Chapter 8: Police Investigations

There was plenty of activity down at the site the following morning but it wasn't of the archaeological kind. The island's one police car sat in the valley, its blue lights flashing. One of the island's two police man stalked around peering into the cabin and talking to the girls. Freddie watched from the terrace of his villa. He knew that Petros would be up to talk to him soon enough.

It was just before midday when the policeman that Freddie had watched in the valley arrived at Freddie's door. His colleague had come along too. Clegg invited them in. "Kalimera, Petros," he smiled. "Have you got problems down at the site?"

"Indeed, Freddie, indeed," Petros responded taking off his hat.

"Would you like something to drink?" said Clegg walking out to the terrace with the policemen.

Petros's colleague shook his head. "Just a coke," Petros answered, "I think I may be getting some 'help' from the mainland. You know how it is."

"Of course." Freddie picked a can from the fridge and passed it to him. "What's happened?"

"Not nice," Petros said, "not here on Agoras. OK maybe sometimes we have some drunk tourists, maybe sometimes pickpockets, but not like this. Someone broke into their hut. Attacked one of the girls."

"Attacked? Is she all right? Which of them was it?"

"Miss Judy Fisher. Yes, she is all right but shocked of course. A burglar. Tied her up. Left her there. She could not get free. The others found her this morning when they came to start digging."

"Appalling. It's unusual here? Something like that? I've never heard of anything like it."

"You're right. Did you hear anything? Last night? About eight o'clock maybe?"

"No, I don't think so. I was here all evening but, no, I don't think I did."

"That's OK. I didn't think you would. It was only one man. With a car, I think. But it's all right. I know who did it."

"Really."

"Sure. This is not Greek. Over behind the Dimetrios Apartments - there's some Albanians staying. The car came from Dimetrios, I'm sure. There's a scrape of paint on the gate post of the site. There's not so many cars on this island Freddie with that pale green colour. I'll find that one of them has a scratch I'm sure. This has Albanians written all over it. My friends on the mainland agree."

"But they are still coming to see?"

"Oh yes. I think they like the idea of a trip out here for a day. They may want to talk to you. Seeing as how you're right here."

"Of course. I'd be happy to."

"On the other hand maybe they'll just pick the Albanians up."

"Did they take much?"

"No, just a video camera. That's all there was of value in the hut. They must have thought the archaeologists had dug up something more interesting that pottery."

"And Judy's all right?" Freddie asked.

"Yes," he nodded. "A bit sore but that's all."

"Well," said Freddie, "I'll go down to the site and see if there's anything I can do to help. It's a shocking business."

"Yes, and it's going to mean too many forms to fill in too!" Petros got to his feet, bid Freddie farewell and grunted at his colleague to follow.

Freddie made his way down to the site at the end of the afternoon. All the girls except Judy were busy, working away in the trenches. Clegg waved to Bethany. "I heard about your problem. Is Judy OK?"

Bethany put down her trowel, pushed back a strand of hair and stood up. "Yes. She had a nasty fright but she's all right. She's resting up — she was trussed up on the floor of the hut all night."

"Dreadful. Did they take much?"

"No, just the video camera. That's all there was really. There was some footage in it but nothing we can't re-shoot. They turned over some of the finds trays but none of it was really important stuff, luckily. Stupid people. They must have thought there were artefacts of some value, I guess."

"Like you say, stupid," Freddie responded. "Well, I hope Judy feels OK soon. Give her my best wishes. Petros should get it sorted out. They don't get much crime here but he's bright, he knows his stuff."

"Yes," Bethany said, "I thought that. He seemed to think he had a lead. A paint scrape on the gatepost."

"So he said," Clegg replied, thinking that he was pleased Petros had spotted it. He had taken a great deal of care to leave it there. "How's the digging going?"

"A bit slower without Judy here," Bethany said ruefully. "But we are starting to get down onto the Mycenaean levels. A few nice pieces of pottery. Look." She reached across to the finds tray, pulled out a pale shard of pottery with a dark lined design and passed it to him. "This is typical stuff for round about 1200 BC."

"As old as that? Over three thousand years!" Freddie was impressed. He put it back in the finds tray carefully. "Well, I'll let you get on. Let me know if I can do anything."

"Thanks," said Bethany, "that's kind."