‘I can’t tell you much-ow!’

‘Careful,’ Mavros said, touching his own dressing, which he’d forgotten to get changed. ‘That spray will be wearing off.’

Yiota nodded slowly. ‘There isn’t much I can tell you about Maria, Alex. We exchange emails from time to time, but we’ve never been close. I didn’t even see her when the film crew arrived — until she called me yesterday afternoon.’

‘Did you go to pick her up from the Heavenly Blue?’

‘I don’t drive. No, she came in a taxi — not one of the Tsifakis cars. She got the driver to pick her up from the back of the hotel.’

‘So she told you she’d been in Kornaria.’

‘Yes, she said she’d gone for a walk outside the resort on Sunday evening — something about being sick of being cooped up — and that a car stopped and the driver offered her a lift.’

‘Did she know the driver — was it a man or a woman?’

‘A man, I think, but she didn’t say whether she knew him. Someone was hiding in the back seat and suddenly a hood was over her head and a rope round her neck. She was pushed forward so that she was out of sight.’

‘Sounds like the guys who grabbed her today — or equally proficient hard men.’

Yiota Prevelaki turned to him. ‘Not everyone in our family is worthy of approbation, Alex.’ She stared at his expression. ‘What? A village woman isn’t allowed to use learned vocabulary? I trained as a teacher, but my husband’s family doesn’t allow me to work.’ There was a weight of pain in her voice.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said, embarrassed both by underestimating her and at the plight of an educated woman in a Cretan village. ‘Don’t worry, I know about the Kondoyannis family in Florida and the delightful Michael “the Bat”.’

‘Oh,’ she said, surprised. ‘Well, I have nothing to do with them.’

They drove past the gate to the resort, which was now besieged by even more journalists and reporters.

‘Rudolf Kersten was a hero to many people here,’ Yiota said.

Mavros made no comment, still unsure what to believe about the old German’s activities.

‘I don’t know much about the film Maria is working on, though,’ Yiota said. ‘Have you met Cara Parks?’

‘I have.’

‘What’s she like? She doesn’t strike me as the most likely Cretan resistance hero.’

Mavros got the feeling she was leading the conversation in another direction.

‘Listen, Yiota, your cousin is in serious danger. I don’t know if she told you, but she didn’t say anything to us about what happened to her in Kornaria. If I’m going to have any chance of rescuing her again, I need to know everything about her.’

His passenger lowered her head. ‘I can’t, Alex. She’s family.’

‘She’ll be dead family soon!’ he shouted, making her jolt upright. ‘Is that what you want?’

Yiota Prevelaki was quiet until he drew up outside her house. Then she turned to him and spoke in a low voice.

‘The only thing Maria told me was that another Greek-American family has muscled in on the Kondoyannis business, including her father’s links with the Kornaria producers. They seem to think she has something to do with the drugs trade.’

‘And she doesn’t?’

‘No!’ Yiota exclaimed.

‘Are you sure of that?’

Her gaze dropped. ‘No,’ she answered.

Mavros got out and walked her to the front door.

‘Please try to get her back,’ the woman said softly.

‘I will,’ Mavros said, squeezing her hand.

As he walked back to the Jeep, he wondered if the other Greek-American family was that of Luke Jannet and Rosie Yellenberg. Despite their assurances that they had nothing to do with their father’s activities, had they been playing him for a fool from the start?

Cara Parks called as Mavros was approaching the Heavenly Blue. He told her he’d be with her shortly. First, he intended to talk to Hildegard Kersten. Though he had little to tell her, he had some questions.

The widow expressed shock when she saw his neck and was patently unconvinced when he said his razor had slipped. She welcomed him into the apartment, which was the same as it had been when her husband was alive, apart from orderly piles of paper on the desk. She brought coffee and sat down on the sofa next to him.

‘So, Alex, have you found anything out about my Rudi?’

‘I presume you’ve heard from the police that his death has been classified as suicide by the medical examiner?’

She nodded slowly, her lips tightly pressed together. ‘You know as well as I do how unreliable those people are. All they want is a quiet life.’

Don’t we all, Mavros thought, taking a deep breath. ‘Hildegard, I’m getting conflicting stories about your husband.’

‘What do you mean?’ she asked, eyebrows rising.

‘According to David Waggoner, Rudolf didtake part in the massacre in Makrymari. A witness told him so.’

‘Waggoner!’ the widow scoffed. ‘You can’t believe anything that man says.’

‘If your husband didn’t shoot any civilians, why did he pay blackmail for all those years?’

Hildegard sighed and put down her cup. ‘Alex, you must understand. Coming to Crete to live in the Sixties was very difficult for us, but Rudi felt it was his duty to put back as much as he could into the local economy to make up for what happened during the war. As you can imagine, many people didn’t want us and they particularly didn’t want us to build the resort. Rudi eventually convinced the Cretans he was serious by funding village regeneration projects, by setting up scholarships for poor students and so on. But in order to get the permits to start building here, he had to be seen to be cleaner than clean.’

It struck Mavros that there were similarities between the appearance Kersten had to project and the appearances necessary to get funding in Hollywood that Rosie Yellenberg had described.

‘I still don’t understand why he felt he had to pay David Waggoner off.’

The widow looked beyond him towards the sea, which was a mid-afternoon pale-blue, only a few white horses whipped up by the breeze. ‘Alex, I can’t be sure what Rudi did at Makrymari. I’m not sure he knew himself, no matter what he wrote in his diary. He’d received a severe head wound. It may be that, deep down, he saw himself as a cold-blooded murderer of women, boys and old men.’

From what Mavros had seen of the soft-spoken Kersten with his life-worn eyes, that possibility couldn’t be ruled out. But he was sure there was more.

‘What about Kornaria?’ he asked, his tone hardening.

Hildegard regarded him cautiously. ‘The drugs village? What about it?’

Mavros slumped back. ‘If you want me to find out what happened to Rudi — and I knowit was murder — you’ll have to help me. Were the Kornariates blackmailing him too?’

‘No, no,’ the old woman said, her eyes holding his. ‘Waggoner was earning enough for all of them.’

‘What do you mean?’

She looked down. ‘The Englishman wasn’t simply blackmailing us because of Rudi’s wartime deeds, whether he took part in the massacre or not. He was extracting protection money. On this island, especially back in the Sixties, you needed someone to look after your property. I don’t think Kornaria was producing many drugs back then. The mountain men watched over us when the resort was being built. They invested those earnings in marijuana cultivation sheds, from what I’ve heard.’

‘And Waggoner was their intermediary?’

‘That’s right. When Rudi told him we had no more money, he started asking about the coin collection. Rudi couldn’t countenance him getting that and said so.’

‘When?’

‘More than once, but the last time was only a few days ago — on Saturday.’ Hildegard went over to the desk and took some papers from one of the piles. ‘I found these when I was going through the drawers here.’ She handed them to Mavros.

He ran his eyes down the sheets. They were copies of emails that Rudolf Kersten had sent to Waggoner in the days before his death. In them, he threatened to expose the former SOE man as a blackmailer if he didn’t leave him alone. They could certainly be construed as a motive for murder.