The Forty Column Castle Read Online Free Page A

her cheeks, accompanied by intermittent sniffles. She dabbed at
     the tears with a crumpled tissue she retrieved from her pocket.
    “Excuse me, ladies.” Inspector Polydeuces interrupted our whisperings. “We need to
     observe regulations and have you visit in the waiting area.” He ordered one of the
     guards to open the door to her cell.
    “Really, Claudie, this has been so humiliating,” my aunt grumbled under her breath,
     as we walked down the corridor. “There’s no privacy, I haven’t had a decent bath,
     and the smell in here is just horrid.”
    I nodded in agreement. “I can imagine how awful it must be for you. We’ll get you
     out of here as quickly as possible.” I patted her arm, trying to comfort her.
    We seated ourselves across a table in a large open area, and our Cypriot entourage
     collected at the other end of the room for a cigarette. Yannis joined them.
    “How are you holding up? Do you have enough to eat? Are they treating you okay?” I
     asked, grasping her hands and searching her face for signs of maltreatment, as we
     sat across the table from each other.
    “Oh, of course, I’m all right, dear. Cyprus isn’t a third world country. I haven’t
     been tortured or anything. I imagine a jail is a jail though,” she said, philosophically.
     “One should just never have the occasion to be in one.”
    I had to smile. “But what a shock to be innocently waiting for your flight and the
     next instance to be accused of being a thief.”
    She nodded. “It has the element of the surreal, like the Twilight Zone. Any minute
     I think I will wake up from the nightmare.”
    “Nightmare, yes. But someone had to plant the antiquities in your bag.”
    “But, of course, dear. It’s the only explanation.”
    “The next obvious question is did you see anyone near your carry-on?”
    “I have thought and thought about that. You know how I sometimes leave the bag with
     another passenger while I visit the restroom? Well, I didn’t this time, use the rest
     room, I mean. But Mrs. Crawford brought me to the airport.”
    “Who’s she? You’ve never talked about her before,” I asked, leaning closer.
    Her eyes brightened, and she tried to tuck some wisps of white hair back into the
     bedraggled French twist. I could tell she was warming to the subject of a new friend.
    “She’s one of my new traveling companions, dear. We were on the Escort Tour together
     the second day I arrived. Mrs. Kelly and Mrs. Ryan were along, too. You know how I
     love to take the Land Rover tour into the Troodos Mountains. Well, these three ladies
     were on the tour along with a few English magazine writers. We had a marvelous time
     and stopped in a little village for a long lunch with entremezzas. I even treated
     myself to a little wine,” she said and blushed.
    She only had wine at lunch when she really let go.
    “Where are they from?”
    “Who, dear?”
    “Your traveling friends.”
    “Oh, from England. They have the most elegant accents. Like the Queen herself. They
     are on holiday here and come every year and rent a house in old town Pafos. They had
     rented a car, and we went everywhere together. They were ever so friendly. Always
     wanted me with them. Being an American, I think I was a novelty for them.” She looked
     down at her hands folded in front of her on the table but seemed to struggle with
     her next bit of information.
    “We did go to the Turkish sector,” she finally said. “But only for the day, Claudie,”
     she added when I frowned, as she knew I would. “We drove to Nicosia and walked across
     the border. That was all. We just looked around a bit.”
    I was suspicious about the other three women. “Did you meet or talk to anyone while
     you were in the Northern section?”
    “Oh, no dear, not a soul.” She hurried on. “But what I was saying before was that
     Mrs. Crawford brought me to the airport and while I stood in line to check my luggage
     and get my seat she sat in the