Mrs. Pargeter's Public Relations by Simon Brett

Author:Simon Brett [Simon Brett]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Severn House Publishers
Published: 2016-11-08T16:00:00+00:00

EIGHTEEN

Mendy Farstairs led Mrs Pargeter along the side of her perfect blue swimming pool, through the displays of ancient Greek statuary towards the cat sanctuary. Overelaborate wrought-iron gates were open at the front. As they passed, Mrs Pargeter noticed a large chain and padlock hanging from one of them. Apparently the place needed tight security.

The buildings which housed the Greek end of the PhiliPussies operation were of the same high spec as the clinic in Leigh-on-Sea, but less welcoming. There was no reception area, no cosy office for the entertainment of visitors. But then presumably there were very few visitors to the facility. It was only at the English end that potential owners came to inspect the goods on offer.

As a result, the complex of buildings looked more like a military institution than anything else. The individual units were brick-built, but all had metal doors which could be closed with latches and padlocks.

The behaviour of the sanctuary’s inmates was also markedly different from those in Leigh-on-Sea. The Greek cats that had been given sanctuary by Mendy Farstairs were distinctly ungrateful for her magnanimous gesture. They had enjoyed their semi-feral life round Atmos harbour, basking in the shade beneath parked cars, darting out and weaving around the wooden legs of rush-seated taverna chairs, scavenging the food dropped (either accidentally or deliberately) by tourists, wolfing down the guts and entrails left by the fishermen on the harbour walls. They had relished the nights of caterwauling and fierce quick casual sex. Incarceration in cages – of however high a spec – was far from being their idea of fun.

So the noise of feline complaint, which grew in volume as Mendy Farstairs and Mrs Pargeter approached the sanctuary, was fairly overpowering.

So was the smile and bolted-on charm of Costas Philippoussis. His lips below the obligatory dark moustache were thin and the brown eyes flickered with cunning. He was all over Mrs Pargeter.

‘Of course I have been expecting you. I hope Apostolos Philippoussis, who is my—’

‘Cousin?’ Mrs Pargeter hazarded.

‘Yes. I hope he give you a good journey from Skiathos.’

‘Very pleasant, thank you.’

‘And I hope you have been made welcome at Hotel Thalassa by Vasilis, who, as it happens, is also—’

‘Your cousin?’

‘Yes. But please, let me show you around the sanctuary here. I gather you are perhaps maybe considering making an investment in the PhiliPussies charity.’

‘Perhaps maybe,’ Mrs Pargeter echoed.

Mendy Farstairs let Costas do most of the talking during their guided tour. He was very efficient, but Mrs Pargeter got the impression that he was also quite prickly. The slightest murmur of criticism riled him. He was proud of the way he did his job and resented any disparagement of his skills.

For example, when Mrs Pargeter asked if he had any veterinary training, Costas immediately became very defensive. ‘Of course I do. I have degrees, diplomas.’

It wasn’t her habit to grill people, but something in the man’s manner made her distrust him. So she asked, ‘Degrees and diplomas in what?’

‘Well, obviously. Veterinary qualifications.’ Then he backtracked a little, which made Mrs Pargeter absolutely certain he was lying.

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