Fire on the Island

by Timothy Jay Smith

  “He drowned us both when he drowned himself.”

  She turned the nozzle on her neck, letting the petrol run down her body.

  “No!” Takis cried, and ran toward her.

  She splashed him and he backed off.

  “You haven’t done anything serious yet,” Nick tried to reason with her. “You haven’t hurt anyone, but if you do this, you’re going to kill a lot of people.”

  “I wish I could shut the shutters on the whole village and kill everyone!”

  “Shut the shutters?” Takis asked. “You shut the shutters?”

  “Who do you think did? That bitch wouldn’t have gotten out of bed. She’s the one I wanted to kill. Always trying to get Omar deported. Father walking in with a cigarette was a bonus.”

  “I thought he shut them.”

  “To kill her?”

  “To kill himself. I only said that I closed them so people wouldn’t think he had committed suicide.”

  “Suicide? He didn’t have the courage.”

  Vassoula flicked the lighter and touched it to her blouse. Flames shot up from her waist.

  Nick had braced himself for that moment. It didn’t matter if she dropped the lighter; it would go out the instant she let go of it. He expected her to set herself afire, and knew he had only seconds before she collapsed into the gasoline soaking her feet, igniting the jerrycan as well. It would be enough to blow up the tank.

  He charged her, knocking her clear of the pooled gasoline, and rolled with her on the ground. When the flames were out, he ended up on top of her. She was unconscious but alive. He looked over his shoulder at the looming fuel tank and bowed his head with a relieved sigh.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  SHIRLEY DIDN’T HAVE TO RECALL the sound of blue plastic bags twirling in the wind for a bit of erotic pleasure that morning. It had been Lukas’s turn to awaken with such notions, though not frisky enough that the earth should have moved when it did. It didn’t stop shaking, and her husband, moving rather vigorously himself, didn’t notice. Finally she whispered, “Lukas.”

  “What?”

  “I think we’re having an earthquake.”

  He stopped. “An earthquake? Why are you telling me that now?”

  “Because it’s happening now.”

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “Well, I suppose finish unless the roof caves in.”

  Lukas rolled onto his back. “Good God, woman! How can you expect a man to finish after interrupting him like that!”

  The ground continued to tremble.

  “That’s a long earthquake,” he said.

  Shirley suggested, “Maybe we should crawl under the bed.”

  They heard grinding engines and people shouting.

  “What the dickens is going on?”

  Lukas slipped out of bed. “I’ll go see.”

  She balled up his briefs and tossed them at his back. “You better wear something more than your bare ass.”

  He pulled on his pants and went outside.

  Shirley could hear him talking, but couldn’t make out what was being said because of the noisy engines. What in the dickens was going on? Wrapping herself in a bathrobe, she went to look out the window. A dozen men, driving tractors and a backhoe, had made their way up the short hill to their house.

  Lukas appeared in the doorway, smiling for the first time in days. “It will make you very happy.”

  The men set about digging out the stumps of the four beauties. They attacked the first one with axes and the backhoe, chained it to the tractors, and inch by inch urged its roots to let go. Shirley made pot after pot of coffee and toasted up all the bread she had. She sent Lukas off to get more of everything, and he was back in five minutes, tagging after a caravan of cars with Lydia in the lead. The village women arrived provisioned to make the day a celebration. Ridi set up tables for their casseroles and salads before stripping off his shirt to join the men.

  Shirley set about unpacking a case of wine.

  “That’s not all for you,” Lydia reminded her mother.

  Shirley glared at her. “It’s too early for me to drink.”

  “By how many minutes?”

  A cheer went up as the first stump gave up with an agonizing groan with Nick, the mayor, and Captain Tsounis looking on coast guards.

  “In the end, we’re lucky that Azarov stole the painting,” the captain remarked. “Otherwise, it would have burned in the fire.”

  “Unless the priest had already made the switch, and so the Russian saved the forgery,” Nick pointed out.

  “Fortunately, whichever one Athina threw into the water was retrieved almost immediately,” the mayor told them. “It wasn’t in the water long enough to harm it, only give it a good bath.”

  “Probably can’t say the same for the Russian’s friend,” Captain Tsounis said. “He has to be fish food by now.”

  Once Vassoula had been whisked off in an ambulance, Nick realized that the Birch Runner had weighed anchor and disappeared into the night. He alerted the Coast Guardsman, who sent his crew in hot pursuit. The Russian protested his arrest in international waters, when in fact the channel between Greece and Turkey was too narrow for there to be an international inch. The pinballer wasn’t onboard but the Crowned Madonna was.

  “They both left on the same boat and there was no place where the kid could have disembarked,” Captain Tsounis explained. “We’ll press murder charges with or without a body assuming we can ID the victim.”

  “We can help on that,” Nick said, meaning the FBI. “We have lots of connections in Russia. But what I’m wondering, are the icons that supposedly burned in Father Alexis’s last church actually in Azarov’s collection in Saint Petersburg?”

  “The priest burned down another church?” Mayor Elefteros asked.

  “We don’t know that he burned down this one,” Nick replied. “We only know that it burned down. His last church as well. It was declared an accident, but now, I’ll request that the investigation be reopened. I’m stationed in Athens, so it’s largely my call.”

  “How badly is she burned?” the captain wanted to know.

  “I understand, badly. Especially her face.”

  “She’ll want to die. I guess I really missed it on that Takis kid. It wasn’t him, it was his sister.”

  “It’s easy to miss something when somebody confesses to what they didn’t do.”

  “Why’d she want to do all this? Because of Omar?”

  “I haven’t talked to her, and you know her better than me, but my guess is, she blames the village for what happened to Omar, but not just Omar. His family, too, going all the way back. They were cast out of here and he was an outcast coming back. What happened to him wouldn’t have happened if he were Greek.”

  “It might have,” the mayor spoke up, “if they suspected he was a homosexual.”

  “From what I’ve been told, some things were said about that, but it was his accent that bothered them. They knew he was Turkish.”

  “When Takis left for Melbourne, to me it felt like he was running away.

  “He was, only not from what you thought.”

  “Then the fires started when he came back,” Captain Tsounis continued. “I misled you on the Turk’s name, too, didn’t I? Omar Ozturk’s name, that is, when I told you Ozturk was like Smith.”

  “You didn’t mislead me. It is like Smith. I misled myself by not following up, because I had already misled myself thinking Efendi was a name. Besides, what relevance could names really have from a hundred years ago?” Nicked shrugged. “It was my mistake, too, because I dismissed a clue.”

  “Now I have a new problem,” the mayor spoke up. “I have a budget and nothing to spend it on. The bell tower does not need to be repaired, it needs to be entirely rebuilt, which shall be the Church’s problem, and I’ll make sure this time it’s built on its own damn property. And the fuel tank is no longer threatened, so there’s no reason to move it. Suddenly, we have a surplus!”


  “Don’t say that too loudly,” the captain warned him. “Athens will make sure that it doesn’t happen twice.”

  Another cheer went up.

  With a wrenching sound, the second stump let go.

  “And you said yes?” Lydia asked her daughter.

  “I sort of did. He asked me to marry him in such a sweet way that I told him I loved him, too. We’ve been sending hearts back and forth.”

  “I thought so.”

  “Why do you ask me when you already know?”

  “Because what if I don’t know? Anyway, you never said yes. Saying you love somebody doesn’t mean you have to marry him.”

  “But I want to marry Ridi.”

  “Honey, you’re too young.”

  “Why? Because he’s more decent than any boy in this village? And smarter and harder working?”

  “And outside the village?”

  “Can you promise I’ll find someone better?”

  “I want more for you.”

  “What? And where? In Athens? What can I do in Athens except be a waitress? So why leave here in the first place? If you think I need something more, that’s for your satisfaction, not mine.”

  Lydia sighed; it was a losing battle. “You said he wants to take over my restaurant?”

  “I said he has ideas for it, but that was before everything else happened. Now he’s eyeing Vassoula’s place. It has indoor space.”

  “So he’s off my place?”

  “It’s an option. Maybe for expansion in the summer.”

  “And the goat shed?”

  A cry went up.

  The third beauty had let go its hold on the earth.

  Nick and Takis, glad to see the third stump dragged away, found a bit of shade. For an early November day, it was warm, and they’d built up a sweat. Takis wiped his brow with a bandana and handed it to Nick.

  “Thanks,” he said, using it, and gave it back.

  “So how do you figure Koufos having a detonator?” Takis asked. “Was he helping Vassoula?”

  “I think he found a dud or maybe extinguished one. Doing his charades, he imitated someone lighting cigarettes—now we know it was your sister—and I’d sensed it was a woman. A little bit; I won’t say definitely. He’d probably watched her and put it out as soon as she left. She went back a second time and that’s why eventually there was a fire on that property. She had her spots mapped out. You never suspected her?”

  “Whenever she wasn’t around, I assumed she was screwing the Coast Guard guy, and the fires never amounted to much. Sometimes they got reported a couple of days later. Somebody would come into the station asking if we knew about a fire someplace we never knew about. They had never spread. But I have an important question.”

  “What’s that?” Nick asked.

  “Are you sure you can’t stay longer? Not even one extra day?”

  He shook his head. “Two boats capsized off Libya yesterday. That’s two hundred dead before they start counting. The EU’s called an emergency summit.”

  “It sounds like you’re important.”

  “Not me, but this week two hundred dead refugees are.”

  “Before they start counting.”

  “This time they can’t be ignored. So, are you still headed Down Under in sixteen days?”

  “Now you’re counting!”

  “In minutes until we have to say goodbye. I’ll drive you to the airport if you come to Athens a few days early.”

  “Would a week be too long?”

  “You could squeeze two weeks into sixteen days.”

  “You can’t imagine the complications I’m going to have here. I’ll be lucky to have two days.”

  “Do you want me to call the airlines to extend your ticket by a month?”

  “Can you do that?”

  “I’d be willing to try. You’re a witness in a case.”

  “I might end up wanting to stay longer.”

  “I won’t let you.”

  “Why not?”

  “You belong in Melbourne.”

  “Maybe I’ve changed my mind.”

  “I know you haven’t changed your mind about living in Athens, and I don’t want you to change your mind because of me.”

  “Why not?”

  “I’m an older guy.”

  “You only have twelve years on me.”

  “Only? That’s a change of tune. Sorry, but you’re stuck with Melbourne. I assume you’re closing your sister’s bar.”

  “I told Ridi he can have it for the rent. He’s keen on a place of his own, and it’s not worth anything to me. What’s going to happen to my sister?”

  “It’s a long list. Murder. Attempted murder. Arson and attempted arson.”

  Takis’s expression was pained. “I never expected Vassoula to be happy, and then, there was Omar. He was the miracle man who came true, even down to being Turkish. I suppose she would have eventually gone with a Greek—I guess she has, with the captain—but she had this thing for Turkish men.”

  “A bit like you with not wanting anything Greek,” Nick reminded him.

  “I’d compromise for a Greek American.”

  “Like I said, you’re stuck with Melbourne. Did you ever guess that Vassoula had done it?”

  “I wondered about it, especially because it could have been me who walked into the kitchen first.”

  “You wouldn’t have been smoking,” Nick reminded him.

  “I could have done something to create a spark.”

  “Opening a door wouldn’t do that, and you would have smelled the gas before you did anything else. No, she counted on a spark, or probably your father’s cigarette. Personally, I never believed he committed suicide. If he opened up the gas bottle, then went out for a smoke and came back inside with his cigarette, the bottle wouldn’t have had time to completely empty itself, and it was empty because it didn’t explode.”

  “Who told you that?”

  “I read the official report.”

  “So you have been investigating me?”

  “You were my main suspect.”

  “Is that why you slept with me?”

  “Are you kidding? Besides, you were only a suspect for a few hours. Did you ever suspect your sister was the arsonist?”

  “Never. I never thought about it. She was always back before the fires were noticed, and whenever she was gone, I assumed she was next door screwing the Coast Guard guy. It was never longer than that.”

  “You told her that you saw my badge, didn’t you?”

  “She called you a faggot. I wanted to impress her. I wanted her to know that faggots are sometimes FBI agents.”

  “Well, you impressed her enough to put a lot of spiders in my bed. She wanted me very sick, or dead.”

  Takis replied, “I’m glad that’s one murder trial I won’t be testifying at.”

  “Me, too.”

  “It’s weird to think, she might have saved your life by bleeding you.”

  “I suppose she had to, if that’s what she knew to do. It’d be suspicious if she didn’t.”

  “She had it all planned, didn’t she? Even trying to frame me by somehow sending the beads from Melbourne.”

  “Not in a serious way. You were a distraction for anyone sniffing around. She never expected to survive. Ultimately she wouldn’t need a fall guy.”

  “I don’t know if that makes me feel any better. Any idea how she actually managed to send the beads?”

  “She’s not been questioned yet.”

  “How bad is she?”

  “Second degree burns on her face.”

  “She won’t like that. She’ll want to die, like Omar wanted to die. They both always got by on their looks. They can’t make me come back for her trial, can they?”

  “You can probably testify by video. If not, you always have a place to camp in Athens.”

  A rousing cheer went up. The final stump had been pulled out. No sooner had the last beauty divested her roots and been hauled away than a flatbed tr
uck rolled up carrying four mature red eucalyptuses. It took five men to carry each tree up the hill and set it upright in one of the holes left behind by the dug-out beauties.

  “Where did they find those trees?” Shirley wondered aloud.

  Lukas didn’t know. Overwhelmed, he had to fight back tears. They weren’t as tall as his beauties all grown up; it was more like they were teenagers, and he would have a chance to see them grow some more. He had a passing sense of how it would feel to have all of his girls home again.

  “I think my grandfather is going to cry,” Athina said, brushing dirt off Ridi’s shoulders.

  “He must be very happy.”

  “Not as happy as me,” she added, “but I talked to my mom.”

  “She is unhappy?”

  “She’ll get over it. Do you think Takis was serious about the restaurant?”

  “He made the offer. I never asked for anything.”

  “My mom wants you to take over her place. Isn’t that crazy? Overnight, from having nothing to having two restaurants and a goat shed! I can’t believe so much has happened since I threw that stupid icon into the water. At first I thought that’s what started the fire.”

  “It was lucky for us.”

  “The fire?”

  “The icon. It was my good luck to make you a crown. I am the most lucky man today. More lucky than all your boyfriends all together!”

  “All my boyfriends? What has my mother been telling you?”

  “I want to make it official.”

  “Make what official?”

  Ridi reached into his pocket for an envelope folded into a small packet. Opening it, he removed a ring made from aluminum foil with one of his faux diamonds glued to it. A little smushed, he reshaped it before offering it with a trembling hand. “Please, you marry me?”

  Suddenly Athina realized the gravity of her answer. Her mother was right: saying you love somebody is different than committing to marriage. Love was the frivolity of a relationship: the fun romantic moments, the gay times, the ups with few downs. Marriage needed something else. Ridi had used the word faithful. Responsible was another one. Her final message in the procession, though lost on everybody once the church caught fire, was about men taking responsibility in a relationship. Faithful and responsible: sturdy words to nourish a relationship. Ridi had proven he was both. But were they too sturdy for her young age? Too confining? Was her mother right that she needed to see the world before settling down? What made her decision so difficult was that she knew that she would eventually demand those exact qualities in a man, and to say no to Ridi risked never finding another truly decent guy. What made her decision easy was that she knew she loved him. “Yes, Ridi, I will marry you,” she said.