Last Seen in Santorini


 
 
 
 
 LAST SEEN IN SANTORINI
 Miss Ashford Investigates
 
 
 
 VIVIAN CONROY
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 One More Chapter
 a division of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd
 1 London Bridge Street
 London SE1 9GF
 www.harpercollins.co.uk
 
 
 
 First published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers 2023
 
 
 
 Copyright © Vivian Conroy 2023
 
 
 
 Cover design by Lucy Bennett © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2023
 Cover illustration © Gary Redford / Meiklejohn
 
 
 
 Vivian Conroy asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work
 
 
 
 A catalogue record of this book is available from the British Library
 
 
 
 This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
 
 
 
 All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
 
 
 
 Source ISBN: 9780008549275
 Ebook Edition © January 2023 ISBN: 9780008549268
 Version: 2022-11-07
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Contents
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Chapter 1
 
 
 Chapter 2
 
 
 Chapter 3
 
 
 Chapter 4
 
 
 Chapter 5
 
 
 Chapter 6
 
 
 Chapter 7
 
 
 Chapter 8
 
 
 Chapter 9
 
 
 Chapter 10
 
 
 Chapter 11
 
 
 Chapter 12
 
 
 Chapter 13
 
 
 Chapter 14
 
 
 Chapter 15
 
 
 Chapter 16
 
 
 Chapter 17
 
 
 Chapter 18
 
 
 Chapter 19
 
 
 Chapter 20
 
 
 Chapter 21
 
 
 Chapter 22
 
 
 Chapter 23
 
 
 Chapter 24
 
 
 Chapter 25
 
 
 Chapter 26
 
 
 Chapter 27
 
 
 Chapter 28
 
 
 Chapter 29
 
 
 
 
 Acknowledgments
 
 
 Thank you for reading…
 
 
 About the Author
 
 
 Also by Vivian Conroy
 
 
 One More Chapter...
 
 
 About the Publisher
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Chapter One
 
 AUGUST 1930
 
 
 
 
 Miss Atalanta Ashford couldn’t quite believe she was casting her eye across the laguna of Venice. The water moved in countless shades of blue and green and the sun made everything sparkle: the bright colours of the boats that took tourists across to Murano, the famous glass island; the spires of Venice’s many churches in the distance and closer to her, the lemons in twined baskets on the dock waiting to be transported.
 There was an air of expectancy, with everyone bustling to do some task, make the best use of this beautiful day. New arrivals discussed where to go first: to a workshop or the museum. A man with a hat askew on his rich dark curls carried a large canvas that he wanted to place in the best possible spot to paint the sights. And local women offered flowers and freshly baked sweet treats. From where she stood, Atalanta could smell the butter and sugar worked into them. It seemed as if she was the only one standing still, not pushing to the nearby café to occupy the table with the best laguna view, or going to explore Murano’s first-rate glassware created by true artists with the blowpipe. She was like a statue in the midst of a crowd rushing to and fro, caught in the moment, unable to move away from a sense of disbelief that this could actually be her life now.
 It was so hard to grasp that only a few weeks ago her daily routine had consisted of giving lessons to pupils at an exclusive Swiss boarding school. A strict schedule of teaching French and music, having meals and correcting essays and tests, with barely half an hour to herself to take a little walk down into the picturesque village with its wooden houses and decorated balconies, or further up the mountain to the ruins of the old burg overlooking the lush valley where the river wound its way between the snow-capped mountains.
 It had been her favourite leisure-time activity: to walk and fantasize that she was elsewhere, in some remote, possibly exotic destination, seeing the wonders of the world. She knew the sights only from books and postcards her students sent her during summer holidays. But they had come alive in her imagination: the Parthenon rising above her in white marble columns or the sleepy sunlit villages of the Italian countryside amongst vineyards and olive groves. She had pretended to hear other languages and bitten into her simple bread-and-cheese sandwich lunch as if it were calzone. But with all the mental power in the world, she had never been able to guess that her dreams were about to come true, far beyond what she had imagined.
 All because of her dear grandfather.
 His death had left her with a fortune, houses in various places, cars and stocks, more money than she could ever spend. And a rare vocation: to follow in his footsteps and do his life’s work: sleuth discreetly in the highest circles. Her very first case had taken her to a lush estate in the glorious lavender fields of Provence where a company of rich and famous people had gathered for the wedding of the Comte de Surmonne. The sights had been breath-taking – the whitewashed manor house with sleek turrets, the rich gardens full of roses, dahlias