“About Adrian.” He turned away, running a hand through his hair. He’d relived every detail of his brother’s life with Inspector Green that afternoon, every stupid choice his brother had made. He’d laid everything out. Nothing else had anything to do with Petrov, or Russia, or Greece, but he didn’t want to be taken off guard by a “discovery” again.
Behind him, Saffron asked, “What was it?”
“Adrian …” He let out an impatient breath, resigning himself to an explanation he’d prefer never to give. “Our cousins were born and raised in Kyllini, as I said, and many of our aunts and uncles and distant family members lived there until the Great War. My family supported King Constantine, regardless of his perceived allegiance to Germany, and my cousins did so very vocally. Many of them left Greece when Constantine was removed from the throne during the war. They were not happy that the prime minister, Venizelos, circumvented him to join Greece with the Allies.
“A few of my cousins came here and riled up the Greek community in London. They protested, called on members of Parliament to try to get their support for the king.” He shook his head, his frustration just as acute as it had been when he’d learned what had happened. His father had written to him at the convalescent home he’d been living in at the time, explaining what Adrian had done. “It was stupid. Some of the younger ones went too far and were arrested, including Adrian. He was on leave and they swept him up in their nonsense.”
“He was arrested for protesting?”
“He was arrested for participating in a protest that turned violent,” he said grimly.
“Inspector Green knows he has been arrested before,” Saffron said. “It would have been in his record.”
“For protesting.”
Her brows lifted. “And something else?”
His shoulders slumped. “A number of small, harmless offenses.”
“Such as?”
Through gritted teeth, he said, “Things related to his drinking.”
She dropped her chin to her chest, sighing. “I don’t understand why you bothered to ask me to help at all, if I have to pry every bit of information out of you! What’s the point?”
“I asked you to help Inspector Green solve the case,” he said, “not investigate my brother.”
“Your brother’s past matters here, Alexander. You’re implying Inspector Green suspects Adrian because of his prior involvement inthe”—she waved a hand— “whatever that was with your cousins. Supporting the king of Greece. What does that have to do with anything?”
It was nearly too convoluted for Alexander to explain. “King Constantine and the tsar were first cousins.”
“The tsar, who was ousted during the Russian Revolution, was friendly with King Constantine,” Saffron said slowly, clearly trying to make sense of how that related to Adrian and Petrov. “And your family supported the king. Inspector Green thinks that because Adrian supported the king, he might in turn support what remains of the tsarist Russians? Or he believes that Adrian aligns himself with the Germans since they were on opposing sides?”
“It’s ridiculous,” Alexander ground out, repeating what he’d spent the afternoon explaining to the inspector. The powers and politics of the world had shifted so often in the last five years, it seemed impossible that the police could believe that Adrian, of all people, would risk murder for an allegiance that might change any day.
“I suppose it is ridiculous.”
Silence fell between them, taut and grating. Nothing came to mind to say.
“I’ll be going.”
Alexander swallowed, realizing how rude he’d been to not even offer her a seat. “I’m sorry—”
“Don’t be.” Her voice had a practiced evenness to it that he didn’t like. “I’ll leave you to your thoughts.”
“I don’t want you to leave,” he said, surprised that a large part of him meant it.
“I don’t much see the point in staying here.” Her voice inched higher as she looked to the hallway. “I don’t know why you bothered to ask me to help Adrian. It’s clear you’d rather not tell me a thing other than what I can find out myself, about him or you.”
“I’d rather not lay all my brother’s failings at your feet,” Alexander said before he could think better of it. “I’d rather you not see the worst of him, the worst of my family.”
She swung around to glare at him. “I don’t care if you have a hundred cousins who’ve been arrested, Alexander! That doesn’t haveany bearing on you.” Her blue eyes searched his face. “What I care about is that you are so reluctant to tell me anything about yourself. You’ve told me nothing about your family, your life before the war, and even the things you told me about the war aren’t true!”
Dumbstruck by the accusation, he scrambled for words. “EverythingI’ve told you is true.”
“You told me you were hurt at Fromelles, but not how, or when, or where you convalesced, or for how long!” Alexander opened his mouth, prepared to tell her anything she wanted to hear despite his annoyance at her sudden need to know irrelevant details just then, but then she said, “You didn’t tell me anything about going to Salonika during the war.”
A strange blankness suffused his brain, like the aftereffects of an illuminating grenade’s detonation. The first coherent thought he had was to wonder how she could have possibly known about his visit to Greece. Nick wouldn’t have told her, so she’d found that information somewhere else.
