Angel of Death

‘Is anything wrong?’ Miranda anxiously asked.

‘Not at all, I was out in the garden, that’s all, shutting the hens up for the night, and had to run when I heard the phone ring. You know, they’re laying very well, I’ve had seven dozen eggs this week, and sold them all to the village shop. Organic eggs get snapped up, especially if they’re brown, and my hens lay lots of brown eggs, it’s the feed they get. I’m going to get some ducks, Freddy has put a pond into the garden, feeding off the little stream that goes through the village, he’s out there now, finishing off. I do love a duck egg for my supper. Scrambled, on toast. Lovely colours, duck eggs; very bright yokes and blueish whites. The flavour is a bit salty, but if you mix some cream with the egg before you start scrambling it helps.’ She paused. ‘So, how are you, love? Everything OK?’

‘Fine, I’ve finished my first week in the job, and everything has gone well. I like it here very much, and I’m starting to get used to the heat.’

‘Sounds blissful. Lucky you. I was thinking maybe I might come to Greece while you’re there, spend a few nights in this hotel.’

‘That would be wonderful,’ Miranda said eagerly. ‘I miss you, it would be great to see you. And staff can get better terms for relatives, so let me know if you do plan to come, and I’ll see what I can do.’

‘I will. Maybe in a month or so. When the heat dies down a little. I wouldn’t want to be there while it is so hot. Have you heard from the police in London? That nice Sergeant whats-it?’

‘Maddrell.’ Miranda’s voice took a dive, she sighed. ‘No, not yet. They can’t do much until they find the body.’

‘Well, no, obviously – but why is it taking so long to turn up? What did they do with it?’

‘Neil Maddrell seems to think they put it in Terry’s plane and dropped it in the sea, but it hasn’t come ashore yet.’

‘Maybe they weighted it; it may have sunk to the bottom of the ocean, may never come up.’

‘Then they will never be able to prove what happened,’ Miranda said bleakly, shivering.

‘I hope that doesn’t mean you will have to stay out of the country for good!’

‘Mum, I hope so, too. But at least I should be having my cast removed tomorrow. That will be a relief.’

‘I’m sure it will be.’

She was driven to the local doctor’s surgery next morning. With the cast gone the air felt wonderful on her bare leg. She used a stick for the rest of the morning, but by lunchtime felt able to walk without it.

She was in reception when the hotel bus began depositing new arrivals picked up from the harbour. Miranda waited to see if her services were required. Milo, handing out keys at the desk, smilingly shook his head at her, indicating that the guests did not need a translator, but one of the waiting queue waved at her.

‘Hello, Miranda!’

She gasped in surprise. ‘Sergeant Maddrell!’

‘Neil, please,’ he prompted.

The way he was looking at her made her blush. ‘N . . . Neil,’ she stammered. ‘What are you doing here? Has something happened?’

‘No, afraid not. I’m here strictly for pleasure, on holiday.’

Milo watched and listened, his dark eyes moving from the man’s face back to Miranda.

‘Could we have dinner?’ asked Neil and she nodded, smiling.

‘I’d love to, thanks. What time?’

‘Seven thirty, in the bar?’

‘OK, see you then.’

That evening as she was on her way to the bar she met Milo who looked her over with raised eyebrows, taking in her tight-fitting blue silk dress, which had a low neckline, the navy blue high-heeled sandals which gave her more height.

‘You look delightful, Miranda. Your friend is in the bar – I saw him go in there ten minutes ago. Is he your boyfriend?’

Shaking her head, she casually said, ‘Just someone I know.’

Faintly cynical, Milo told her, ‘I saw the way he looked at you. He likes you a lot.’