The Mykonos Mob

by Jeffrey Siger

  “I’m sure he’s tried,” said Andreas, turning onto Kifissias Avenue in the direction of downtown Athens. “That’s what really concerns me. If with all his connections and power he really can’t ID the bad guys, Greeks or foreigners, then some very serious and disciplined new players are likely moving in on the black-money businesses.”

  Yianni scratched the top of his head. “Or Despotiko knows who they are, but is unwilling or afraid to start something up with them. So, instead, he’s trying to hustle us into doing his dirty work.”

  “Speaking of Despotiko and dirty work, there’s a story about him I think you might enjoy. It gives you a sense of the man, and what he’s capable of doing. It’s about a favor he did for a friend who’d asked him to recover photos a famous celebrity was using to blackmail a young woman the friend liked. Ever hear it?”

  “No.”

  “The friend came to Despotiko and asked him to recover the photos from the celebrity, but only if Despotiko promised not to beat or kill him. Despotiko promised, then arranged for the celebrity to be kidnapped, made to stand in freshly poured cement for seven hours, taken out in a boat and dropped into the water wearing his new concrete boots. Up until that point they’d not said a word to him about why they were doing what they were to him. Two and a half minutes later they pulled him back into the boat by a rope tied to the concrete. He was unconscious. After bringing him around, he started crying like a baby, and promised to do whatever they wanted. That’s when they told him. Needless to say, he destroyed the photos.”

  “Sounds like a very effective approach.”

  “The story’s not over. When the friend heard what had happened to the celebrity, he complained to Despotiko. Despotiko is reported to have told his friend, ‘I didn’t beat or kill him.’”

  “Quite a story.”

  “And a good one to circulate if you’re Despotiko. Even if it’s not true.” Andreas braked to avoid a motorcycle cutting in front of them to exit the wrong way onto a one-way street.

  “Malaka!” yelled Yianni.

  “Have you noticed that we’re not talking about Despotiko as tied into the Colonel’s murder?”

  “Yeah,” said Yianni. “I don’t see him involved.”

  “Me either. But keep an open mind to that possibility as you poke around Mykonos.”

  Yianni stared at the side of his boss’ head. “I was wondering when you’d get around to that. So, when are we off to Mykonos?”

  “Uh, not we. At least not right away. I’ve commitments that will keep me here until the weekend. But you should head over there tomorrow.”

  “And do what?”

  “Start by interviewing Mrs. Despotiko, see where things go from there.”

  Yianni sat quietly, staring straight ahead.

  “What’s bothering you?” said Andreas. “You’re single and Mykonos is a party island that you know intimately. I thought you’d jump at the chance.”

  Yianni smiled ruefully. “Mykonos is expensive now. Really expensive. My cop buddies can’t afford to live there on a police salary.”

  “You’ll only be there a few days.”

  “Do you have any idea how much those couple of days will cost me? Nearly a month’s salary just for the hotel room. Do I get an expense account?”

  Andreas rolled his eyes. “Expense account? These days?” He reached over and patted Yianni’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’m sure you can stay at Lila’s parents’ house.”

  “I don’t want to impose.”

  “You won’t be imposing. They’re away, and your presence will discourage burglars.”

  Yianni’s expression changed to a grin. “If I hustle home to pack, I could make it there by tonight.”

  Andreas shook his head. “I think I’ve just been had.”

  Chapter Three

  Andreas surprised Lila by making it home in time for dinner.

  He found her in the kitchen, holding their seven-month-old daughter, Sofia, in her arms.

  “She’s been in a real mood today. Doesn’t want me to let go of her.”

  “I know the feeling,” said Andreas, gently pinching Sofia’s cheeks and kissing Lila’s.

  “It must be a slow day for you to be home so early.”

  “I wish that were true. Truth is, this might be the last chance I have to be home at a decent hour for quite a while.”

  “What’s happening?”

  “We have a serious—”

  A rolling shout of “Daddy,” came roaring down the hallway in their direction from the lungs of a racing five-year-old.

  “How’s my main man Tassaki?” said Andreas, bending down to scoop his son into his arms.

  “You’re home.”

  Andreas kissed him.

  “Can we play?”

  “After dinner,” said Lila.

  Sofia leaned forward in her mother’s arms, reaching out for her father.

  “I sense a bit of budding sibling rivalry,” said Lila.

  “What’s that mean?” asked Tassaki.

  Andreas tussled his son’s hair. “Your sister wants attention.”

  “Girls,” said Tassaki distastefully, hugging his arms around his father’s neck.

  “Whoa there,” said Lila. “Don’t say that sort of thing. Boys and girls both want their daddy’s attention.”

  “And their mommy’s,” added Andreas.

  “But Sofia gets to spend all day at home with mommy doing mommy things, and I only get to be with you when you’re not at work doing daddy things.”

  Andreas sensed before he saw his wife’s raised eyebrows. “Care to help me out on this?” he said.

  Lila handed Sofia to Andreas in exchange for Tassaki. She held him so they were eye to eye. “You know how I always tell you that you can be anything you want to be when you grow up, as long as you always try your best?”

  Tassaki nodded.

  “Well, the same is true for your sister. Just like boys, girls can be anything they want to be if they try hard enough. Your sister can do daddy things, and you can do mommy things.” She kissed him on the forehead.

  “But I want to be like daddy and do policeman things.”

  Lila smiled. “If that’s what you want, that’s fine.”

  “So, won’t Sofia want to be just like you, and do what you do at home?”

  Lila stared blankly at Andreas. “Your turn on the witness stand.”

  “Your mommy does all sorts of things.”

  “But you go to the office and she stays home.”

  “That doesn’t make what I do any more important than what your mommy does.”

  A buzzer went off. “What’s that?” said Andreas.

  “You being saved by the bell.” Lila put Tassaki down. “The chicken’s ready.”

  “Where Marietta? And the nanny? You could use their help.”

  “It’s Marietta’s evening off, and Anna’s doing laundry. But what’s the big deal? It’s just plain, everyday cooking, cleaning, baby-sitting, diaper changing, and philosophizing with a five-year-old.”

  “Right, just mommy things,” Andreas whispered in her ear.

  Lila offered a forced smile. “A wise decision, keeping those thoughts quiet at this particular moment.”

  “I value my domestic bliss.”

  She waved Andreas off into the dining room. “Put the baby in her high chair.”

  “Can I help you with something?”

  “Just do that and keep them entertained until I get them their dinners.”

  Andreas’ cozy evening at home with his family was not going as envisioned. He saw a serious discussion looming on the horizon over careers and role models. Lila had been hinting at a desire to get back into what she called “the adult world.” She feared that after so many years of child-rearing she’d lost the spunk that once
made her the premier fundraiser in Athens’ art-and-museum scene.

  Andreas had assured her that she’d not lost a step, but both knew that Greece’s ongoing financial crisis had dramatically changed the fundraising world as she’d known it. Austerity had generosity on the wane, and frustration had replaced the “fun” in fundraising. Resuming her old work was a non-starter. She needed to find another career, one that utilized her talents and invigorated her but did not require her to sacrifice the many joyful aspects of being a mom.

  Andreas wished he had an answer for her.

  Lila knew she didn’t have to cook, clean, or, for that matter, do any domestic chores. She led a privileged life, in which money was not a concern and help readily available. She did what housework she did for herself, in order to maintain, as best she could, the sense of self-worth she’d once held as a career woman.

  Five years—almost six—had slipped by in the blink of an eye. Now her son was off to school, and she was back to rearing another baby. She wondered if she’d be asking herself the same question in five more years—Where has my life gone?

  She wanted to cry. But she had a chicken to get on the dinner table for her son and husband, and an egg to prepare for her daughter.

  Am I depressed? Perhaps it’s postpartum depression. That wouldn’t be unheard of.

  She shook her head. She had no time for such thoughts now. Maybe after the babies were asleep.

  Except Tassaki wasn’t a baby anymore.

  Her mind wandered, unfocused thoughts jumping in and out. She concentrated on putting dinner on the table. She’d get into everything else later. With Andreas. But how could she unload all of this on him? He had his own problems at work, and hoped to find peace at home. She couldn’t do that to him. But if not to her husband, to whom? And why were his problems any more significant than hers?

  Yes. We’ll talk later.

  Lila swung out into the dining room, platters in each hand. “Dinner is served.”

  Tassaki took great pride showing off his skills with knife and fork, and Sofia ate most of her egg. In light of how things had started out, Andreas considered dinner a major success. He thought to compliment Lila, but decided not to raise the subject. How well she was rearing the children touched too closely on what troubled her. Instead, he stuck to general political and social gossip, leaving Lila to decide when to bring up what he knew occupied her thoughts.

  When Lila got up to clear the table, Andreas motioned for her to remain seated. “No, you cooked. Tassaki and I will do this. In this Greek household, men share domestic chores with women.”

  Lila stared at him. “Don’t you think you’re pushing the point a bit hard?”

  “It has to be made when the children are young.”

  “I’ll carry my plate, Daddy.”

  Andreas winked at Lila. “That’s my boy.”

  “Okay, I’ll get Sofia ready for bed. Tassaki already had his bath, so just put him in his pajamas.”

  “And read him three stories,” added Tassaki, carrying his plate toward the kitchen.

  Lila struggled to suppress a smile. “Okay, mister negotiator, but only one story.”

  “Two,” said Tassaki.

  Andreas shrugged. “He is helping with the dishes.”

  Lila sighed through a now-irrepressible smile, “I know when I’m being tag-teamed. Okay. Two stories. But that’s my final offer.”

  “Deal,” said Tassaki, raising his right hand to high-five his father.

  “Great,” said Andreas. “Now let’s show Mommy what we can do in the kitchen.”

  By the time they’d finished cleaning up, Sofia was in bed; Lila joined them for the storytelling.

  Tassaki was fast asleep before Andreas had finished the second story. They crept out of his room and crossed over to the other side of the apartment, into a living room offering an unobstructed panoramic view of the brightly lit Acropolis. They sat on their favorite couch and stared quietly out the windows.

  “I never tire of this view,” said Andreas.

  “That’s because you don’t see it twenty-four/seven.”

  Andreas patted her thigh. “I wondered when you’d get around to that subject.”

  She patted his thigh. “Well, wonder no longer.”

  Andreas drew in and let out a breath. “So, what do you want to do with the rest of your life?”

  “How nice of you to put the question so succinctly.” Lila leaned her head against Andreas’ shoulder. “If I knew, I wouldn’t be in this lousy mood.”

  “Then let me put it differently,” Andreas said, kissing her forehead. “Something has your thinking all jammed up. What do you think it is?”

  “Same answer.”

  “But try.”

  Lila fluttered breath out between her lips, and shut her eyes. “I feel as if I’m irrelevant.”

  “That’s not so. You—”

  Lila put her hand over Andreas’ mouth without opening her eyes. “I don’t need a cheerleader. You asked me to answer a question. So let me do it in my own way.”

  “Sorry.”

  “As I said, I’m feeling irrelevant. I see nothing I do as truly mattering, nothing to change the world or even contribute to the world. And, yes, I know one can say properly raising children accomplishes all of those things, but only if they grow up to matter, change, or contribute to the world. In other words, I’m kicking my responsibility for having my own meaningful life down the road to my children. I’m putting my burden on them. And that doesn’t strike me as fair for any of us.”

  Andreas said nothing.

  Lila opened her eyes. “You can speak now.”

  He swallowed. “Not sure that I agree, but let’s assume you’re correct. Are you talking about bringing about change to the world or something more personal?”

  Lila paused. “I’m not vain enough to think anything I might do would ever rise to the level of achieving world peace, but I would like it to be significant to a broader swath of society than just our family. My fundraising work gave me that sort of satisfaction.”

  “It sounds to me that you’re making progress. If I’m reading you correctly, you’ve ruled out any sort of commercial enterprise.”

  “If you mean selling art, fashion, or tequila, the answer is yes.”

  “I mean anything where the primary goal is making money for private profit, as opposed to making money for charitable purposes.”

  “Yes, I must say I’m attracted to eleemosynary causes.”

  “Are we having one of those, ‘You say potato, I say potahto,’ moments, à la Ella Fitzgerald?”

  Lila offered him a blank stare. Then rolled her eyes. “Okay, I get it. ‘You say charity, I say eleemosynary.’”

  “Bingo.”

  “The title of the song happens to be, ‘Let’s Call the Whole Thing Off.’”

  “Whoops. Not intended.”

  She smiled. “I know.” She squeezed his hand.

  He squeezed back.

  “I need to get back in the world, into the swing of things and see what’s out there that might interest me. Teas and charitable events are not doing it. I’ve got to learn firsthand what other women are doing to overcome these feelings. I can’t be the first mother to feel so adrift.”

  “Sounds like a plan to me. But where do you intend to start?”

  “In a place where I can find the kind of women I need to meet.”

  “In Athens?”

  “No. I already know their stories, and, as inspiring as they might be to some, I want to meet new women, from different walks of life and foreign cultures. I won’t find them in Athens in summertime.”

  Andreas shrugged. “Then where?”

  “A place that draws successful types from all over the world, and where I have connections to arrange introductions.” Lila bit at her lip. “The pl
ace that immediately comes to mind is Mykonos.”

  Andreas sat quietly for a moment. “You know, at first I thought that a silly idea, but on reflection, I think it’s a damned good one. Some of the most influential people in the world come to Mykonos on holiday, and they love to go on and on, talking about their work and offering insights on subjects they’d never think of discussing with strangers back home. Come to think of it, it’s a brilliant idea.”

  “There you go again, overselling.”

  Andreas slapped his thigh. “No, I’m not. I’m dead serious. I think it’s the perfect way for you to spend the summer.”

  Lila’s face drooped into a pout.

  “What’s wrong?” said Andreas.

  Lila looked down. “You don’t seem the least bit upset at the thought of the children and me being away on Mykonos all summer while you’re alone back here in Athens.”

  Andreas grinned. “What makes you think I’ll be alone?”

  She looked up and glared at her husband. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Remember back before dinner when I said something serious had come up at work that would affect my ability to spend time at home?”

  Lila cocked her head. “Yes.”

  “Well, that something is on Mykonos!”

  “You mean—”

  “I mean all those foreign ladies won’t have you to themselves. They’ll have to share you with me.”

  Lila wrapped her arms around Andreas’ neck and kissed him. “What can I say? It must be fate.”

  “Whatever it is, I plan on taking advantage of it at every opportunity.”

  Lila stood up, pulled at Andreas’ arm, dragged him off the couch, and led him away. “And there’s no better opportunity than now.”

  He glanced up at the Acropolis as they headed off to the bedroom. “Thank you, dear Fates.”

  Yianni got the last available seat on the early morning flight to Mykonos out of Venizelos Airport, but only because he used his badge and a bit of smooth-talking to finagle a supervisor into putting him into a cockpit jump seat behind the pilots. Though less than a half-hour flight, the trip between Athens and Mykonos held the dubious distinction of being the most expensive per mile route in Europe, and still the planes flew packed throughout the summer.