The afternoon was hot and still with the scent of pine trees on the air. Richard drove the Land Rover slowly along the contour road and pulled up behind Bill Blizzard’s dusty Fiat.
He and Barbara hadn’t spoken much on the short drive from Thunder Bay. They had seen the news report about Zoë at lunchtime and knew that the journalist had been at work. He’d promised Barbara he would cause a stir to raise awareness of their daughter’s disappearance and he’d done exactly that.
They looked strained as they walked up to the front door. Bill Blizzard opened it almost at once and greeted them both with courteous handshakes. He was wearing knee-length khaki shorts and a flowery shirt, but didn’t look as relaxed as his casual clothes might suggest.
The glass sliding doors in the living room had been fully opened and Barbara caught her breath at the expanse of shaded terrace with the infinity pool and sea view beyond.
‘What a lovely place you have here,’ she remarked.
‘Mrs Harding, I’m afraid I was rather rude when you came to see me the other day. I didn’t even let you past the front door.’
‘Don’t worry,’ she smiled. ‘We’re amazed by the coverage you’ve arranged.’
‘It’s brilliant,’ Richard added. ‘Can we talk about it?’
‘Of course, but first would you like some tea?’
He went off to the kitchen leaving Richard and Barbara on the sofa admiring the view.
‘Zoë has been to visit you here, hasn’t she?’ Barbara asked as he returned with a tea tray.
‘Yes, just once, with her friend Selena. Two lovely girls.’
Pouring the tea, he went on, ‘They’re both interested in photography, which happens to be my passion; my life’s work. They spent an hour or two here and we took some photographs together.’
‘Jake, who I believe you’ve met, said you’ve a recent photograph of Zoë.’
‘It’s hanging on my study wall,’ he replied with a curious look at Barbara. ‘I’ll show you after tea.’
‘Oh,’ Barbara was surprised. ‘Jake’s been here too?’
‘Didn’t he mention it?’
‘Why, no, he said he’d been speaking to you last evening, that’s why he was late home. But I just assumed it had been at the taverna.’
‘I must confess to spending a lot of time there.’
‘I hope he didn’t disturb you,’ Richard said, his brow furrowed.
‘No, it was more me disturbing him.’
‘Sorry?’
‘We had a frank discussion. I hope I didn’t disturb him in what I said.’
‘He wasn’t rude at all, I hope,’ Barbara said.
‘No, he’s a fine lad, plenty of spark in him. Both your children are a real credit to you.’
‘Thank you,’ Richard said sounding relieved. ‘Jake said you thought the monastery might have something to do with this.’
Bill Blizzard sipped his tea before answering. ‘Nothing definite, just a hunch, but worth keeping an eye skinned.’
‘Okay,’ Richard said slowly. ‘We’ll do that.’
‘Ask Jake to come and see me again,’ Bill Blizzard said. ‘He’s doing a sleuthing job, you know. I think that young man is more likely to find her than the police are. I might have some ideas for him.’
Jake’s mum and dad exchanged mystified glances as Bill Blizzard pulled a small diary out of his shirt pocket and turned the pages.
‘Anything you can share with us?’ Richard asked.
‘Not tomorrow,’ Bill said as if he hadn’t heard the question. ‘I’ll be going into town to see one or two people about publicity for Zoë. Ask him to come on Tuesday afternoon.’
‘I’ll tell him,’ Barbara said. ‘And thank you for your continuing efforts.’
‘Not all done yet. I’ve made a call to some TV people I know – that’s who I’m seeing tomorrow. I want them to come out here so you can do an appeal to camera.’
‘That would be wonderful,’ Barbara said. ‘Just tell us what time and we’ll do it.’
‘I’ll fix it for Tuesday morning, at your place if that’s okay?’
‘Yes, perfect.’
‘Now, Bill, if I may call you that,’ Richard said. ‘About the article and the reward mentioned…’
Bill looked at him enquiringly and Barbara wondered if there was a trace of a smile on the old man’s lips.
‘The article says there’s a reward for her safe return,’ she said. ‘How… I mean…’
‘It might just produce results, you never know.’
‘It’s quite a lot of money…’ Richard ventured.
‘Yes, a lot of money for people who have nothing,’ the journalist agreed.
‘People with nothing?’ Barbara said. ‘At the monastery?’
Bill opened his palms and gave a slow shrug. ‘The monks have nothing, the local people, the Zengounistas I call them, have very little. If they know something this will bring it out.’
‘But ten thousand Euros, that is a significant sum.’
‘I think Zoë is worth every cent,’ Bill Blizzard said, putting down his teacup.
‘We all desperately want her back,’ Richard said. ‘That’s one cheque I won’t mind writing.’
There was a moment of silence. ‘Dear Mr Harding, you don’t understand; I’m offering the money. I feel it’s the least I can do.’
