Memories of Midnight

A: Did you recognize him?

C: Yes. It was Constantin Demiris.

A: So, in your dream…

C: Alan, it wasn’t just a dream. It was a real memory. I suddenly remembered that Constantin Demiris gave me the gold pin I have.

A: You believe that your subconscious dredged up something that really happened? You’re sure it wasn’t…

C: I know it. Constantin Demiris gave me that pin at the convent.

A: You said you were rescued from the lake by some nuns who took you to the convent?

C: That’s right.

A: Catherine, did anyone else know you were at the convent?

C: No. I don’t think so.

A: Then how could Constantin Demiris have known you were there?

C: I – I don’t know. I just know that it happened. I woke up frightened. It was as though the dream were some kind of warning. I feel something terrible is going to happen.

A: Nightmares can have that effect on us. The nightmare is one of man’s oldest enemies. The word goes back to the Middle English nitz, or "night," and mare, or "goblin." The old superstition is that it prefers to ride after four A.M.

C: You don’t think they have any real meaning?

A: Sometimes they do. Coleridge wrote, "Dreams are no shadows, but the very substances and calamities of my life."

C: I’m probably taking all this too seriously. Other than my crazy dreams, I’m fine. Oh. There’s someone I would like to talk to you about, Alan.

A: Yes?

C: His name is Atanas Stavich. He’s a young boy who came to London to study medicine. He’s had a rough life. I thought that perhaps one day you could meet him and give him some advice.

A: I would be happy to. Why are you frowning?

C: I just remembered something.

A: Yes?

C: It sounds crazy.

A: Our subconscious doesn’t distinguish between crazy and sane.

C: In my dream, when Mr. Demiris handed me the gold pin.

A: Yes?

C: I heard a voice say, "He’s going to kill you."

It must look like an accident. I don’t want anyone to be able to identify her body. There were many ways to kill her. He would have to begin making arrangements. He lay on his bed thinking about them and found that he was getting an erection. Death was the ultimate orgasm. Finally, he knew how he was going to do it. It was so simple. There would be no body left to identify. Constantin Demiris would be pleased.

Chapter Twenty-three

Constantin Demiris’s beach house was located three miles north of Piraeus on an acre of waterfront property. Demiris arrived at seven P.M. He pulled up in the driveway, opened the car door, and started toward the beach house.

As he reached it, the door was opened by a man he did not recognize.

"Good evening, Mr. Demiris."

Inside, Demiris could see half a dozen police officers.

"What’s going on here?" Demiris demanded.

"I’m Police Lieutenant Theophilos. I…"

Demiris pushed him aside and walked into the living room. It was a shambles. A terrible struggle had obviously taken place. Chairs and tables were overturned. One of Melina’s dresses was lying on the floor, torn. Demiris picked it up and stared at it.

"Where’s my wife? I was supposed to meet her here."

The police lieutenant said, "She’s not here. We’ve searched the house and we’ve looked up and down the beach. It looks like the house has been burglarized."

"Well, where’s Melina? Did she call you? Was she here?"

"Yes, we think she was here, sir." He held up a lady’s wristwatch. The crystal had been smashed and the hands had stopped at three o’clock. "Is this your wife’s watch?"

"It looks like it."

"On the back is engraved ‘To Melina with love, Costa.’"

"Then it is. It was a birthday present."

Detective Theophilos pointed to some spots on the rug. "Those are blood stains." He picked up a knife lying on the floor, careful not to touch the handle. The blade was covered with blood.

"Have you ever seen this knife before, sir?"

Demiris gave it a brief glance. "No. Are you saying she’s dead?"

"It’s certainly a possibility, sir. We found drops of blood on the sand leading down to the water."

"My God," Demiris said.

"Luckily for us, there are some clear fingerprints on the knife."

Demiris sat down heavily. "Then you’ll catch whoever did it."

"We will if his fingerprints are on file. There are fingerprints all over the house. We have to sort them out. If you don’t mind giving us your fingerprints, Mr. Demiris, we can eliminate those right away."

Demiris hesitated. "Yes, of course."

"The sergeant right over there can take care of it."

Demiris walked over to a uniformed policeman who had a fingerprint pad. "If you’ll just place your fingers right here, sir." A moment later, it was done. "You understand it’s just a formality."

"I understand."

Lieutenant Theophilos handed Demiris a small business card. "Would you know anything about this, Mr. Demiris?"

Demiris looked at the card. It read, KATELANOS DETECTIVE AGENCY – PRIVATE INVESTIGATIONS. He handed the card back. "No. Does it have any significance?"

"I don’t know. We’re checking into it."

"Naturally, I want you to do everything you can to find out who’s responsible. And let me know if you get word of my wife."

Lieutenant Theophilos looked at him and nodded. "Don’t worry, sir. We will."

Melina. The golden girl, attractive and bright and amusing. It had been so wonderful in the beginning. And then she had murdered their son, and for that there could never be forgiveness…only her death.

The call came in at noon the following day. Constantin Demiris was in the middle of a conference when his secretary buzzed him. "Excuse me, Mr. Demiris…"