We arrived in Kaki Vigla and took the only two-way road the village had. Papageorgiou supermarket was open for business. Hopefully, their son would be in, too.
I pulled up in one of the six, white painted rectangles that served as the store’s parking lot. Two elderly ladies were exiting the store, wheeling behind them their groceries for the week. Green veggies sprouted out of their bags, as they complained about sore feet and drowsiness from the new yellow pills.
‘Perhaps you’re not supposed to take them with your pink pills. What did the doctor say?’ her friend with more moles than teeth asked.
‘He just gives me pills and says ‘‘one-morning-evening-night” and sends me on my way. At 92, I think he doesn’t expect me to be back, but there I am every month to fill up my stock of favorite pills! I have enough to make a rainbow!’
They both laughed. Humor. Best medicine available. And with that thought, we entered the quite-large-for-a-village grocery.
‘It serves all the nearby villages,’ Jason declared, having read the look on my face as I gazed at the variety-filled aisles. His voice intruded the Greek hits of the eighties that echoed through the store. Golden oldies flowing out through creaking, once white, speakers that hung in all four corners of the vast shop. In the right hand corner was a counter where cigarettes and magazines were sold. An office visible behind it. A man stood there, studying delivery reports, his eyes moving rapidly behind thick, beige reading glasses. He had the mustache of a past era porn star which was lifted by a friendly smile that welcomed us as we approached.
‘Mr Papageorgiou, I am Jason Galanos...’
‘Oh, Demetris’s son...yes.’
‘We are here on a police matter. This is Captain Papacosta. He needs to ask your son a few questions.’
His smile dropped and his bushy, grey eyebrows met.
‘Nico? What has Nico done? He is a good boy...’
‘He did not do anything, sir. Relax. I just need to ask him if he saw a man who has been reported missing.’
He studied me for a second, with that disapproving look villagers give strangers that they do not trust.
‘Wait in the office.’ He nodded to the open door behind him. ‘I’ll go and get my son.’
We both sat on the magnolia two-seater that began from one wall and ended on the next. Opposite us was a desk, filled with papers and accounting books and family photos sealed away in shiny frames. A small coffee table filled the room between the sofa and the desk; a coffee table that soon hosted two ice cold, homemade lemonades, a plate of chocolate filled biscuits and a plate of watermelon pieces swimming in honey flavored syrup. Greek hospitality provided by the owner’s wife who entered with a forced smile and a worried look. She wished us a good day, left the plastic tray and rushed back to work.
Just as bitter lemon froze my upper lip, Mr Papageorgiou walked in towering a sixteen year old boy; holding him firmly by the shoulders. The boy had messed up brown hair and wore a weird grin that revealed his needing-a-brush braces.
‘This is Nico. Nico say hi,’ he told the boy as if he was talking to a toddler.
‘Hi,’ the teen said and giggled.
‘I am Captain Papacosta...’
‘Hi,’ he said and giggled again.
‘Is something amusing you?’
‘Don’t get him wrong. Nico is a special boy. He is always happy.’ The father explained to me in a subtle way, what I later read in the boy’s school file. Nico was never going to progress mentally past the age of five. I showed him the photograph of Alex Panayiotou and asked if he had seen the man before. He shook his head from side to side to state a no.
‘Thank you for your time,’ Jason stood up.
I flashed the boy the photograph of the missing girl, much to Jason’s surprise. Again the violent shaking of the head. Next was the lawyer’s photograph.
‘No, no, never seen Piggy.’
‘Now, Nico. That isn’t very nice, is it? Are we done, Captain?’
I stood up, mechanically shook his hand and walked out the office; disappointed. I picked up a pack of Malboro and a cheap lighter, threw a ten Euro note on the counter and exited the supermarket. Jason found me with one of my gluteus maximus on the car’s warm hood. I took a long drag, making its end turn into an orange-tipped flame. I let the smoke swirl around my lungs before releasing the air through my nose.
‘Whose were those photos...’
‘Don’t you ask me shit, boy. You know these people. Why the heck did you not tell me that Nico was not all there?’
He paused. He wore an expression hard to read. He seemed to be counting. He reminded me of my anger-management uncle Phil. Counting to ten to relax was his panacea. Ok, so you’re angry too!
‘Sir, with all due respect, Nico is an excellent young man, capable of answering a simple have you seen this man question! And he is all there! He is as God made him, he plays basketball, he likes music...’
I lifted my palm, asking him to stop.
‘I’m sorry, Jason. You are not to blame. Nico is not to blame either.’ More smoke. ‘The photos are of two missing people, last seen here on the island.’
‘Really? First time I am hearing about this...’
‘Neither was reported missing to the police here in Salamina, but in Athens. The lawyer’s wife went to her local police station and the girl’s mother called central. Anyway, let’s get going to check up on the search party.’
I drove slowly through the striking village, left mostly untouched since Greece had a king. I could see Nico in my rear view mirror, speeding along on his black mountain bike with grocery bags on each side of the handlers. He zoomed pass us, singing: ‘Piggy’s gonna burn, piggy’s gonna burn, la la la lala, piggy’s gonna burn!’
‘Piggy. That’s what he called the lawyer!’ I stepped on the gas, overtook the cheery adolescent and came to a cloud-of-smoke, tire-screeching halt. I got out and ran to block his way.
‘Nico, Nicoooo,’ I called him to me.
He froze in front of me, his trembling eyes looking up into mine.
‘Who told you Piggy’s going to burn?’
He looked left and right and shivered realizing he was alone on the street with me. I raised my voice.
‘Who told you Piggy is going to burn? Answer me!’
Tears started to fall. ‘Sir?’ Jason asked, standing by the car’s open door.
‘Tell me,’ I yelled.
‘No! No! I can’t! I can’t! I can’t!’
‘Why Nico? Why can’t you tell me?’
‘The abbot said no police.’ The words fell out between the awkward giggles.
‘The abbot?’ I let go of his bike’s rubber handlebars and let him pedal off to the old lady who ordered the groceries.
I knew it!
‘Come on, come on... Pick up... Chief! It’s Papacosta. It’s the abbot. The kid recognized the lawyer. We need a warrant quick, they could still be alive!’
Chapter 12
The last sunrays of the day had sunk into the ocean. Orange and red waves turned dark blue. The night rolled in. The mountains around us silent and black. The flickering blue lights from the horde of police cars, flashing round and round, making shadows dance across the hills. Like a slithering snake, the line of patrol cars headed up the narrow dirt road towards the gloomy monastery. One after one, the cars came to a standstill as armed policemen exited them and prepared to storm into the building.
The gate was open. Inside darkness; quiet as a grave. The light had left and taken the wind with it. I went in first, gun steady between both my hands, flashlights from the men and women behind me showing me the way through inky trees that stood similar to soldiers under inspection. The smell of smoke reached us, blended with the ghastly odor of burnt flesh. Suddenly, we were faced with an image none of us would ever be able to remove from our minds. Every circle of light revealed a body. Cloaked in brown, all you could see was their faces. Hollow eyes, mouth violently wide open, all facial muscles stretched and dist
orted. Blood dripping from their noses formed crimson rivers from their ears. The lights moved around. Bodies everywhere. Small, see-through vials lay on the concrete ground in front of them.
Poison.
Polina located the main switch and the overhead spotlights came to life. We all froze at the sight of the smoking, charcoal body glued by burning skin to the stake. His mouth screaming out without flesh to cover his teeth. The fire had burned so hot, it reached his bones.
If this was the lawyer...
‘Find the girl! Find the girl! Look everywhere!’ Half the force scattered through the trees or entered the cells and church. The other half checked the bodies for signs of life. Twenty two dead and counting.
The abbot’s body was crouched over a thick, leather covered book. He had decorated it with his bloody saliva; his wrinkly fingers holding on tight. I wore my latex gloves and, finger by finger, I removed the heavy book from his grasp. Could this be the gospel of Christ? I carefully placed it in a large evidence bag and called over Polina Demetriou. Someone I could trust. I ordered her to get it quickly back to our labs and notify the chief. He would know what experts to call in. She managed a faint smile upon her ashen face and sped off to carry out her task.
They knew we were coming...
‘I avoid such sweet temptations... The supermarkets owner’s son is an altar boy... It is a brave choice to lock yourself away from the world... I love that I lived my whole life here. I know everyone and everyone knows me. People here are closer to their roots, their land, their church, their traditions... He is as God made him,’ Jason’s voice echoed out of the darkest parts of my mind. He never spoke to the monks. He grew up close to the church. He mentioned Nico was an altar boy, but made no reference to his situation. He was nervous whenever we drove up to the monastery or talked about the monks. I turned and searched for Sergeant Galanos. He stood motionless as a statue, unable to come forward and accept the images his eyes were receiving. I walked slowly towards him, noticing silent tears running freely down his cheeks.
‘You ok?’
No reply.
‘Captain! We have her! We found her! She’s alive!’
‘Get the paramedics here fast! She has been poisoned!’
Sergeant Mikropoulos held a police blanket in his arms. Blonde hair spilt out the top. Two small, scared blue eyes, gazing through the darkness. That is when I heard Galanos move. I spun around in a heartbeat to see him, pointing his firearm towards the girl. I blocked his view.
‘Move out the way, Captain or I will blow your head wide open. The girl must die or everyone’s death will be in vain!’
‘She is a four year old girl!’
‘She is a bastard! Now, move!’
His yelling made heads turn and guns were pulled out.
‘Jason, please. Lower your gun....’
‘Shut it! You know nothing! We could have defeated the Antichrist. Oh, don’t you all look at me like I am crazy. It is all in the book of our Savior! You will see, when you read it! With their deaths, they would have completed the four seals! The girl should have died!’
‘She didn’t like the horrid soup she was served, you fucking freak,’ Sergeant Mikropoulos spat out with disgust. The girl had taken one sip and left the rest of the soup untouched. The monks had failed.
Jason looked around him. The hate on the faces staring back at him. Guns ready to send him to meet his maker.
‘When you are ready, my child, come and find,’ he quoted from the so-called Gospel of Christ and put his gun in his mouth.
‘Nooo,’ I yelled, but my voice was drowned out by the gunshot that put a hole through Jason’s skull, sending parts of his brain into the air and coloring the lemon tree behind him with stains of fresh blood. His body fell to the dirt, bringing the total body count to thirty-five. Thirty-three monks, a lawyer and a poor boy that had his head screwed up and turned into scrabbled eggs.
It took all night to tag and bag the bodies. We needed two morgues to store them all.
The first ray of sun travelled through the darkness and put an end to the nightmare of a night. It found me, up high on the ferry, wiping away a lonely tear. The morning breeze not strong enough to take away the smell of death that covered the boat. We all helped the paramedics load the bodies into the ambulances lined up along the pier. All major news outlets were set up, held back by a thin, yellow tape dancing in the wind. Serious looking, smart talking, well dressed people stood in front of cameras and described the scene. Shots of flashing cameras echoed across the port and newspaper reporters shouted questions to anyone in uniform.
In a zombie like state, we all got into our patrol cars, drove back to Headquarters, took a shower -some two- and headed to the canteen for breakfast. No one spoke a word. We ate in silence. No one left until I dragged myself up and pushed open the glass door.
On my desk, just as I had requested, the files of the monks’ history. Birth certificates, medical reports, past convictions, everything. All the puzzle pieces quickly fell together. The abbot, known outside of the monastery’s walls as Giannis Keraunos, had mental issues and suffered from violent outbursts since primary school. A great leader, indeed.
Five monks were left-handed.
They all stabbed Alex once, making them all murderers.
Jason’s file was there too. Straight A student, role model in his society; I pushed all the files onto the floor. My computer took a flight out of the open window and met the parking lot below.
Chapter 13
Dr. Ariadne Metaxa’s office
‘And that is how I ended up being forced to talk to you!’
‘So, according to their holy book, if the girl died, the Antichrist would arrive? I’m confused. Is that something they wanted?’
‘After explaining the four seals, the book went to reveal specific ways to kill the Antichrist. Anyway, it was all just a bunch of bull. The book has been dated to 1200 A.D. Even if it was copied from an earlier book, experts have singled out words in the text not used during Jesus’ lifetime. The monks were misled by a psycho who enjoyed killing.’
Dr. Ariadne scribbled down a few lines in her purple notebook and looked up at me.
‘So the denouement of the case came at a terrible cost.’
‘The what?’
‘The resolution of the mystery.’
‘Are we back to talking about closure? Yes, I have accepted my faults, Jason’s death and I have moved on.’
‘You sure about that, Captain?’
I smiled. ‘As sure as I am about most things.’
More scribbling in her notebook.
‘Don’t forget your water,’ she reminded me for the third time with her mellifluous voice. She had one rule. While in session, her patients had to drink a minimal of four full glasses of room temperature water. Apparently, it helped the mind. My mind yearned for beer during hot days and whiskey during the cold ones. The ice in my whiskey was made of water, but I doubt Dr Ariadne would approve of my habits. I drank my water and gazed out of the glass wall. The port was in full swing. It was a funny sensation to see all the commotion, yet not hear a single sound.
‘22nd of December today,’ she said and, as always, I could sense her eyes reading me.
‘Yes, a Monday,’ I commented, avoiding the question behind her statement.
She smiled that unique smile only seen by mothers when they hear something clever from their smart-ass offspring.
‘How are you spending Christmas, Captain?’
Flashes from last year’s pitiful Christmas spawned and played like a trailer in my inner home theatre. Me and a bunch of divorced guys from work at Archontiko Bar, eating pub food and drinking cheap beer.
‘Home, alone. Not really one for festivities.’
‘It is a good time to unwind and replace horrid images with other ones, more pleasant.’
‘If I manage to wake up early, I might go to church. Sit there for a while, then grab a meal and head home.’
‘Do you find goi
ng to church helpful?’
‘I think I go out of habit. My mother, like most Greek mothers, woke us up every Sunday and took us. Now, I do my best to make it, on the important dates. You?’
It was the first time I had asked her a personal question.
‘Oh, I’m an Atheist. No higher powers out there for me. But, professionally speaking, I must admit that in the right cases, church going has helped with patients of mine. I love cooking for everyone on Christmas. A few family members and a couple of close friends...’
‘How very Hannibal Lecter of you!’ I joked and managed to hear the doctor’s unique laughter. A very restrained laughter, but still laughter.
‘You should join us...’ Her eyes were reading me again.
‘Do you invite all your patients to parties?’
‘No, just the special ones.’
‘I’ll think about it. Thank you.’
Thunder swallowed my last words and lightning drew our attention to the outside world. Soon, fat rain drops were falling in their thousands. We sat in silence, admiring nature. She enjoyed the rain as much as I did.
Chapter 14
The phone would not stop ringing.
It felt like hours had passed as my arm searched for my bedside table. My cell phone the only light in my dark bedroom.
‘Hello?’ More of a grunt than a word.
‘Good morning, Captain and a happy fucking new year to us both!’
‘Ioli?’ I sat up. Her laughter echoed in my ears as I rubbed my deprived of sleep, black bagged, eyes.
‘It’s eleven o’clock. Thought you were an early bird.’
‘Not when I get home at five in the morning!’
‘Well, well, well... Look who’s living the wild life in the big city!’ Her annoying nudge found its way to my shoulder-even over the phone.
‘Shut up! I was down at the bar with the rest of the no-where-better-to-go rejects from the station, just like I did on Christmas. You?’
The Church Murders: A stand-alone thriller (Greek Island Mysteries Book 2) Page 5