“My chief said he needed his experienced personnel out in the field, not babysitting a comatose suspect.”
Andreas drew in and let out a breath. “I suggest we keep this conversation just between us, Sergeant.”
“I was hoping you’d say that.”
Andreas heard someone yelling at the sergeant from the background, telling him to get off the phone.
“Sorry. I’ve got to run if you want me to get that information to you while I still can get my hands on it.”
“Don’t let me hold you up. And, by the way, thanks.” Andreas ended the call and looked at Yianni. “What do you make of that?”
“Same as you. A well-planned hit. And unless coincidence has once again reared its ugly head, someone set the stage for that phony nurse to pull it off.”
“I’m surprised we didn’t hear from the doctor or the sergeant’s chief.”
“Me too,” said Yianni.
“Someone’s pulling some mighty powerful strings.” Andreas pointed at his phone. “And that sergeant knows it.” He paused. “On the other hand, as head of the guard detail, it’s his ass on the line for what happened.”
“Unless he can shift blame to someone else.”
“You’ve got that right.”
“So, you don’t buy the story about his chief?”
“At this point, I’m not believing or disbelieving anything. The more we learn, the more we realize everything is possible.”
Yianni nodded but didn’t speak.
“What’s on your mind?” asked Andreas.
“We now have two organized hits tied to Karavakis, and gossip has Desptiko somehow involved in the hotel project. Don’t you think now we should tell Toni to back off on the snooping?”
“Why don’t you take a ride into town and bring her back here, where we can have that conversation in private.”
Yianni sighed. “My last meeting with her did not end well. She might not come.”
“Persuade her, man. Use your charm. She still thinks you’re good-looking.”
Toni made it back to her hotel from the harbor with the intention of going straight to bed. But then she ran into Niko sitting on the veranda with a group of guests. Most looked to be old-timers who’d been coming to the island since Niko’s father had run the hotel. Niko had once told her, in what Toni took as jest, that the best possible option for his business would be to turn it into an old-folks home. No rowdiness, no late nights, no worries about getting paid. He called it his plan for “a more peaceful life.”
From the cast of characters gathered around him on the veranda, he seemed to be putting his plan into action. The youngest looked to be about fifty, a striking woman with curly, dark brown hair and green eyes sitting next to him on a bench.
“Toni, come over here, I want you to meet some old friends of mine,” said Niko.
“Old being the operative word,” said a handlebar-mustached, silver-haired fellow in a lilting Scottish accent.
“Don’t mind Ricky,” said Niko with a wave of his hand. “He’s still working on developing a sense of humor. Come, join us.” The green-eyed woman next to him moved over to make room, and Niko patted the spot where she’d been sitting.
That was the curse of being a performer indebted to your landlord—always on call to serve as entertainment. “Just for a bit. I’ve got to prepare for tonight.”
“What’s to get ready for?” said a tanned, nattily dressed woman with shoulder-length blond hair next to Ricky. “By now you must know all your songs by heart.” She spoke in a distinctly Midwestern American non-accent.
Toni forced a smile. “There are always new ones to learn.”
“Well, I haven’t heard any, and I’ve been going to that bar where you play since it opened.”
Toni shrugged. “I try to play new music all the time. It’s just that customers keep asking to hear their old favorites.”
The woman practically scowled. “It’s your piano. Take charge of your own life.”
Before Toni could respond, Ricky waved his hand at the woman. “Don’t let Margo get to you. She’s just grumpy that all her plastic surgery hasn’t made her feel any younger inside.”
Margo shot him the middle finger. “What would you know about how I feel inside? Go to hell, limp-dick.” Then she turned and scowled directly at Toni.
Toni stared at her. “I’m sorry, but have I somehow offended you?”
Ricky laughed. “Yeah, by being forty years younger and a hell of a lot prettier.”
Margo’s face flushed and she jumped up to storm off, but Niko grabbed her by the arm. “Margo, sit down. And Ricky, shut the hell up.”
“That’s like asking a toilet not to flush,” said Margo.
“Then stop pulling on my handle,” quipped Ricky.
A distinguished, fair-skinned fellow sitting next to a similarly elegant, dark-skinned, younger man on a love seat, cleared his throat. “Ah, we’ve finally reached the crux of the battle between these two. For over forty years, Ricky’s been desperately trying to get into Margo’s pants, but now that she’s willing, he can’t deliver the goods.”
This time Ricky jumped up and started for the fair-skinned fellow, but Niko used his free hand to grab him. He held on to Ricky and Margo as the two of them, and everyone else on the veranda, erupted into a shouting match until Niko finally worked out a truce among his warring guests and let go of the two main combatants’ arms.
Toni looked at Niko. “Does there ever come an age when conversations don’t always tie back into sex?”
The woman next to Toni leaned in. “I hope not.” She held out her hand and smiled. “My name is Eugénie. I caught your performance the other night, and I loved it.”
Toni smiled. “Thank you,” and shook her hand.
“Our beautiful Eugénie used to be a regular on the island,” said Niko. “But she hasn’t been back in years. She was an actress in Paris.”
Eugénie laughed. “Thanks for the compliment. I prefer that romanticized description to the life I actually lived.“
Niko smiled. “What can I say, you’re an unforgettable lady.”
She laughed. “It’s my nature.”
“After you, they threw away the mold.”
“No need to lay it on so thick, old friend. We both know the truth.” She waved her hand at the group. “In fact, everyone here does.”
No one spoke.
Toni perked up. “I don’t.”
Still no one spoke.
Eugénie patted Toni on the hand. “They’re all being gracious in my presence, but once I’m gone, they’ll tell you all about me.”
“No we won’t,” said Ricky.
“Of course you will,” said Eugénie. “How could you resist telling such a juicy story? I know I couldn’t.” She looked at Toni. “So I’ll tell you my story in my own words, quickly and to the point.”
Eugénie drew in and let out a deep breath. “Bottom line, I was what was called back then euphemistically a high-class call girl. But hooker or whore works too.”
“You’re kidding,” said Toni.
“I was quite a looker back then.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“I know.” She patted Toni’s hand. “But it was the best way I had to make the kind of living it afforded me. No education, no skills, just my looks and a personality.”
“You worked as a hooker on Mykonos?”
“Mostly I came here on holiday.” She smiled. “Yes, even hookers go on vacation.” Her gaze seemed to drift off into the middle distance. “But on occasion I did entertain a few clients. In fact, that’s how I met the man who turned out to be my husband, right here on the island. We married and had a family. Two boys.”
“Great kids,” said Niko. “They’ve stayed here with me.
“Thank you, Niko.�
� She looked at Toni. “Yes, my husband knew my past before we married.” She looked down at her hands. “He passed away last year.”
“So sorry,” said Toni.
“He was the joy of my life.” She smiled. “And just to rob my friends here of the punchline to my story…he was very, very rich, so this Cinderella found her true Prince Charming.”
“What a tale. Bravo for you,” said Toni.
“Believe it or not,” said Niko, “that sort of thing happens around here more often than you might imagine. This island’s a regular fairy-tale production center.”
“Complete with hookers everywhere,” snapped Margo.
“It’s cheaper to pay than marry,” added Ricky.
“If anyone would know about that, it would be cheap-o you,” chimed in Margo.
“Now, folks, play nice,” said Niko.
“I do doubt, though, whether Ricky could afford the top tier,” said the distinguished-looking fellow. “Last I heard, the price is twenty thousand euros a day, ten thousand a night, or fifteen hundred an hour.”
“You must be joking,” laughed Eugénie. “That’s almost enough to lure me out of retirement.”
Niko nodded. “Yep, I’ve heard those prices, too, but they’re not the norm. The pimps set prices based upon how they size up their customers. Twenty thousand euros is what they charge a mega-rich client. One who wants his couture-draped celebrity fantasy helicoptered in for twenty-four hours of escort service to the island’s priciest clubs and restaurants. If you’re an average sort of hotel guest, you’re charged between three hundred to a thousand euros for a round of sex, but in the big villas, where the wildest partying goes on, it’s between one and three thousand. On yachts, I’ve heard it’s between five and ten thousand for a half-day. Those are Mykonos prices, double what you’d pay in Athens or Thessaloniki. Then there are special prices for ‘special arrangements.’” He shook his head. “Any way you look at it, that’s why there are so many hookers on the island.”
“And pimps,” said Ricky.
“And money laundries,” said the distinguished fellow.
“Is Angelos still in business?” asked Eugénie.
“Karavakis?” asked Niko.
“Yes.”
“Bigger than ever.”
“I’m not surprised. He knew how to ingratiate himself to the right people,” said Eugénie.
“What do you mean?” said Toni.
“I know there’s a lot of bad things to be said about him, but I’ll always have a soft spot in my heart for him.”
“Why’s that?”
“He introduced me to my husband.”
The only response Toni could think of to say to that was “Oh.”
At that moment a motorcycle roared up onto the hotel terrace. It stopped close by their bench. Toni turned to see who’d broken the trance she’d established with Eugénie.
Yianni smiled at her.
Great. Now what?
Chapter Fifteen
Yianni didn’t have the difficult time he’d expected in convincing Toni to come with him. She initially resisted, saying she was exhausted and needed a nap, but a green-eyed woman next to her said, “Darling, as the adage goes, you’ll have plenty of time to sleep when you’re dead.” Then she whispered something in Toni’s ear that had both women laughing.
Whatever she said, and Yianni wasn’t sure he wanted to know, the next thing he knew Toni had mounted his bike, snuggled in tight behind him, and wrapped her arms around his waist.
“Hast thou come to rescue me from these dour and dreary times?” she said.
“Huh?” said Yianni, pushing off with his feet to turn the bike around.
“Just drive, Prince Charming, just drive.”
On the twenty-minute ride back to the house, Yianni tried concentrating on the road, but his mind kept wandering to other thoughts brought on by the press of Toni’s tight body up hard against his own, her face nestled against his neck, and the BMW humming rhythmically between their legs.
When they reached the house, Yianni pulled to a stop and turned off the motor. Toni stayed as she was for a moment, her arms still tight around Yianni’s waist.
“Thanks for the ride.”
“My pleasure.”
“And I’m sorry if I snapped at you last night. I know you wouldn’t intentionally have tried to deceive me.”
“Or knowingly put you in harm’s way.”
She dropped her arms, and swung her leg off the bike. “Which I assume brings us to why you brought me out here to meet with you and Andreas.”
“And don’t forget about me,” said Lila coming out of the house. “I’m so happy you finally were able to make it, no matter what reason Yianni and my husband concocted to get you here.”
The women took each other’s hands and exchanged cheek kisses.
“I’m glad, too,” said Toni, giving Lila’s hands a squeeze before letting go.
“Come, let’s sit on the terrace. Andreas is waiting. We held off lunch until you got here. He’s famished.”
“I know the feeling,” said Yianni.
A breeze had picked up on the terrace, steadily ruffling the branches of the oleanders and olive trees. Lila brushed her fingers through her hair in an effort to control the strands tussled by the wind. She looked at Toni. “We’re used to this, but if you’d prefer to eat away from the wind, we can move inside.”
“No, I love the wind. It gives me an excuse for not keeping a napkin on my lap. Something that used to drive my mother crazy when I was a kid.”
“Hi, Toni. Welcome.” Andreas kissed her on both cheeks. “I appreciate your coming out to join us.”
“I wish it were purely for social reasons, but from the little I’ve gleaned from Yianni, it’s not.”
“Sadly, you’re right.”
“Excuse me,” said Lila looking at Andreas. “I don’t mean to sound like some ditzy sit-com wife, oblivious to all the important things you professionals do, but would you mind waiting until our guest at least has a plate of food in front of her before turning the screws?”
“And a glass of wine,” added Toni.
“Point made,” said Andreas swooping his hand in the direction of a buffet spread out atop a table overlooking the sea and shaded from the sun by the house.
Green salad with figs, avocado, and prosciutto, Greek salad, tabouleh, spanakopita, keftedes—meatballs made from beef, some from chicken—grilled octopus, and a basket of breads alongside tzatziki and taramasalata dips, all sat surrounding a gigantic platter filled with different types of freshly grilled fish.
“Where’s the rest of the army coming for lunch?” said Toni.
“We do tend to get carried away with things out here,” said Lila.
“I’ll say. You must have a heck of a compost heap.”
“You’d be surprised how rapidly this disappears, what with guests popping in unexpectedly, and these two guys getting hunger urges at all hours,” pointing one hand at Yianni, the other at Andreas.
Toni filled her plate and walked to the spot at the table with the lone filled wineglass.
“I take it this is my place?”
“Sit wherever you’d like,” said Andreas.
“I just wanted to make sure I didn’t take the prosecutor’s chair.”
“I’ll take that as a sign you’re ready for my lecture.” Andreas and Lila sat across from Toni, and Yianni sat next to her.
“Ready as ever,” said Toni, picking up and taking a bite of spinach pie. “Mm, delicious.”
“Okay,” said Andreas. “I asked you to pick up local gossip on Karavakis’ project because I thought you could gather it without risk to yourself. But that’s all changed. It’s too dangerous. I’m calling you off, and telling you to stop whatever snooping you’re doing into his affairs.”
“I assume by telling, you mean suggesting.”
Andreas didn’t respond.
“But, to be fair, that seems to be the order of the day for me. I just got a similar warning from someone else.”
“What kind of warning?”
“Not a threat, a friend looking out for me. Well, not actually a friend, more like a business acquaintance who told me my clandestine sleuthing was about as subtle as a polar bear at a dance recital.”
“Nice visual,” said Lila.
“Trouble is, I don’t see how I can just walk away from a fifteen-year-old girl who’s been, or soon will be, turned into a prostitute by Karavakis’ son.” Toni told them of her morning watching the daughter at work at the kiosk, and her subsequent conversation with the unnamed Christos.
“Who warned you?”
“Can’t say. Professional confidences forbid it. Just take my word for it that he’s not the bad guy. At least not in this instance.”
Andreas looked at her sternly. “Toni, two men are already dead. Murdered. Both directly tied into this island and Karavakis. The most recent murder victim tried to kill Yianni and me, and now he’s dead. Our current best guess is that whoever’s behind this was afraid the killer would talk. Bad guys are in panic mode, and you don’t want to be out there giving them ideas about what you know or might learn. You may only be trying to rescue the girl, but they won’t see it that way.”
Toni took a sip of wine. “I’ve had those same thoughts.”
“When?” said Yianni.
“After my conversation with my sometimes bad-guy friend.” She caught Yianni’s eye. “And while we were riding out here.” She looked away. “I don’t know why I feel compelled to take such a big risk for someone I don’t know. If I knew Adina, I might not even like her.” She shook her head. “Then I hear a story like the one I just did from Eugénie,” Toni turned to Yianni, “the woman sitting next to me at the hotel when you picked me up.” She focused back on Andreas. “I guess I think I’m the one person on earth who could steer this young girl away from a life of prostitution and toward something fulfilling.”
Andreas patted the table gently. “That’s all good and admirable thinking, and the thought of being able to rescue some poor soul from a life filled with demons is an extraordinary motivator. But let’s be honest with ourselves. Pressing ahead in this instance is not likely to lead to a storybook ending. Here we’re talking about crossing a mega-bad guy…and possibly someone worse.”
The Mykonos Mob Page 20