Memories of Midnight

"Maybe this Chotas really thought that…"

"Let me finish, please. The body of Catherine Douglas was never found. The reason it was never found, Mr. Rizzoli, is because she is alive. Constantin Demiris had her hidden away."

Tony Rizzoli was staring at him. "Wait a minute. Demiris knew she was alive, and he let his mistress and her boyfriend go to their deaths for killing her?"

"Exactly. I’m not sure precisely what the law is, but I am sure that if the facts were to come out, my brother-in-law would spend a good deal of time in prison. At the very least, he would certainly be ruined."

Tony Rizzoli sat there, thinking about what he had just heard. There was something puzzling him. "Mr. Lambrou, why are you telling me this?"

Spyros Lambrou’s lips moved in a beatific smile. "Because I owe my brother-in-law a favor. I want you to go see him. I have a feeling he’ll be very happy to let you use his ships."

Chapter Fourteen

There were storms raging in him over which he had no control, a cold center deep within him with no warm memories to dissolve it. They had begun a year ago with his act of revenge against Noelle. He had thought that that had ended it, that the past was buried. It had never occurred to him that there might be repercussions until, unexpectedly, Catherine Alexander had come back into his life. That had necessitated the removal of Frederick Stavros and Napoleon Chotas. They had played a deadly game against him, and he had won. But what surprised Constantin Demiris was how much he had enjoyed the risk, the cutting edge of excitement. Business was fascinating, but it paled compared to the game of life and death. I’m a murderer, Demiris thought. No – not a murderer. An executioner. And instead of being appalled by it, he found it exhilarating.

Constantin Demiris received a weekly report on Catherine Alexander’s activities. So far, everything was working out perfectly. Her social activities were confined to the people she worked with. According to Evelyn, Catherine occasionally went out with Kirk Reynolds. But since Reynolds worked for Demiris, that presented no problem. The poor girl must be desperate, Demiris thought. Reynolds was boring. He could talk about nothing but the law. But that was all to the good. The more desperate Catherine was for companionship, the easier it would be for him. I owe Reynolds a vote of thanks.

Catherine was seeing Kirk Reynolds regularly, and she found herself drawn to him more and more. He was not handsome, but he was certainly attractive. I learned my lesson about handsome with Larry, Catherine thought wryly. The old expression is true: Handsome is as handsome does. Kirk Reynolds was thoughtful and reliable. He’s someone I can count on, Catherine thought. I don’t feel any great burning spark, but I probably never will again. Larry took care of that. I’m mature enough now to settle for a man I respect, who respects me as a companion, someone with whom I can share a nice, sane life without being worried about being thrown off mountaintops, or being buried in dark caves.

They went to the theater to see The Lady’s Not for Burning by Christopher Fry, and, on another evening, September Tide with Gertrude Lawrence. They went to nightclubs. The orchestras all seemed to be playing the "The Third Man Theme" and "La Vie En Rose."

"I’m going to St. Moritz next week," Kirk Reynolds told Catherine. "Have you thought about it?"

Catherine had given it a great deal of thought. She was sure that Kirk Reynolds was in love with her. And I love him, Catherine thought. But loving and being in love are two different things, aren’t they? Or am I just being a dumb romantic? What am I looking for – another Larry? – someone who’ll sweep me off my feet, fall in love with another woman, and try to kill me? Kirk Reynolds would make a wonderful husband. Why am I hesitating?

That night Catherine and Kirk dined at the Mira-belle, and when they were having dessert, Kirk said, "Catherine, in case you don’t know, I’m in love with you. I want to marry you."

She felt a sudden panic. "Kirk…" And she was not sure what she was going to say. My next words, Catherine thought, are going to change my life. It would be so simple to say yes. What’s holding me back? Is it the fear of the past? Am I going to live my whole life being afraid? I can’t let that happen.

"Cathy…"

"Kirk – Why don’t we go to St. Moritz together?"

Kirk’s face lit up. "Does that mean…?"

"We’ll see. Once you see me ski you probably won’t want to marry me."

Kirk laughed. "Nothing in the world could keep me from wanting to marry you. You’ve made me one very happy fellow. We’ll go up on November fifth – Guy Fawkes Day."

"What is Guy Fawkes Day?"

"It’s a fascinating story. King James had a strict anti-Catholic policy, so a group of prominent Roman Catholics plotted to overthrow the government. A soldier named Guy Fawkes was brought over from Spain to lead the plot. He arranged for a ton of gunpowder, in thirty-six barrels, to be hidden in the basement of the House of Lords. But on the morning that they were to blow up the House of Lords, one of the conspirators told on them and they were all caught. Guy Fawkes was tortured, but he wouldn’t talk. All the men were executed. Now, every year in England, the day of the discovery of the plot is celebrated by bonfires and fireworks, and small boys make effigies of ‘Guys.’"

Catherine shook her head. "That’s a pretty grim holiday."

He smiled at her and said quietly, "I promise you that ours won’t be grim."

The night before they were to leave, Catherine washed her hair, packed and unpacked twice, and felt sick with excitement. She had known only two men carnally in her life, William Fraser and her husband. Do they still use words like ‘carnally’? Catherine wondered. My God, I hope I remember how. They say it’s like riding a bicycle; once you do it, you never forget. Maybe he’s going to be disappointed in me in bed. Maybe I’m going to be disappointed in me in bed. Maybe I should just stop worrying about it and go to sleep.