Memories of Midnight

The jailor was at the cell door. "Your lawyer is here to see you."

Demiris rose and followed the jailor to a small conference room. The lawyer was waiting for him. The man’s name was Vassiliki. He was in his fifties, with bushy gray hair and the profile of a movie star. He had the reputation of being a first-rate criminal attorney. Was that going to be good enough?

The jailor said, "You have fifteen minutes." He left the two of them alone.

"Well," Demiris demanded. "When are you getting me out of here? What am I paying you for?"

"Mr. Demiris, I’m afraid it’s not that simple. The chief prosecutor refuses…"

"The chief prosecutor is a fool. They can’t keep me in this place. What about bail? I’ll put up any amount they ask."

Vassiliki licked his lips nervously. "Bail has been denied. I’ve gone over the evidence that the police have against you, Mr. Demiris. It’s – it’s pretty damaging."

"Damaging or not – I didn’t kill Melina. I’m innocent!"

The attorney swallowed. "Yes, of course, of course. Do you – er – have any idea who might have killed your wife?"

"No one. My wife committed suicide."

The attorney stared at him. "Excuse me, Mr. Demiris, but I don’t think that’s going to make a very good defense. You’re going to have to think of something better than that."

And, with a sinking heart, Demiris knew he was right. There was not a jury in the world that would believe his story.

Early the following morning, the attorney visited Demiris again.

"I’m afraid I have some rather bad news."

Demiris almost laughed aloud. He was sitting in prison facing a sentence of death, and this fool was telling him that he had bad news. What could be worse than the situation he was in?

"Yes?"

"It’s about your brother-in-law."

"Spyros? What about him?"

"I have information that he’s gone to the police and told them that a woman named Catherine Douglas is still alive. I’m not really familiar with the trial of Noelle Page and Larry Douglas, but…"

Constantin Demiris was no longer listening. In all the pressure of what was happening to him, he had completely forgotten about Catherine. If they found her, and she talked, they could implicate him in the deaths of Noelle and Larry. He had already sent someone to London to take care of her, but now it had suddenly become urgent.

He leaned forward and clutched the attorney’s arm. "I want you to send a message to London immediately."

He read the message twice and felt the beginnings of a sexual stirring that always happened to him before he took care of a contract. It was like playing God. He decided who lived and who died. He was awed by the power he had. But there was a problem. If he had to do this immediately, there would be no time to work out his other plan. He would have to improvise something. Make it look like an accident. Tonight.

Chapter Twenty-nine

Confidential File

Transcript of Session with Wim Vandeen

A: How are you feeling today?

W: Okay. I came here in a taxi. The driver’s name is Ronald Christie. License plate three-oh-two-seven-one taxi certificate number three-oh-seven-oh. On the way here we passed thirty-seven Rovers, a Bentley, ten Jaguars, six Austins, one Rolls-Royce, twenty-seven motorcycles, and six bicycles.

A: How are you getting along at the office, Wim?

W: You know.

A: Tell me.

W: I hate the people there.

A: What about Catherine Alexander?…Wim, what about Catherine Alexander?…Wim?

W: Oh, her. She won’t be working there anymore.

A: What do you mean?

W: She’s going to be murdered.

A: What? Why do you say that?

W: She told me.

A: Catherine told you she’s going to be murdered?

W: The other one.

A: What other one?

W: His wife.

A: Whose wife, Wim?

W: Constantin Demiris.

A: He told you Catherine Alexander was going to be murdered?

W: Mrs. Demiris. His wife. She called me from Greece.

A: Who’s going to murder Catherine?

W: One of the men.

A: You mean one of the men who flew in from Athens?

W: Yes.

A: Wim, we’re going to end this session now. I have to leave.

W: Okay.

Chapter Thirty

The offices of the Hellenic Trade Corporation closed at six o’clock. A few minutes before six, Evelyn and the other employees were preparing to leave.

Evelyn walked into Catherine’s office. "Miracle on 34th Street is playing at the Criterion. It’s had great reviews. Would you like to see it tonight?"

"I can’t," Catherine said. "Thanks, Evelyn. I promised Jerry Haley I’d go to the theater with him."

"They really keep you busy, don’t they? All right. Have a good time."

Catherine heard the sounds of the others leaving. Finally, there was silence. She took a last look at her desk, made sure everything was in order, put on her coat, picked up her purse, and started down the corridor. She had almost reached the front door when the telephone rang. Catherine hesitated, debating whether to answer it. She looked at her watch; she was going to be late. The telephone kept ringing. She ran back to her office and picked up the phone. "Hello."

"Catherine." It was Alan Hamilton. He sounded out of breath. "Thank God I reached you."

"Is something wrong?"

"You’re in great danger. I believe someone is trying to kill you."

She made a low moaning sound. Her worst nightmares were coming true. She felt suddenly dizzy. "Who?"

"I don’t know. But I want you to stay where you are. Don’t leave the office. Don’t talk to anyone. I’m coming to get you."

"Alan, I…"