Matthew Hopkins, the Witchfinder General, used to take the local girls to make them confess.” She raised one eyebrow suggestively.
Sean laughed politely, wondering if this was a demonstration of how she got her staff onside or whether the vaguely flirtatious, familiar manner was just for him.
“Here we are.” She stopped outside one of the townhouses, and Sean saw that it had been converted into a restaurant. A cream sign hung over the door, black letters spelling out the name:
Paphos
.
“A Greek,” noted Sean.
“The best in town,” Francesca replied. “There’s quite a lot of Cypriots in Ernemouth.”
Before they had got to the top of the steps to the door, a man had opened it for them. Tall and muscular, with thick, jet-black hair and a wide smile that revealed perfectly straight white teeth, he was almost film-star handsome.
“
Kalespera
, Francesca,” he said, taking her hand and making a little bow. “A pleasure as always. And you, sir,” he added, “of course.”
“Did you …?” she began.
“Yes, Achillias said. This way, please.” He swept them past the reception desk and up a staircase, into an empty dining room that had been redecorated in keeping with its original design: mahogany floorboards, duck-egg blue walls, heavy drapes at the window and tables set with crisp linen and silver candelabras. “I put you here,” he pulled out a chair from the table set in the bay window, overlooking the square. “We’ve kept the bookings downstairs until nine.”
“Thanks, Keri,” she said, touching his arm the way she had done with Sean earlier. “I appreciate it.”
Keri looked at her with the same level of admiration Sean had observed in her staff. He took their coats, leaving them with the menus and wine list. Sean felt a stab of hunger.
“Do you want some wine?” Francesca asked him over the top of her menu.
“Sure,” said Sean. “I’ll go a glass of red.”
“Might as well make it a bottle,” Francesca spoke like a true veteran. “Don’t worry, this is on my expenses. Keri, can you get us a bottle of red and some mezze?”
She paused as the waiter departed, then turned back to Sean. “So what was it that you wanted to discuss with me?”
Her turquoise eyes were sharp. Sean leaned back in his seat, tried to appear relaxed. “I’ve never worked a case like this before,” he told her. “Never been to this part of the world either. You can read old reports as much as you like, but it doesn’t give you a feel for the place. That’s what I’m hoping for. A little local insight.”
“I see,” she said.
“Like,” he went on, “can I expect the same kind of welcome that I got from your secretary from everyone in Ernemouth?”
“Probably,” she nodded. “Pat’s a very good introduction to this town, as it goes. You won’t get a squeak out of her yourself, but once she gets home, the phonelines will be burning about the strange man who came into the office today. That’s why I didn’t want them to know what your business is. I mean, she
will
find out. First rule of Ernemouth – walls have eyes and ears around here. I just wanted to give you a head start.”
Sean nodded. “Makes sense,” he allowed. “So what are you going to tell them?”
“That you’re an old friend down from London. Let them make of that what they will. Hopefully they’ll get distracted by their own idle gossip into thinking you’re something you’re not.” She raised her eyebrows, looked over his shoulder.
“Ah,” she said. “Good. Here come our starters.”
Sean studied her as Keri arranged the bowls of dips, olives, pastries and pitta on the table, poured their drinks and then smilingly departed. He realised that she had chosen the seat that had the only clear view of the whole room. Walls have eyes, indeed.
“So,” he prompted, reaching for the bread. “How long have you been here?”
“I’ve worked for the
Mercury
just over three years,” she said, spooning hummus
Sean laughed politely, wondering if this was a demonstration of how she got her staff onside or whether the vaguely flirtatious, familiar manner was just for him.
“Here we are.” She stopped outside one of the townhouses, and Sean saw that it had been converted into a restaurant. A cream sign hung over the door, black letters spelling out the name:
Paphos
.
“A Greek,” noted Sean.
“The best in town,” Francesca replied. “There’s quite a lot of Cypriots in Ernemouth.”
Before they had got to the top of the steps to the door, a man had opened it for them. Tall and muscular, with thick, jet-black hair and a wide smile that revealed perfectly straight white teeth, he was almost film-star handsome.
“
Kalespera
, Francesca,” he said, taking her hand and making a little bow. “A pleasure as always. And you, sir,” he added, “of course.”
“Did you …?” she began.
“Yes, Achillias said. This way, please.” He swept them past the reception desk and up a staircase, into an empty dining room that had been redecorated in keeping with its original design: mahogany floorboards, duck-egg blue walls, heavy drapes at the window and tables set with crisp linen and silver candelabras. “I put you here,” he pulled out a chair from the table set in the bay window, overlooking the square. “We’ve kept the bookings downstairs until nine.”
“Thanks, Keri,” she said, touching his arm the way she had done with Sean earlier. “I appreciate it.”
Keri looked at her with the same level of admiration Sean had observed in her staff. He took their coats, leaving them with the menus and wine list. Sean felt a stab of hunger.
“Do you want some wine?” Francesca asked him over the top of her menu.
“Sure,” said Sean. “I’ll go a glass of red.”
“Might as well make it a bottle,” Francesca spoke like a true veteran. “Don’t worry, this is on my expenses. Keri, can you get us a bottle of red and some mezze?”
She paused as the waiter departed, then turned back to Sean. “So what was it that you wanted to discuss with me?”
Her turquoise eyes were sharp. Sean leaned back in his seat, tried to appear relaxed. “I’ve never worked a case like this before,” he told her. “Never been to this part of the world either. You can read old reports as much as you like, but it doesn’t give you a feel for the place. That’s what I’m hoping for. A little local insight.”
“I see,” she said.
“Like,” he went on, “can I expect the same kind of welcome that I got from your secretary from everyone in Ernemouth?”
“Probably,” she nodded. “Pat’s a very good introduction to this town, as it goes. You won’t get a squeak out of her yourself, but once she gets home, the phonelines will be burning about the strange man who came into the office today. That’s why I didn’t want them to know what your business is. I mean, she
will
find out. First rule of Ernemouth – walls have eyes and ears around here. I just wanted to give you a head start.”
Sean nodded. “Makes sense,” he allowed. “So what are you going to tell them?”
“That you’re an old friend down from London. Let them make of that what they will. Hopefully they’ll get distracted by their own idle gossip into thinking you’re something you’re not.” She raised her eyebrows, looked over his shoulder.
“Ah,” she said. “Good. Here come our starters.”
Sean studied her as Keri arranged the bowls of dips, olives, pastries and pitta on the table, poured their drinks and then smilingly departed. He realised that she had chosen the seat that had the only clear view of the whole room. Walls have eyes, indeed.
“So,” he prompted, reaching for the bread. “How long have you been here?”
“I’ve worked for the
Mercury
just over three years,” she said, spooning hummus
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