The Devil Takes Half by Leta Serafim Read Free Book Online Page A

and photographs of Titina, some with her son, but most of her alone, posing on ski slopes or on a beach somewhere. None of Eleni that he could see.
    Titina Argentis opened a set of French doors and stepped out onto the terrace. An old Genovese water wheel, carved out of white marble, dominated the grounds, water cascading from it into the swimming pool at its base. Beyond the pool, the land dropped away, planted with thick groves of lemon and orange trees. A high stone wall enclosed the entire estate, made of the same gold and red limestone as the house. Patronas had the sense he was in a place apart, a place out of time.
    Titina Argentis sat down and motioned for him to do the same. “May I get you something? A lemonade, perhaps? Coffee?”
    â€œ No, nothing, thank you.”
    â€œ But it’s such a hot day. You must take something. How about an orange juice?”
    â€œ Very well then.”
    She turned to her son. “Antonis, would you like one?”
    â€œ I’m all set.” He held up his glass. “I’ve got water.”
    â€œ Chief Officer, have you met my son, Antonis?” She said his name as if it meant something.
    Antonis gave Patronas a lopsided grin. He had a wonderful smile, his teeth even and white, and when he smiled he radiated warmth and a kind of boyish sweetness. Patronas was sure he knew all too well the power of that smile and used it to get what he wanted from others. This one, he has even the milk of the birds . He was nursing whatever it was in his glass. Not water. Vodka or gin.
    The next ten minutes were spent listening to Kyria Argentis instruct the maid on the best way to prepare Patronas’ single glass of orange juice. All quite unnecessary, Patronas concluded after he’d tasted it. It was nothing special. His wife bought the same brand. It came in cartons at the supermarket.
    He set his glass down, took a deep breath, and described the findings at Profitis Ilias. “The priest told me you were up there the day Eleni went missing.”
    Titina Argentis signaled to the maid to put a coaster under Patronas’ glass. “Yes, I dropped off a package for her.” No worry in her voice, no concern for her missing stepdaughter. From an onyx box on the table, she removed a thin cigarette and lit it with a lighter.
    â€œ Where was the package from?”
    â€œ England, I think. Antonis, do you remember?” Her voice was overly formal, stiff, as if she’d had elocution lessons.
    Her son shook his head. In spite of the talk of blood and death, no worry here either.
    â€œ Did you see Eleni that day? Talk to her?”
    â€œ No. She wasn’t there. I left the package on the table at the dig site and walked back to my car.”
    â€œ Did you see her assistant, Petros Athanassiou?”
    â€œ No. No one.”
    â€œ You’re sure?”
    â€œ Yes. I saw the priest briefly when I first arrived. He was the only one.”
    â€œ How did you and your stepdaughter get along?”
    She concentrated on her cigarette, turning the Dunhill lighter over and over in her hand. “Eleni and I didn’t see each other much after her father died. Circumstances kept us apart. I am only here on Chios two months of the year, Chief Officer. Antonis and I spend the winter season in London.”
    â€œ Did Eleni stay here while you were away?”
    â€œ In this house? No. She slept in the guest house or up at Profitis Ilias, that place where she worked.” Titina Argentis conveyed a great deal in the way she said ‘worked,’ as if whatever Eleni had been doing was unseemly, beneath the dignity of her and her son and those people with whom she spent those winter months in London. And the chief officer was sure this attitude applied to all forms of employment, that ‘work’ was somehow demeaning, that she considered the collection of a wage in any form to be embarrassing, even tawdry.
    â€œ Antonis, how did you get