I smiled and wished him a good night as I parked beside his 90’s black, Honda Civic that occupied the only parking slot belonging to the studio police station. I drove off in a hurry; twenty minutes left for the last ferry to Athens.
My heartbeat dropped as I drove onto the ferry with two whole minutes to spare. It was a sweet night. The fresh breeze mingled with the ocean’s unique smell, the cloudless sky with its myriads of twinkling spots of light and the calm sea reflecting the almost full moon, ordered me to not stay locked in my car. It took only twenty minutes to the mainland and it was worth every minute spent on the ship’s upper deck. Loud ship horns interrupted the squawking of the seagulls. Piraeus port was welcoming passenger ships carrying exhausted and hungover folk from their island vacations. Monstrous cargo ships were embarking alongside the shiny yellow forklifts waiting to upload long, metallic containers; their bellies filled with goods ranging from cars to cans of baked beans. The city shined bright, making you forget how tedious the concrete city really looked. It out-shined the stars and polluted the environment, but it looked majestic and strangely peaceful. That is until, you drove into it and got stuck in traffic with the rest of the ants. This ant was hungry. This ant ordered from his local tavern, strapatsada for starters, lamb chops with lemon and oregano for the main course and baklava for dessert. Yes, this ant was hungry. The cook made strapatsada just how he liked it. Three eggs scrambled with olive oil, tomato puree and feta cheese.
I unlocked the screeching wooden door and entered my begging-for-a-clean, one bedroom apartment. I threw the bags of food onto my coffee table, fetched a knife, a fork and two ice cold Mythos beers from the kitchen, undressed down to my boxers, scratched my privates and fell back onto my black, leather sofa. Dexter was just starting on Star Channel. Perfect. By the end of the suspenseful episode, all food was consumed and my eyes were growing heavy. Nirvana. Morpheus took over. The last thought of the day slid through my conscious mind...
Not all can be grown here...
Chapter 9
He pushed open the heavy door. He felt even more excited than the time before, yet he did not show it. He was not alone this time. His Piggy did not lift up his head this time. For a moment he worried that it had died. Thankfully, his large belly gave away that he was breathing.
‘Take him up,’ he ordered. ‘Wash him down with the hose. Be extra careful with the wings. Tie him up to the cross and gather the brothers. I’ll be up shortly.’
He stood aside and started to pray. He watched as the four monks accompanying him carried out his orders. He fought back an evil smile. His Piggy found the strength to try to resist. He shook back and forth, but the strong hands holding him, remained around his arms. All he achieved was to dirty the cell’s floor with blood from his wounds and with his own filth that was stuck on him.
He watched them ascend the steps and waited until he was sure he was alone. He unlatched the bolt of the nearby cell. He stood in the doorway with the wall candle’s light behind him. He loved how his shadowy figure scared his prisoners. Especially the young ones. The little, blonde girl ran and curled up in the corner. Her eyes, sore from the lack of light, painting the fear across her pale face.
‘Do not cry, little girl. We are killing Piggy tonight. If you’re lucky we will be ready for you in a few days. Soon, you will go and meet all the other bastards this world has rightfully struck down!’
The little girl stood up and ran towards him begging him to let her go. She stretched out her little arms to hug his leg and implore him to show mercy. With a face of disgust, he lifted his right leg and kicked her hard in the chest, throwing her back against the cold, stone wall.
‘Do not touch me with your unholy, bastard hands!’
He stepped back and slammed the door shut. He paused and touched his heart. He was getting too old for this. He had much to do and he was not sure how much longer the Lord would keep him on this Earth. He hastened up the steps and dashed to his chambers. He ran through the open door and knelt before the Holy Book. He rose with difficulty and bowed to kiss the book’s animal-leather cover. He caught his breath and picked up the book, placing it with care between his body and his arm. He looked out of the oval window. Clean Piggy was tied up to his cross. Monks walked to and from him, gathering wood and placing it around him. Everything was set. He thanked God for His assistance and trudged down to the courtyard.
With the assistance of his brothers, he climbed the wooden ladder to the tiny balcony that jutted out of the wall, looking displaced. Similar to the many wildflowers that, against all odds, found a way to grow out of the stone wall.
He coughed to clear his throat, pulled out his small, reading glasses from his robe’s lonely pocket and placed the heavy book on the balcony’s thick, wooden railing. As he fixed his glasses upon his broad Greek nose, the last monk had gathered below and all stood in formation. No one spoke. The only thing interfering with the silence was the rubbing of ‘Piggy’s’ flesh against the chunky ropes that enclosed his arms and feet.
‘My dear brothers... In the name of the Father, the Son and The Holy Spirit, I welcome you here tonight, in yet another step to fulfil our earthly mission. I will now read from the Gospel of our Lord, Jesus Christ.’ In unison, all the monks knelt to the ground and lowered their heads.
‘Coming forth, is the Antichrist! He who will rule for a thousand years, if not stopped in my name. Killed he can be, yet a ghost he is. Give him flesh and mortal he becomes. The Beast calls upon his demons. He opens a seal and the seal says kill the unjust, the liars, the hypocrites. Send them to me! And the demons yelled with joy. He opens a second seal and the seal says kill the filthy, the greedy, the swines that enjoy devouring the earth. Send them to me! And the demons yelled with joy. He opens a third seal and the seal says kill the bastards, the ones born of incest, of lust. Send them to me! And the demons yelled with joy. Finally, he opens a fourth seal. Send me murderers. And the demons yelled with joy. These souls do not enter Heaven. They are owned by the Beast. When he has received, he will appear in the flesh...’ He stopped reading and all rose together. They turned and faced ‘Piggy’. Now, he could smile.
‘Let light shine out of darkness!’ he yelled, quoting from Corinthians.
Flames were born and wood started to crackle. The red river of fire swallowed up the olive logs and grew into flaming lashes. ‘Piggy’ was consumed in minutes. He contained his laughter and his desire to dance, as the sound of burning skin cracking and popping, reached his ears. The flames danced in his wide open eyes. What a glorious night.
Chapter 10
I awoke, startled by the excruciating rape of my ear. Dozens of too-happy-for-seven-in-the-morning people were screaming with joy, getting pumped up as they followed the enthusiastic fit gymnast of the Morning Show. I had forgotten that I had set my TV-alarm to go off.
Cold sweat covered my body. My last dream was Gaby’s murder. My baby girl gunned down in the street. I also dreamt of Alex Panayiotou being stabbed over and over again. The downside of possessing a visual-spatial type of brain.
I lifted myself from the sofa and looked into my bedroom. My soft bed all made up, staring at me with complaint.
‘I miss you too,’ I whispered in my rough, barbarian morning voice.
On my way to the bathroom, I pulled down my boxers and kicked them to the smelly pile of dirty linen. I leaned my hands against the wall, closed my eyes and listened to my waterfall make contact with the bog’s water. I hopped into the shower and let the man-made rain wash away all the dirt and all my thoughts. Nothing like a cold shower to get you going for the day.
I dried myself quickly and threw the wet towel onto the growing pile. I walked naked to my bedroom, opened my wardrobe and randomly picked out a pair of brown trousers, a white shirt and a brown suit jacket. I threw them on my bed and stared at myself for a moment in the full body mirror.
Am I letting myself go or is this what work and time does to you?
A running-out-my-wardrobe c
ockroach interrupted my thoughts. I swore for not wearing slippers and I swore again for cockroaches still being around this time of year. Who could blame them though? The rainy season seemed to be cancelled this year. It may still be warm enough for cockroaches, but thank God it wasn’t enough for mosquitos.
Damn you, Noah. Mosquitos? Cockroaches? Really?
Half an hour later, I was walking into HQ for the chief’s morning briefing, cockroach leftovers still stuck on my shoe. The chief enjoyed holding briefings first thing in the morning and watching everyone rush around trying to have a cup of coffee and get their shit together. Mercy for the officer who was not ready to answer any of his questions about ongoing cases.
‘Good morning, Captain.’ Sergeant Demetriou stood opposite me with her fiery red hair wrapped up in a bun.
‘Good morning, Demetriou,’ I replied, feeling bad for not knowing her first name. P.Demetriou, her name tag revealed. At her height, she had a good view of my once white shirt, now bearing evidence of my breakfast. A faint stain of coffee and a drop of honey from my baklava decorated it, just under the wrinkly collar. She pulled out a wet wipe and the smell of freshly cut lemons filled the air between us. Without asking, she wiped the two stains.
‘It will dry in a minute. The chief is already behind the lectern.’
‘Thanks...’ I mumbled and rushed to catch the elevator’s Symplegades from closing.
I pushed open the double glassed door and made a beeline for the front. A bunch of uniforms filled up the room, in their early thirties, looking all serious and professional, hiding the fact that most of them were part hungover and part half-asleep. Yesterday, was Sergeant’s Andreas –A.K.A. Party Animal- Triantafyllou thirty-fourth birthday and most of the force, partied until the morning’s first rays dug through the scattered clouds and reminded them that the night never lasts forever.
P.Demetriou passed before me and handed the chief a pile of reports and a few files.
‘Thank you, Polina,’ his gruff voice was heard. Polina. That’s it.
Polina –previously known as P.Demetriou- sat down besides me.
‘You missed a hell of a party,’ she said, noticing me gazing at the stupid grins everybody was exchanging.
‘Work...’
She smiled. ‘All work and no play...’
‘Settle down. Let’s get things going. Mary?’ the chief’s deep voice echoed through the vast room.
Mary was already situated by the black, Toshiba laptop that was connected to the room’s projector. She flicked through images as the chief discussed the surge in car thefts. Captain Mike Michael stood up and gave the latest on his case. Then, closure on the murder of housewife Andrianna Katerchidou. Yes, the husband did it. The bank robbery was next, followed by the gang rape in Katexaki Park. The girl was only nineteen. What a great city.
‘Salamina!’ the lost-some-weight-lately chief announced and pulled me out of my thoughts about the sinful city.
‘That is where, most of you are going today!’
Everyone sat up straight, blinked a few times and cursed inside. Swearing for being wrong. Most were looking forward to a quiet day patrolling or even better with paperwork behind a desk. Their bodies craved for sleep and coffee.
‘We have two people reported missing on the island and Captain Papacosta’s murder case. You will split up into three teams. First team will go door to door in Salamina town where the five year old girl went missing, the other door to door in Aianteio village where our forty year old was last seen and the remaining team will search the area around the ditch where the murder victim was found. Now, Costa, Gianni take the mic, my fucking leg is killing me,’ he grunted and plodded down the two steps and fell back into his chair. The black-suited, silver head always sat in the same chair. It was the same as all the other chairs in the room, but it was his. And that’s how he liked it. Without asking, Mary brought him over his second-for-the-day Greek coffee.
I nodded to Captain Gianni Antoniou to go first. His tree trunk legs shook the two steps and we all got a view of his sweat forming a darker shade of grey, all down his back. He filled out his clothes to the point of no return. Undoubtedly, the biggest guy on the force. He laid his colossal hands on the lectern and his sausage fingers ran through his notes. He looked up. He owned a face that could inspire a cartoonist to create a masterpiece. Big round face, pointy ears, eyes too close to each other. However, to much surprise, he was quite the ladies man. After his second divorce, he dedicated his efforts to pretty, young Russian girls, much to the HQ’s man power’s envy. Every other Saturday, he would stroll into Odyssey Bar, next to Head Quarters, introducing a Svetlana, a Tatyana or an Alina.
He cleared his sore, tar-filled throat. A chain smoker since high school, Gianni was the type of guy that made me glad, my daughter Gaby had persuaded me to quit smoking. Endless coughing, yellow teeth, sick-looking fingernails and a good ten years added to his face.
‘Thomas Aristopoulou. Age 42. Big shot lawyer. His office is just down the road from here. Went to Salamina two days ago for business. In the village Aianteio. Hasn’t been seen since.’ Big Gianni always spoke like a telegraph when in front of an audience. Unless, he had a beer in one hand, a cigar in the other and was telling a rude, sexist joke.
A well-presented, youthful forty year old with blue eyes, appeared on the wall screen opposite us. Overweight, but a good looking bloke who took care of himself. ‘Reported missing by the wife, father of two primary school boys.’ The projector clicked and ticked and a blonde little girl with faint freckles on her high cheekbones, was smiling at us with a wide grin that revealed her missing teeth. ‘Anna Mikropoulou. Age 5. Reported missing by her mother, yesterday morning. Could have been gone all the previous night. They were staying at Salamis Bed and Breakfast. Two went to bed, one woke up there.’ He cleared his throat again. ‘You will each take the photo shown and turn every rock and tree, and knock on every door. Someone must have seen them. I will interview the mother again. Lieutenant Theodorou, you will be in charge of overseeing the search for the missing lawyer.’
‘Aye, Captain,’ Theodorou stood up, nodded and sat back down.
Just as he lifted his right trunk to turn, I asked ‘Is either case church related?’
The Captain processed my question as he turned back round. There was a slight rumble in the room, put to death by the chief’s be quiet cough.
‘How... erm.. How did you know?’
‘Suspicion. So are they?’
‘The lawyer was meeting with a client who was suing the church over land disagreements. His client claimed to own titles for land owned by the church.’
The chief’s eyes focused on me. Studying me. Trying to get inside my head.
‘And the mother of the missing girl?’ I continued.
‘When I interviewed her, she had a priest with her. She said he was her pneumatiko, her spiritual father. She came to Salamina to confess.’
‘Confess what?’
‘Having a child out of wedlock.’
‘I see...’ and my mind’s engine went into overdrive.
I was up next. Alex Panayiotou. His brutalized face appeared on the white wall. I walked them through the case; what the mother said, what the boss said, the coroner, the monastery. I described the area where the body was found. I read disappointed faces of sleepless officers, realizing that they would be spending their day, under the sun, on a hill slope, looking in the bushes, bagging pieces of rubbish. I presented them with my awkward I-am-done smile and wished them a good day. I fell back into my chair, words and pictures swirling around the corners of my mind.
The chief stood up and ordered everybody to their duties. They all scattered like cockroaches when the light switched on. Mary and her laptop left last. As the door shut behind her hourglass figure, the chief came and sat down beside me. He did not say a word. His method of getting things out of you. He did not even look at you. He just sat there until you spoke. A method he used in his prime days as a homicide inves
tigator, back when people were arguing about who was better. Michael Jackson or Prince?
‘I know you hate hunches. I know you hate it when I say a have a feeling about this. But, come on, when was the last time Salamina ever had a murder and two disappearances in a matter of days? Never, that’s when. And that abbot. Oh, I don’t trust that abbot. And I am sure, even though without evidence, that Alex was there. I need a warrant to enter the place.’
‘No judge will give you a warrant to search a monastery, especially based on a feeling.’ He mocked the last word.
‘No, but any judge would give you a warrant.’
He smiled. ‘I like your balls, Papacosta, but go get me some evidence, any evidence, and I’ll get you your warrant.’
Not all can be grown here...
Chapter 11
Car. Port. Ferry. Little police station on the prairie. You know the drill.
Presentable Jason was waiting outside. A wrapped package, held tight, under his right armpit. Floral pink wrapping paper? The present was not from him. He hopped in the car.
‘Good morning, Captain. Lovely day today, is it not? Though it should rain one of these days; the crops need their water. How are you today, Captain?’
So you talk when nervous. I decided to put him out of his misery.
‘Your mum sent me a present?’
He went from a blush to a mature tomato red.
‘You are a great detective. Yes, she knitted you a cover for your coffee table.’
He passed me the neatly wrapped package and turned beet-root red.
‘Thank her dearly from me. And stop being embarrassed. Greek mothers must do what Greek mothers do!’
Red boy and Grinning Captain drove through the countryside discussing rural villages and their rustic way of life in the bucolic setting. The mountains that made up our horizon were cloaked in green and their peaks shrouded in white clouds. Clouds, but no rain. A November acting like a September.
The Church Murders: A stand-alone thriller (Greek Island Mysteries Book 2) Page 4