have seen in Tudor times I'm sure. Inside the house is tidy. Nothing seems out of place. The sun is shining into the house and making rainbow patterns through the cut glass chandeliers that Helen has installed. Lucy and I give up on the front door and wander around to the other side of the house. Pretty much the whole of this floor level aspect is glass. Excessive glazing combined with wooden beams on the first floor are an unusual combination. The window frame is a minimal design so as not to interrupt the view from inside. I try the handle on the sliding door, but it doesn't move.
"I'm not sure we are going to get inside," I say to Lucy. "Anyway, from out here it looks as though everything is in order. Certainly no sign of a struggle or anything like that."
"But unless we can get inside we are not going to know where Helen is, and that was the whole point of coming up here, wasn't it?"
I turn around to face the sea view and to think. In front of me is a patio and the regulation infinity pool. Above me is a balcony that presumably also acts as a sunshade for downstairs. Very necessary for the heat of the summer. I move to my right to take a look. It is indeed a balcony, more the size of a terrace really. "OK, if you want to get inside, I think I probably can," I say. "But I don't want there to be any comeback. I don't fancy being banged up in a Greek jail for breaking and entering."
"Helen's my friend, I'm worried about her. It's not as though we are going to do any damage or steal anything. So please, if you can get us in, then do. I'll explain if necessary."
Lucy does speak excellent Greek and the chances of a police patrol passing by seems slight. At this time of day, the island's policemen will both be sitting in some Taverna somewhere enjoying the owner's hospitality.
"OK. I'll give it a go," I say. "No promises though."
I don't know if Lucy is pausing to consider why I am familiar with breaking into houses, but she doesn't let on if she is.
"Help me push the table over here can you Lucy?"
Once the heavy wooden table is in place, I put one of the chairs up on top of it. It leaves a slight scratch as I move it into position. Shit. I climb up onto the table and do a Greek style dance for Lucy's amusement, before climbing up onto the chair and pulling myself up over the railings of the balcony.
"It's an even better view from up here," I call.
Lucy shows no sign of intending to join me. She's sat down on one of the other chairs which she has pulled next to the swimming pool. I take a split second to look out seaward. The afternoon wind has whipped up the sea so that it is covered with bright white crests backlit by the sun. Twenty or thirty yachts are taking advantage of the perfect conditions. There is an all-weather sofa up here, presumably for enjoying the evenings away from any house guests. There's also another wooden table and chairs, smaller than the one below. I move past the furniture towards the patio door. In my experience it is amazing how many times otherwise careful homeowners forget to lock their upstairs windows and doors. I feel the bulge in my trouser pocket. I've got my trusty little tool with me in case Helen is one of the few who do remember. As it happens, I don't need to break and enter. The door slides open. I'm in. The bedroom is very pink and fluffy. Cushions everywhere, piled high on the bed that has been neatly made since it was last used. There are photographs in frames and plenty of knick-knacks. Reminders of past holidays and the like. This bedroom is not to my taste, but it takes all sorts to make a world and I suspect my bijou floating bedroom would not be to Helen's taste. There's a curious smell in the room too. I'm guessing essential oils.
"Are you in?" I hear Lucy calling from below.
"I am," I shout. "I'll come down and let you in."
The house has a rather nice open staircase in its centre. Downstairs is open plan. There's a kitchen area to the left and a table for dining to the right. Towards the patio window, through which I can see Lucy peering with her hand shading the reflection, is the seating area. A modern L shaped settee with a glass and chrome coffee table in front. The settee points not towards the view, or even the wood burning stove on the far wall, as I would have expected, but in the direction of the largest TV I think I've ever seen. I imagine Helen sitting here watching EastEnders or Emmerdale. No, definitely she's more EastEnders.
"Hurry up," Lucy calls. I smile at her through the window. As I do so I move towards the sofa and sit down. I pick up the remote control and peer at it closely. I lean back as if I've found something interesting to watch.
"You can be a total prick, you know that don't you?" Lucy's voice is muffled through the glass.
I'd better let her in. I think I've wound her up enough today. "OK, I'm coming. Where's your sense of humour?"
"This is serious. It's not a TV show, it's real," she replies.
She's getting herself worked up now. For the first time I'm aware of a distant bleeping noise coming from the back of the room. Somewhere near the front door. Sounds like a microwave finishing its cooking period but it isn't stopping. What was it that Terry said earlier? Something about Helen having an all singing, all dancing super-duper alarm system. Shit. I leap up throwing down the remote control and in two strides I am at the patio door. I unlock it, and throw it open in one move.
"About bloody time, I thought you'd moved in."
"Lucy," I say, "I think we may have a small problem."
All hell breaks loose.
Chapter Six
The siren is deafening. They must be able to hear this over in my old stamping ground at Nidri, five miles away at least. I had to move on from there after a particularly colourful drinking session, but that's another story. All the house lights are flashing on and off, but worse than that metal grilles have appeared from above the exterior doors and windows and are closing. We will be locked in shortly, presumably to await the arrival of some private security company or other. Perhaps she employs the same people as the Russian owner of the nearby Skorpios island, all machine guns and black berets. Maybe they will arrive by helicopter. I must try and keep my paranoia in check.
"I knew this was a bad idea," I shout at Lucy, "Any more bright ideas?"
It's probably a bit unfair on her but I'm not feeling very fair just now. Lucy though is looking supremely relaxed. I'm surprised because I would have her down as one of life's worriers.
"I do, as it happens," she says.
"Well, please be my guest anytime now. I'll just sit and watch this mutant TV whilst you plan our escape."
Lucy pulls her top of the range smartphone out of her bag. It makes mine look as though it was something Mr Bell might have built personally.
"Phoning a friend?" I shout.
"Sorry?"
"Who wants to be a millionaire?" I add.
"I've no idea what you're talking about," she replies. She's not giving me her full attention. "I'm looking for the code."
"You what? You've got the bloody code?"
"I have," she replies, "somewhere here. You can never find something when you need it can you?"
"What? The code to turn off the alarm? You might have mentioned that a bit earlier. I could have switched it off before all this."
I extend my arms to emphasise the point.
