“Hans said the man there was English.” I’m not sure why I say this, and Maria looks confused too, which makes me try to clarify. “The man who killed those people? And threw the head in the swimming pool.”
“The head in the swimming pool?”
Now I’m confused. “The man killed all those people, and then cut the woman’s head off?”
Maria stops now, looking at me closely. “This is what Hans told you?” She shakes her head. “No, no. Nobody got their head cut off.”
I want to know more, but she does too.
“What exactly did he tell you?”
I reply, giving her the story of the man who rampaged around the resort, killing guests and decapitating one woman. Now I have to repeat it, here in the shop, I feel foolish. Even more so as a disapproving frown rises on Maria’s face.
“No. That’s not what happened. Not what happened at all.”She shakes her head again. “It was long before Hans was here, but he clearly has an appetite for a story.” I think she’s not going to continue, but it seems she’s just organising her thoughts.
“It had nothing to do with the swimming pool. And only two people died. Although that’s more than enough to qualify as a tragedy, don’t you think?”
I don’t know. I wait for her to go on.
“The man who died was English, that part is true. And I suppose he must have gone crazy, in some way. Because he was a nice man. A very nice man. Up until he did what he did.”
I wait again.
“What exactly did he do?”
She watches me a moment, and I’m not sure if she’s going to tell me. But then she shrugs, almost lightly.
“He was the manager of the resort, and one night he killed his girlfriend, apparently. She was a lovely girl who also worked there. She was also the mother of his baby.” She shakes her head now. “Then I suppose he couldn’t live with the shame of it, so he took his own life right afterwards. Such a horrible thing. A horrible, horrible thing.” She falls silent, seemingly lost in thought.
“Apparently?” I ask, because the word snags in my mind. She hesitates still.
“That’s what they said. And I suppose they’d know. But there have been rumours over the years, and it never quite seemed to add up to me. That’s forty-four euros please.”
My hand jerks to my bag, I’d nearly forgotten where I was. I find my purse and hand over the notes. While she gets my change I find myself asking another question.
“What was it that didn’t add up?”
She stops what she’s doing and looks at me. I shouldn’t have asked. I was just in a good mood this morning, because I’m going to tackle my apartment. I’m about to apologise for prying, when she starts to reply.
“I suppose it’s the baby. Normally when you read about these things – these murder-suicides that happen from time to time – theman kills the wifeandthe children. But this time he left the baby alive. I always thought that was strange.”
I don’t reply to this, and she seems lost in thought again, her hands still holding my change, but doing nothing to hand it over. I see her eyes go to the newspaper, the headline in Greek about how they’re finally knocking it down.
“The actual owner of the resort was an Englishman too.” Maria seems to come back to life. “He was a nice man as well. He had a house on the island, but his wife refused to stay, after the murder. Then she got ill, back in England, and he wasn’t able to reopen the ADR. He was too busy looking after her. We all thought it was going to reopen, at some point. But it never did. Then when he died a few years back, I think there were issues with the will, and it’s taken that long to get permission to knock it down and start again.” She pulls in a deep breath and finally hands me my change.
“About time. It’s been empty more than twenty years.” She smiles.
I’m about to say something else, when this catches in my mind.
“Twenty years?”
“Mmmm.”
I want to correct her, to tell her that Hans told me it was only ten years since the tragedy, but everything else Hans told me is bullshit. So that makes me pause.
“Are you sure of the date?” I ask instead.
“Oh yes.” She looks at me like I’m the crazy one. “It happened the year my daughter was born. And she’ll be twenty-three next month.”