchita turned the full beam of her smile on Yianni. “Just for two ouzos, please.”

“Yes, of course, please,” he said, blushing a little and fumbling with his notepad.

“Got a taste for ouzo, have you?” asked Mrs. Pargeter. “You been out in Greece before?”

“No, never,” Conchita replied. “But I’ve had it in Greek restaurants in London, and my father always liked it.”

“Oh,” said Mrs. Pargeter.

Conchita paid Yianni and gave him a substantial tip. In full consciousness of her sexuality, she flashed him a farewell smile, then picked up her handbag and rose. “See you around then,” she said to Mrs. Pargeter. “And you know where to find me when you need to, Sergeant.”

“Of course.”

He rose politely to see her off, but then sank down again and looked at Mrs.

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