I laughed and shook my head. “It’s a long story. I need a drink first.”
Lonnie signaled to Kevin, who sauntered over. “What’ll you have?”
“One of those.” I pointed at Lonnie’s half empty glass of Cyprus brandy sour. “Looks yummy.”
“Make it two, Kevin. What’ll you guys have?” Lonnie asked Yannis and Zach.
“Commandaria for me,” Yannis said.
“I’ll have a Keo beer,” said Zach.
Lonnie and Yannis were old friends, and they punched each other in greeting. I introduced Zach, who shook hands with a half smile. He hooked his fingers on his hips, his eyes slipping from me to Yannis to Lonnie, possibly trying to figure out the relationships. I had a big collection of male friends, but this wasn’t the time for explanations.
“Hey, let’s sit down at a table,” Lonnie said.
I sat down on a scarred straight-back chair at one of the unsteady round tables on the street. Zach slid into the chair beside me and pulled it closer. Lonnie parked himself on the other side. Yannis frowned his annoyance at the two of them and sat across from me. The drinks arrived while we chit-chatted and exchanged pleasantries.
“Claudie, my good woman, to what do we owe the pleasure of this visit?” Lonnie asked, getting back to his original question.
“Mind if I ask you a question first?” I sipped the brandy sour, savoring the pungent sweet taste on my tongue.
“Fire away.”
“Do you know three widows that are on the island by the names of Crawford, Kelly and Ryan? English, wealthy.”
“As a matter of fact, they were on my tour today,” Lonnie said. “Lively group. Besides the widows, we had a few Scandinavians and the American couple who travel with that archaeological group working on the Forty Column Castle project. They wanted to do the Troodos Mountains from a different angle. Had a helleva day. Great company.”
“How well do you know the widows?”
He shrugged. “Can’t say we are bosom buddies, but they’re regulars on my tours when they’re in the country. They’ve been coming for several years. Your aunt was with them while she was here. She’s left, hasn’t she? She didn’t mention you were coming over.” Lonnie bent closer and in a loud whisper said, “Why all the questions?”
I explained, and Lonnie’s smile faded as I told the story.
“I know there’s been trouble,” he said. “I hear it in the gossip. But your aunt? A smuggler? Wild, pretty wild. Do you think she’s in this ring?”
“Of course not. Lonnie how could you even ask that question?”
Zach broke in. “Why would you ask that, Lonnie? Don’t you know Elizabeth Davies pretty well?”
Lonnie pushed back on his chair, balancing on two legs, working on his drink at the same time. “I’ve been in the people business for a long time, and some people surprise you. Remember that Brit, Ron Hanley, that use to hang out here on Sunday evenings?” He directed the question to Yannis, who nodded.
“Real friendly, outgoing guy. Said he was a writer, but no one could ever figure how the guy supported himself. Turned out he was working for the Irish Republican Army laundering guns through the Middle East. He disappeared one day, and we never saw him again.”
“People say that you’re a CIA agent,” I said.
He laughed. “Yeah, I know. I’d never tell if I was, now would I? So y’all will have to go on speculating.”
“We all could have double lives,” I said. “But my aunt? For heaven’s sake, be realistic. What does your gut instinct tell you?”
“My gut instinct told me Ron Hanley was a regular guy. I mean, he was a friend, and bingo, one day he’s gone. My instincts let me down. Some people are good actors. Of course, your aunt doesn’t seem the type. But what does she do when you aren’t around?”
I swizzled my drink, not meeting Lonnie’s eyes, trying not to take offense at the question. I could feel Zach’s eyes on me, and then he said in his soft drawl, “What about Robert Hanssen, the FBI agent that was arrested for passing secrets to the Soviets? He was everybody’s next door neighbor. Lonnie’s right, Claudie. Appearances can be deceiving.”
I stopped stirring my drink. “My aunt is innocent.” I enunciated each word carefully. I did not want to hear about people with double identities. This conversation was going in a direction I did not want it to go.
“Look,” I said, taking a deep breath to calm the quaver I heard in my voice. I didn’t want to sound like I was falling apart. “I lived in the same house with my aunt in Boston until I went out on my own after college. I knew her daily routine. Up at six A.M., bath, have a cup of coffee, listen to the Today Show while she dressed, off to her job at the library where she had worked for thirty years. She never married, never had a serious beau. I knew her friends, some of them men. I wasn’t with her every waking moment, but she always liked to chat about her day and, if she went out, about the people she was with, what she had done. We shared secrets. This is not the kind of person with a double identity.”
The three of them kept their eyes on me while I talked, like they wanted to believe me. But I knew in the back of their minds lingered that niggling doubt, the idea that double identities led very ordinary lives on the surface. Did my aunt have another life under her very ordinary surface? The doubt was in my mind. I had to get to the bottom of this.
“If I have to get her out of this all by myself, I will.” I spoke it like a dare, and my bravado created a huge, uncomfortable silence. I didn’t care. I didn’t need their doubts. I needed their help.
Finally, Yannis, the diplomat, spoke up to smooth the waters. “Of course, your aunt is innocent, Claudie. We are just asking the tough questions that need to be asked.”
“Let me throw another stick on the fire,” said Zach. “Lonnie, do you know anyone who drives a beat up blue Maruti? It looks like an American Jeep. This one had no top, medium blue color, bad paint job. Today at the beach up on the cliff a guy was standing by a Maruti with binoculars trained on us.”
Zach and Yannis had seen the Maruti, too, and we had talked about it on the way to the California Bar. None of us had recognized the vehicle, and by the time we had finished our swim the Maruti was gone. It seemed odd to all three of us and maybe more than a coincidence that we were at that beach and the Maruti was, too.
“A beat up Maruti? asked Lonnie. “The American couple from the archeological project drives a blue Maruti this trip. They said they rented it.”
Zach sat up straighter. “Did they say where they rented it?”
“Probably the place out along Tomb of Kings road. That’s closest to where they stay.”
“Thanks,” said Zach, and he looked at me. “We’ll pay that place a visit.”
“It would be worth a try,” I said. “I want to talk to the widows, and I’d like to talk to their landlord to see what he knows about them. Can we do this tonight because tomorrow morning at nine I have to get my aunt out of jail?”
“I’ll go by to see the landlord,” Yannis said. “He doesn’t speak English well, so it’s best if I go.”
“Since the car rental place is probably closed for the evening, I’ll visit the widows again,” I said.
Zach held up his hand. “I think going alone might be dangerous, if these ladies are mixed up in something.”
“Wait,” Lonnie said, “I could pay the widows a visit since I know them the best, and I wouldn’t be like a total stranger calling. I’ll try to find out who they were socializing with when they weren’t on tour. I’ll pretend like I’m checking to see if they want to go on a special tour this week. Mrs. Crawford’s been flirting with me, so I’m sure she’d invite me in for a drink.”