‘‘Then I will be content, temporarily, with your statement.’’
The man turns towards us. He nervously transports his look from Antonella to me and returns his eyes to Peter. ‘‘Dima Vladimirov.’’
‘‘Anything else?’’
‘‘What else?’’
Peter smiles with strictness. I will never understand how he achieves this. ‘‘A good question would be why you are in front of me at this moment,’’ he completes the prior smile with a dose of irony. And in such a way he makes it clear to the man that reluctance is not manageable on his part.
‘‘She had invited me to her house for dinner. When I arrived there the door was half-open. I proceeded to the living room. I heard the water in the bathroom and waited for her on the couch. After a few minutes, your people rang the bell. I called her and, as she didn’t reply, I let the policemen in. They searched in the bedroom and found her dead.’’
‘‘Had you closed the entrance door earlier?’’
‘‘Yes.’’
‘‘Why?’’
‘‘Why not?’’ He unfolds the arms and touches his knees with his palms.
The mobile’s ringtone interrupts Peter’s next verbal attack. Probably this man was found in the wrong place at the wrong time. For me, the only suspect is Aris.
‘‘Did you murder Natalie, Mr. Vladimirov?’’ he asks him triggering an outburst in the man’s eyes. And in mine.
Antonella lowers her palm to the side, urging me to be patient.
The blonde man catches his words and turns off the tension from his face. ‘‘Have you got proof that I did it?’’
‘‘If you were not careful, I might have soon. The knife of the murder and a USB stick were found on the dead body.’’
‘‘If the knife is from the kitchen you may find my fingerprints on it.’’
Peter smiles again., with excitement this time. A prolonged silence is interrupted by an exclamation. ‘‘Do you call yourself a murderer?’’
‘‘I lived in this apartment until yesterday.’’
‘‘Corpse. Suspect at the crime scene. Knife of the murder likely to have his fingerprints… Give me a motive and we are ready for your imprisonment.’’
‘‘There is no motive. I met her two days ago. I didn’t kill her,’’ he states boringly, ignoring Peter’s sarcasm.
‘‘Neither did I but guess who of us is in danger of being imprisoned,’’ he says and beats his fingers rhythmically on the desk.
‘‘Surely not me. I don’t have anything else to add.’’
Antonella looks at me expressionlessly. I want to speak to Peter, who is taking his time until the next question.
‘‘Can you imagine what the stick contains?’’
‘‘No.’’
‘‘If I ask you to give us a DNA sample and take your fingerprints, will you cooperate?’’
‘‘Yes,’’ he answers with a cold tone in his voice.
‘‘Are you Russian?’’
‘‘From my father’s side.’’
‘‘Are you here for work?’’
‘‘I have come for vacations. I am hosted by a friend.’’
‘‘Look Mr. Vladimirov… I have no intention of spending all night here asking you questions. As I am a person of limited patience but of high intelligence, I want you to tell me how long you have been here, what your profession in Russia and when you intended to go back.’’
‘‘Look Mr. Deligiannis…’’ he replies in the same spirit and throws his body forward. ‘‘I am not here to persuade you for a murder I haven’t done. I will be on my way after a call to my lawyer. Don’t tire me.’’
‘‘Until we get the results from the laboratory, I am very afraid that we will have to impose restrictive measures on you.’’
He smiles and rubs his beard. ‘‘OK. I will do what you tell me. Experiences give inspiration.’’
‘‘Do everything possible so that the news doesn’t come out in the press. Not yet.’’ Orpheus Nomikos hangs up his mobile phone and meets his son’s terrified look. ‘‘I will go alone for the recognition. You stay here and don’t talk to anyone. Aimilios has them get the car ready,’’ he gives his cold order and proceeds to the entrance.
‘‘Father…’’ His eyes try to brim with tears, but without success. They take a shiny look, like that of someone who is excited too much or has gone crazy.
‘‘Do what I told you,’’ Orpheus orders and wears his coat. His voice as always is sharp. Integral.
Aris sees him moving away; He feels a shame he cannot overcome, but fear overwhelms him again. His demons come out hurriedly on the surface, tying him to the chair of his desk. He thinks he has to talk, watching the cord tighten tightly around his throat, but he can’t find the courage.
He brings forward the image with his father’s icy eyes. He looks at him and trembles. Perfection is lost. It will never be achieved. He will never see the delight on Orpheus’s face. In the last two years, he chose to sink into an eternal, earthly hell fighting for his approval and now he feels that all this sacrifice was in vain.
His sister. Natalie. Her voices terrified him. Her threats. Now she cannot talk. He catches himself rejoicing at her death. Maybe it was divine justice. For all the years he was begging her. For the incident at the pool. For the disparaging glances given to him by his father because of her. He believes that she deserves death.
He puts his legs around the chair. The oscillation starts. He lets his world devour him. His thought is so blurred that he cannot distinguish the sequence of events. Memories of that night play their own game with his mind. He closes the eyes. He is afraid.
Two years ago…
‘‘What did you do?’’
Aris is holding the porcelain lamp in the right hand. He cannot let it down. It seems to have stuck on his hand.
‘‘What did you do?’’
Apostolos is repeating the question, which is covered by the frenetic sounds of a pop song. Manolis is keeping Rose’s mouth shut with his palm, while she is trying in vain to escape from his shackles.
‘‘Is he dead?’’ Aris asks and he has not moved at all from the moment he hit his friend on the head.
Apostolos approaches David’s body, who is lying face down on the ground and presses his fingers on his throat. ‘‘I can’t find a pulse,’’ he claims in a hysterical voice. ‘‘You killed him, asshole!’’
Aris is staring at his fellow student’s lifeless body, holding the light firmly on his right hand. Rose’s screams from David’s previous attack hit his mind like bullets. The music from the ground floor gives rhythm and life to a graduation party that will end with a loss and death. The hum from the laughter and the whistles downstairs make him shudder and throw with a nervous movement the murder weapon on the floor.
‘‘What are we going to do now?’’ Manolis is holding suffocatingly the girl, while she is crying with sobs inside his hands.
‘‘Ask Aris who wanted to act like a hero! We made a joke and look where it led us!’’ Manolis shouts.
‘‘A joke? A joke? He tried to rape her!’’
‘‘And where is the problem, Aris? As if Rose didn’t want it too…’’ he says and two angry female eyes thirsting for revenge fall on him.
‘‘What are we going to do with her?’’
‘‘If we set her free, she will go against us,’’ Apostolos replies and the look of revenge becomes a look of horror. ‘‘We must get rid of her.’’
‘‘Are you serious? What are you saying?’’ Aris look at him with shortness of breath.
‘‘I am saying I won’t let anyone destroy my name, my career. Come on, Aris, since you have done it once you can do it again.’’
‘‘I didn’t want to kill David!’’ he screams and approaches Apostolos aggressively.
‘‘You certainly don’t want your father to learn what happened here, right? What are you going to say to Orpheus Nomikos? Sorry my dad, but I’m a little bit a murderer,’’ he says mimicking
his voice.
‘‘Shut up!’’
‘‘What happened, Aris? This is how you expect to make him proud?’’ he smiles sarcastically.
‘‘I don’t want to get involved with the police either. My parents will stop sending me money!’’ Manolis states with a steady look, not removing even his palm from his fellow student’s mouth even for a seond, while with the other he is holding his mobile phone.
Aris looks at the blood pattern around David’s head and curses himself for trying to stop him. He regrets joining their company. He regrets every minute he spent with them.
Apostolos, David, and Manolis approached him for the reason that has led him to be crying kneeled next to a lifeless body. They were looking for a scapegoat victim they would sacrifice in a difficult moment and Aris gathered all the characteristics for this ‘‘sacrifice.’’ Smart, perhaps the best student in the school, but with zero self-confidence that made him insecure, even for assignments in which he approached the absolute excellence. The three students had dreams for a great career, money, and glory, while Orpheus Nomikos’s son had one and only one wish: to prove to his father that he was the perfect son he had dreamt of!
‘‘We must stay united. This is the only way we can escape. We don’t have many options. I’ll tell you exactly what we should do so that no one understands what happened here.’’ Apostolos comes forward as the absolute leader and gives his orders.
If you play well, you can win. If you know your opponents’ weaknesses, you win without even playing. So Apostolos had already been declared the winner.
The memories cannot be erased from Aris’s memory. They will always be there waiting for him. This is their purpose. That night he lost his freedom forever.
‘‘I killed you,’’ he confesses to the frame on the bookcase. He and Natalie at her graduation.
The sacrifice of perfection
‘‘The time of the death doesn’t exclude any of them. Nomikos and Vladimirov are both suspects.’’ Peter turns off his mobile and throws it on his desk.]]
‘‘I believe the Russian killed her,’’ Antonella claims.
My husband sseems skeptical but does not confirm her. ‘‘How are you so sure?’’ Our colleague rang the bell do not stay in the obvious.
‘‘Peter you said it yourself… The corpse, the suspect, the murder weapon. All that remains to be unveiled is his motive. What do you say, Magda?’’
‘‘Why did he refuse to answer our questions?’’ My first question springs from the part of the unconscious.
‘‘I don’t know… I give more chances to Aris. Have you forgotten that we already suspected him for Maniatis’s death?’’ An expected outburst on his part.
‘‘Let’s not go ahead of ourselves… Let’s first see the results from the laboratories. What does that stick contain? It may reveal the murderer,’’ I say with an impatient tone.
The next moment they inform us that Orpheus Nomikos is in the lobby. I do not have much joy for this meeting. I imagine he will have crumpled his hard face to express his mourning for his daughter’s death. However, I am sorry to believe that for him it will in fact be one more issue to be covered in the political field. This man seems to be made out of steel.
He enters the meeting room wearing a suit and a long, grey coat. Imperious. Imposing. I observe his face. It looks heavy but uncrumpled. I was wrong again.
‘‘Mr. Deligiannis?’’ he stretches his hand reaching the front of Peter’s desk. His peripheral vision detects me and Antonella and overpasses us.
‘‘Are you ready to testify?’’
‘‘Yes.’’
‘‘Please take a seat.’’
The scene looks more like a press interview for me. His hair is dark. It is ridiculous that he dyes his white hair. His slit eyes scan Peter with quicker speed even than his. He gives him short, diplomatic answers, opening his lips gently.
His daughter had just completed her studies.
His daughter was a violinist.
His daughter had just moved into that apartment.
He is not saying anything that we do not know.
‘‘Your son…’’
‘‘My son is preparing for the elections. I would like him not to get involved.’’
‘‘We have to talk to him. He is probably the last person who saw your daughter alive.’’
He folds his hands down. ‘‘Who told you that?’’
‘‘A neighbor mentioned seeing him leave her apartment shortly before she was murdered. According to reports, your son is driving a Mercedes Kompressor c200?’’ Peter explains his lie convincingly, pretending to be peeking at the pages on the left corner of the desk.
‘‘I will tell him to come and speak to you tomorrow.’’ The words come out of his mouth like a recorded message. ‘‘This is my personal number. Let me know about the developments.’’ He leaves his card on the desk and gives me a look before leaving the room.
‘‘He seemed more dynamic in his speeches,’’ Antonella observes, blowing up her fringes.
‘‘Calmness is the most dynamic weapon, Antonella. Being able to handle any situation; that’s when real power appears.’’
‘‘Peter, we are not talking about power here. It is clear that this person is devoted to glory and money and that today is simply a negative day for him…’’ I correct him not being able to remove his cold sight from my eyes.
‘‘Magda…’’ he stands up and comes in front of me. ‘‘I believed that the past two years with me you would have understood that people are not always what they seem…’’ Peter - Magda: one-zero. ‘‘Antonella, tell Ioannis to find out what he can about the Russian…’’ he says hurriedly as he enters a number on the touch screen of his mobile. ‘‘They brought you a stick about two hours ago. What does it contain?’’
Returning home. More specifically returning to the case through home. I am combing my hair, making angry grimaces every time they have been knitted together, and I make a sloppy braid on the edge.
‘‘Melody? What is stored in that USB is a melody? How terrifying and irrelevant is this, Magda?’’
‘‘Maybe he wanted to dedicate it to Natalie…’’
‘‘He recorded himself, as he was playing the piano and passed it in the stick. So, we are talking about premeditated murder. It may be heartbreak. But the Russian he first met her two days ago. A big day awaits us tomorrow. Has Harry fallen asleep?’’
‘‘Finally,…’’ I fall into bed and I can’t even cover myself with the quilt.
‘‘I’m very worried about him crying so often. Let’s take him to the pediatrician again.’’
I sigh. I puff and huff. ‘‘He told us he is crying because his teeth are growing. If we go again, he will probably tell us to change pediatrician!’’
‘‘What are you saying Magda? He is obliged to explain everything to us. There are so many diseases! Do you want us to be ignorant?’’ He sits on the bed supporting his back to the iron and keeps speaking incessantly, but in a strange way he is lulling me to sleep. ‘‘Magda… He is crying again…’’
I watch him approach our son’s crib and I think of moving to Violeta’s room. He observes him as if he is suffering from ten different, asymptomatic illnesses. I smile. He is holding him tightly and caressing gently his back. His movements calm me. I close my eyes and I get lost in a sweet sleep.
He is out of breath. The load is very heavy. Heavy for his shoulders. Too heavy for his conscience to lift. The rocky ground is replaced by a soft, wet soil from the night moisture, covered with of fallen pine needles.
They are many kilometers away from the villa, walking hidden in an unknown forest. Apostolos is kicking the branches opening them the way. He is the leader and he is driving them. Leaders are never burdened. The dome of old-aged pines is covering the ritual of a double crime.
The party hosts are in a deep lethargy, after alcoholic reinforcement by the leader. He doubts they will remember anything from this night tomorrow morning.
This was their first target in his calculated plan. The second one was to take the corpses downstairs and load them in his car without leaving the slightest trace in the house. The third target is in progress.
‘‘Here is fine.’’
Aris leaves David’s corpse on the ground and Manolis throws Rose’s lifeless body next to him.
‘‘It is dawning in a while. We must hurry.’’ The leader pulls back. ‘‘Let’s finish as soon as possible,’’ he says and falls down on the soil which in a while will hide two people who will be considered as missing.
Aris returns to the present. He closes his eyes. He looks at the darkness of that night. A few seconds of eternity follow a meteoric illusion between dream and death.
He is waiting for his father to return from the police station, lost in memories of the night that he sacrificed the his soul’s freedom, so as not to lose the one of his body. In order not to risk his father’s appreciation.
‘‘Aris…’’
Orpheus Nomikos enters the room, without his known imposingness. He takes the carved chair from the window and puts it in front of his son’s desk. ‘‘Are you the last person who saw Natalie alive?’’
Aris’s breath is visibly accelerating. He is breathing from his mouth and not from his nose. He thinks that someone watched him. His fears come true. Someone knows the truth and is waiting for the right moment to blackmail him. His palms are dripping with sweat. He dries them hurriedly on his trouser, developing heat.
‘‘Aris you must tell me the truth.’’ His father’s black eyes are dripping rage. ‘‘Have you got any relation with your sister’s murder?’’
Aris shakes his head negatively. His vocal strings are unable to work together. He increases the friction rate on his trouser.
‘‘If there is something you haven’t told me, you must do it now.’’ His father pronounces the most low-key order he has ever given in his life.
‘‘I didn’t do anything… I never did anything to her… She…’’
‘‘She is dead.’’ Orpheus stops his son’s outburst. ‘‘The police officer wants to talk to you. You will go with Phaedon tomorrow. He will guide you on what to say.’’
The Last Symphony Page 9