‘Sofia Sampson. An unexpected pleasure.’

  Domenico approached from the shadows, nodding for her to be released. He looked smug, like a child who had outwitted a parent. There was a nervous energy to him that didn’t come across in photographs. His stance looked forced, like he didn’t know where to place his limbs, although he held his head with a stiff arrogance.

  ‘I wish I could say the same about your hospitality,’ she replied, rubbing her wrist.

  ‘What can I say? Perhaps if I’d been informed of your attendance I could have arranged a better welcome.’

  She forced the sides of her mouth to twitch. It was a good idea to play his game. She could already tell that this was a man who liked being appreciated. ‘I’m flattered that you recognised me.’ She watched his face carefully.

  ‘Of course.’ He shrugged, again giving the impression that he had done something of which to be immensely proud. ‘You’re an accomplished woman, Sofia, with a public image. It wasn’t difficult to find the face behind the voice on the phone.’

  ‘Well, as a detective, I’m impressed that you managed to spot me in the queue so quickly.’

  He chuckled, as if he was impressed by his own abilities. ‘I saw you as soon as my car pulled in. Like I say, you’re not difficult to spot. And I have an eye for exceptional women.’

  Good. He didn’t know that Katerina was here, nor, she suspected, who she was. She stepped forwards, making sure to keep her gaze steady. ‘You’ve gone to the trouble of the theatrics, care to tell me why we’re down here?’ Her voice reflected back at her, muted and almost muffled against the cream stone walls.

  ‘I thought you wanted to talk.’

  ‘Seems like you do too.’ She cocked her head to one side, trying to gauge how serious of a situation she was in. Surely, he wouldn’t be so audacious as to try anything here in the gallery building? It’s what she was counting on. And it’s why Pete would likely not be coming to her rescue. She hoped she was right.

  He laughed at this, a full-bellied sound which rebounded off the surface of the lockers and flooded her ear canals. She resisted the urge to run. This was all a show, she was sure. That was enough to reassure her. He wanted to display his power, nothing more, for the moment. ‘Surprising to see you here, that’s all,’ he said. ‘I’m intrigued to know what you think you have to say to me. It must be important to have come all this way.’

  ‘I’m from London originally and was visiting anyway,’ she lied. ‘But you’re right, as I said on the phone, I’d like to talk. There are a few things I need clearing up–’

  ‘I’ve told you everything I know.’ The energy that seemed to be continuously coursing through his limbs flared; he flinched. She had irritated him.

  ‘Yes, I’m grateful for that. However, I have a couple more questions, if you have time?’

  He looked over her shoulder and she braced herself for being manhandled again. Instead, she listened to the security guard jogging up the stairs, leaving her alone with Domenico. He turned his back to her. ‘Follow me, then. There’s a conference room here. We can talk.’

  She hesitated: following a man like Domenico further into the building seemed counterintuitive, but she wanted to read him. Already, she had a far better impression of him than she had gathered over the phone. At this stage, anything, any weakness in his character, any slight hesitation, could help her. He held a glass door open to a square stale meeting room and she settled into a leather swivel chair, resting her elbows on the table. ‘I’ll cut to the chase, I know you’re a busy man.’

  He nodded, his chin resting in his hands, his eyes drinking her in. She made sure to hold his gaze.

  ‘You’ll have heard that Innes was arrested?’

  ‘Terrible news,’ he said, biting his lip. ‘You think she had something to do with Alek’s death?’

  ‘His murder?’ she clarified. ‘We have sufficient evidence linking her to the shooting. Does this seem within character to you?’ She finished the sentence with a sharp inflection, hoping to jolt him into giving, if not an honest, then at least an unplanned response.

  ‘I am afraid that I’m not familiar enough with her character to make a judgement call,’ he said. The tips of his fingers pressed against his cheeks, making his face appear stretched and ghoulish.

  ‘You are friends? Enough to exchange phone conversations, for example?’

  ‘You and I have exchanged phone conversations,’ he said, far too suggestively for her liking. ‘Would you count me as a friend?’

  She ignored him, purposefully diving into the next question to catch him off-guard. ‘Does the word “unveil” mean anything to you?’

  There it was. If nothing else, she had gained something from this trip. A flicker in the eye – she was practised enough to know when an errant thought passed through someone’s brain. ‘Unveil’ meant something to him, she was sure. ‘Domenico?’

  ‘The word doesn’t ring a bell. But I am Italian–’

  ‘Svelatare, then?’

  He shook his head, although she noticed the colour rising steadily up his cheeks. She smiled. ‘Never mind, it was a long shot anyway.’

  There was a short pause in which she detected something that felt strangely close to a mutual understanding. Then, he broke her gaze with a quick sigh. ‘I won’t pretend to understand the complexities of a police investigation.’ He chuckled, revealing his front teeth to her. He looked lupine, like he wanted to taste her.

  ‘No, no need for that.’ She froze, a thorny instinct beginning to prickle beneath her skin. She was also well-practised at identifying individuals with whom it was a bad idea to spend much time alone. He was smooth, sophisticated, good-looking in a wealthy sort of way – but he had that quality; it bristled through his every manicured movement. That intangible sense of being above everything. Of the rules being mere toys. People like this were the most dangerous types. They saw everything as a game. She stood, pulling her shoulders back, forcing the movement to seem relaxed.

  ‘Oh–’ She began walking to the door, silently hoping that he didn’t stop her. He followed her lead. ‘A silly thing really…’

  Thankfully, he held the door open for her. ‘Yes?’

  ‘We found some odd speakers on the hotel grounds, by the wall that leads to the beach. You wouldn’t know anything about those?’

  ‘Odd how? You mean they’re unsafe? I don’t really have a handle on the details of the place – Lily is best placed to help you there.’

  ‘Not unsafe, no. They’re hidden in the walls. Facing the wrong way, away from the hotel.’

  He walked beside her, and she watched his jaw tighten, then slacken, as if he was forcing himself to remain relaxed. He pouted, giving a shrug. ‘You can never find decent workmen – I’ll ask Lily to look into it. You’re concerned about noise complaints?’

  ‘Should I be?’

  He stopped, that jolt of nervous energy reverberating through his profile. ‘If there is a problem with the speakers, I can arrange for them to be fixed.’

  ‘Good.’ She met his eyes, which glinted almost yellow beneath the halogen light. ‘It’s just that they’re built into the wall itself, cemented in. I imagine it will be a big job. Unbelievable that someone would make that sort of mistake, isn’t it? And that no one would notice?’

  His eyes traced her face, as if he was trying to piece her expression together. She gave him nothing, keeping her lips narrow and straight, her eyes placid and amicable.

  ‘I’d say just as unbelievable as you happening to be in London this week.’

  Her nerves betrayed her; she glanced towards the stairs that lay at the end of the long corridor of lockers.

  ‘Do I make you anxious, Sofia?’

  She filled her lungs and faced him again, ignoring the sensation of her heart pumping more quickly, more urgently, sounding the alarm. ‘Not anxious, no. I don’t think you’d be stupid enough to hurt me down here. You make me suspicious, though.’

  His lips curled upwards in a satisfied grin. ‘Suspicion is just another word for ignorance.’

  She raised her eyes to the ceiling. The gallery would be filling up with guests sipping champagne and chattering happily. She hoped that Katerina would continue as planned. ‘You’ll be missed upstairs. Maybe I’ll see you at the Saturnalia.’

  His grin turned into a baring of teeth. ‘Oh, I doubt that. It’s a highly exclusive event. Unless the police have good reason, I’d ask that you don’t interfere.’

  She nodded and began to walk towards the exit, forcing herself to maintain a reasonable pace. ‘You’d better get those speakers seen to, then.’

  Screensaver

  ‘Baba never talks about it. He finds it too painful.’ Maria clasped her hands behind her knees. An unopened bottle of wine was propped up in the sand, along with two plastic wine cups. The beach by the Temple of Apollo was mostly empty, apart from the meowing cats in the dunes. ‘He would have mentioned it if he’d thought he was supposed to, though. It’s not like you asked him, is it?’

  Her voice had an edge to it, which Michail suspected had a lot to do with the direction their conversation had taken. It was likely that she had not expected him to open with the topic of her sister’s suicide. Hopefully, given the urgency of the investigation, she would understand.

  ‘That’s correct. The most pressing fact to establish was your father’s whereabouts on the night of Teddy’s murder. Once he had confirmed his alibi, there was no logical reason to ask him further questions.’

  She squinted at him. He couldn’t help but notice how her eyelashes grazed the top of her cheekbones. She almost moved like a sculpture; the tiny hairs seemed to rest as heavy as marble on her flesh when she blinked. ‘Then why are you asking me? Or did I misunderstand? I thought we were meeting socially. I didn’t realise that I should prepare for questioning.’

  ‘No, no.’ He slid his hands beneath the fine sand, clenching his fists tight and full of the grainy substance. It was cooler beneath the surface. ‘I agree that it is, on the one hand, unfortunate timing. However, on the other, it is quite fortunate. I need your help in tracking down Eleni’s friends, if you would be willing to help? A personal contact will be the most efficient way.’

  She shook her head and sighed, before retrieving a corkscrew from her bag and opening the wine. ‘You think this will help find the murderer? I know you can’t tell me much more, but you think it will help?’

  ‘The circumstances of Eleni’s death have raised a few questions–’

  She gulped, the wine almost spurting from her mouth. ‘Eleni killed herself years ago, Michail. Please, unless you’re certain that this is useful, don’t rake all this up for Baba. He doesn’t need to go through it all again. She killed herself. That’s it.’ Her voice cracked at the end of the sentence and she took another long sip of wine, before sighing. ‘I can try and contact some of the girls. Maybe Georgia? She used to post a lot. I think I’m still following her.’

  ‘Apparently the friendship group is not the easiest to contact.’

  She gritted her teeth. ‘Like I said, I’ll try. Just don’t mention it to Baba if you can help it, okay?’

  It felt very important not to cause more upset than necessary. The death of a loved one was like an incurable, flimsy scar. You could live with it most days. You could avert your darkest thoughts and memories. Sometimes it would itch, which was natural for any healing wound. But it could also break all too easily, spill and ooze with the black liquid that it kept locked up and tidy. Michail spoke very carefully and quietly. ‘It is incomprehensible, I know.’

  ‘What?’ She looked at him, her eyes slightly damp, somehow larger than before.

  ‘Loss. It is impossible to understand it. In fact, the mind is not built to comprehend death, nor longing. Humans are not built for it. If we were, then memories would be malleable. We would be able to pick and choose. Instead, they run free with the ability to bring joy, of course, but also torment.’

  She gave a long, low exhale and the sound of her breath mingled with the lapping of the evening sea. ‘It’s not just memories that I can’t control.’ She laughed. ‘First dates can also bring up the past just as unexpectedly.’

  ‘Ah.’ She made a very pertinent point. ‘I’m afraid I have a few more questions.’

  ‘All right.’ She held the bottle up to him and began to pour him a cup. ‘No point letting it go to waste.’

  He accepted the wine and bowed his head forwards, scanning his notebook which was now grainy from the sand. ‘You’d already moved to Athens when Eleni died. The Aegina police treated her death as a straightforward suicide. Did you speak to her in the lead-up to her death?’

  ‘She was younger than me. Especially at that age – I’d finished with my studies, moved away. I saw her very much as a baby sister.’

  ‘There was no change in her behaviour? Nothing that suggested she was unhappy?’

  She stared blankly at the sea for a few moments, before pushing up to her feet. ‘Mind if we walk up to the temple? The view of the sky is brilliant from there in the evening.’ She looked down at him and smiled. ‘Don’t worry, we can keep talking. Although, hopefully we can move on to another topic in a bit.’

  His wine clasped in one hand, he followed her up the dunes and to the dusty road that led to the archaeological site’s entrance. He thought about hurrying to catch her up, however, as he followed her, a quiet descended over his limbs, a calm. It was nice being led, being told where to go. It was safe, secure.

  As she approached the entrance, he called, ‘It’s past closing hours.’

  ‘We used to hang out up there all the time as kids. There’s no gate or anything. No one minds.’

  He frowned but managed to fight the urge to refuse, as well as explain to her why rules were put in place for a reason and, if everybody ignored them, then the very fabric of society as they knew it would collapse. Without warning, Maria rounded back and rested her head on his shoulder. Her hair smelled almost salty with a hint of something citrus. ‘Don’t look so worried! Come on, surely even police officers bend the rules once in a while?’

  He was about to explain that she was unfortunately correct and that plenty of officers took a sloppy view of society’s laws, which was why it was important that he took a strict stance on the matter. Then he remembered how he had not only bent the rules, but completely disregarded them when he had lied about Katerina. What right did he have to pass judgement on others? He had none. No right at all. But he could begin to make amends within himself, to restore balance. He stopped sharp in his tracks. The solitary remaining column of the Temple of Apollo reached lonely into the sky, a few metres up the slope from where they stood. It had lasted millennia, retaining its strength and integrity throughout war and weather and unprecedented change. As the rest of the temple had crumbled around it, as its god had ceased to be worshipped, it stood tall. Quiet and reliable.

  ‘Michail, are you okay?’

  ‘Yes.’ He nodded, a sharp, decisive movement. ‘Yes, if you don’t mind, Maria, I would like to stop here.’

  ‘Here?’ She pouted. ‘But we can’t see the view from here.’

  ‘That is true. I…’ That empty sensation, like a hand groping uselessly through his brain, surfaced. He wanted to explain how this tiny transgression, this slight, innocuous bending of the law, seemed now like a gargantuan step in the wrong direction. The beginning of a slippery slope. He wanted to put into words how, since last summer, he had felt like a broken version of himself and that, despite him fastidiously following the various tips from his counsellor, he had been unsuccessful in regaining his former assuredness. His former sense of who he was. He blew out useless air through his lips. ‘I have a strong preference not to trespass the Temple of Apollo.’

  Maria looked like she was about to laugh, but she didn’t. Instead, she tilted her head to one side and traced his face with gentle eyes. ‘I understand.’

  ‘Thank you–’

  ‘But you would be neglecting your duty if you refused to intervene having seen someone drinking on the temple grounds, who had broken in after opening hours.’

  ‘Of course, I–’

  Before he understood what she meant, a stream of laughter escaped her lips and she dashed under the wooden barrier, taking a sharp left up the path that led towards the top of the hill, leaving a cloud of dust in her wake. In the place of words, he let out a deep groan and ducked under the barrier himself. Quickening his pace, he meandered through the low excavations, the remnants of the Helladic settlements, the Mycenaean constructs now reduced to their foundations; in times gone by this Acropolis would have been a bustling fusion of various temples and tombs, theatrical structures, and an aqueduct. Now, as he wound up the short hill, it felt homogenised, bathed in beige, muted and sad. Maria sat at the top of the steps leading up to the column. She was leaning on her hands, her face tilted up to the orange clouds. Against the lava sky, she appeared like a grey statue.

  She smiled without opening her eyes as he approached. ‘Am I in trouble?’

  He sighed, exhausted. ‘I will make an exception this once, considering the fact that I still have a few important questions.’ The lilt in his own voice surprised him: he sounded as if he was joking. It was an odd sensation. He felt ungrounded, like he was barefoot on unfamiliar land. It was a complete diversion from the security he had felt following her only moments before – she flitted between emotions easily. He realised he didn’t hate it, far from irritating him, her unpredictability seemed organic, natural. He nodded at the column. ‘The entasis is more obvious when there is only one column standing.’

  ‘Entasis?’

  ‘Yes. The thickening of the column at the bottom. It’s narrower at the top.’ He twisted, gesturing to the width around the base. ‘The ancients applied the geometrical philosophy to their temples. This is a part of it – the thickening isn’t regular, you see. It curves, but never wider than the base. When looked at in the whole, the temple seems built upon straight lines. However, the lines are all curved in reality. But on its own, the illusion is broken.’