The Church Murders: A stand-alone thriller (Greek Island Mysteries Book 2)

by Luke Christodoulou

  ‘Say goodbye to your nasty necrophiliac cock!’

  The sizzling sound of the acid gave his attackers shivers down their spines. They enjoyed watching him scream in silence. Alexis’s eyes were at their largest and tears of pain formed a steady flowing river down his cheeks. The wood served its purpose well. They were alone on the beach, however they could not risk upsetting the quiescent bats.

  ‘Let’s put him out of his misery.’

  That was the last thing Alexis ever heard. They both stabbed him with broken beer bottles left by teenagers and love making couples in the cave. His throat was torn open and his chest disappeared under a pool of blood.

  Chapter 27

  I awoke drained. Even the gossamer hotel pillow could not prevent my neck from aching. We had spent the previous day processing the crime scene in the cave. Lights were set up, bats were forced to stay outside and we worked until the clock struck three in the morning. Ioli looked worse off than me. She always took pride in not being one of those women who act helpless during those days of the month. But now, every muscle in her body vibrated beneath her skin. Her period, once a steady flow for a couple of days, seemed to drag on and on. On top of all, her throat felt sore and her nose gave the first signs of a cold.

  Today was not going to be any easier.

  While we were in the cave, Constable Christina visited the victim’s house. Everything looked normal, as normal as an art teacher’s house could be, but the stench from upstairs, smelled anything but normal. The whole house reeked of death. With her gun extended in front of her, Christina slowly walked up the stairs. She stood in shock, having pushed open the door of the master bedroom. Sitting up in bed, dressed in new clothes, lay a woman’s corpse. A very old corpse. Blood had not flown through her for months; her dark purple skin had disintegrated to the bone. Eyes and hair were long gone and her remaining nails were ready to fall off.

  A video recorder set up, all alone on the bedside table. Calm as she could be in such a situation, Christina wore her gloves and picked up the device. Moments later, she had regretted pressing play. Alexis Callis had filmed all his sexual encounters with his dead companions. Christina’s stomach could not handle anymore. She ran to the toilet and released her fish and mashed potatoes. The video kept on playing. An over excited Alexis Callis came all over the corpse’s face, gave it a gentle kiss and carried the body away.

  ‘You were good, baby! Another one for my yard collection!’ he joyfully said.

  Yes, today was not going to be any easier.

  Today, we and the local police were going to dig up the old man’s garden. Soon, we were going to be faced with all the bodies he did not return.

  The uncomfortable silence broken only by the sound of our shovels. No one spoke. Maybe, we were all too afraid of losing our breakfast in front of strangers.

  Ioli dug away. She seemed the toughest, yet her insides screamed in disgust. It sickened her to the core that someone would steal a body from its resting ground and violate it in such a gruesome manner.

  We pulled twelve bodies out of the soil, most tangled up amongst tomatoes and carrots. Eight women, three men and a teenager. The teenager was the last straw for Ioli. She cursed as she walked far away from the scene and headed down to the beach. She sat on a large rock and let the tears loose. She cried, ignoring the picture-postcard sky opposite her. Her tears had dried by the time I sat beside her.

  ‘There’s too much evil in the world,’ she said, her make-up smeared in the corners of her eyes.

  ‘And it’s our job to lessen it by catching the bad guys.’

  ‘But it never stops. It’s like Lernaia Hydra. You chop one head off and two grow in its place. We have been here for a few days and body after body after body...’ She exhaled deeply. ‘And my mind is driving me crazy. In Chania, family and friends kept my mind away from my job. I feel like we are living... death, twenty four seven.’

  ‘We are all driven crazy by our thoughts. I know what you mean. When I was married, no matter what my eyes saw during the day, I could always count on unwinding at home with Stacy and Gaby. Now, the job is all I have. And the longer you live alone, the right side of your brain speaks louder and more often to you. Don’t stay single too long, Cara.’

  ‘Last thing on my mind at the moment...’

  Witnessing death and chasing murderers can haunt you for life. But Ioli Cara was one tough cookie. She would one day learn to balance this life with a married life.

  Chapter 28

  Dr. Ariadne Metaxa’s office

  ‘You talk with great admiration whenever you speak about Ioli,’ Ariadne pointed out, stroking her chin.

  ‘One of the best human beings I have ever met,’ I smiled.

  ‘She is not your daughter.’ She uttered the words and watched them take effect.

  ‘I don’t need to fill the gap. I would have been drawn to Ioli and be fond of her, even if Gaby were still alive.’

  ‘What about the gap Stacy left?’

  ‘For the best. I was married for over twenty years. Marriage has its ups and downs and now I enjoy being alone.’

  ‘You got married once. The idea of growing old with someone is not appealing to you anymore?’

  I looked away. After Gaby’s death, I had lost the will to live. I decided to dedicate myself to work, to my dangerous job. Leave this world, having done some good. Ariadne leaned forward, waiting for an answer.

  ‘I’ll grow old with my job.’

  ‘That sounds normal to you?’

  ‘What is normal?’

  ‘I must admit that the boundaries of normal are forever changing. However, working yourself to death is not the best of plans.’

  ‘For the time being, it’s my only plan.’

  ‘It’s up to you to make more.’

  Awkward silence.

  ‘Shall I get back to the story?’

  ‘Oh, yes. You skipped a part, though. How did you discover the necrophiliac’s body in that cave?’

  ‘I was going to get there. A fisherman called it in. From his boat, he saw two men attack another and drag him into a cave. He had no phone or radio, so he called it in hours later.’

  ‘Not very clever of him to be out at sea with no means of communication.’

  I shrugged. ‘We visited the fisherman after leaving the beach. After we both had scalding showers and wore lavender-smelling clothes, that is. Anything to get rid of the smell of death.’

  ‘How is it to have death, right there, in front of you?’

  ‘It gets to you eventually. You never get used to it. You just learn to cope with it better.’

  Chapter 29

  The majestic winter sky sailed above. A bright spot for sore eyes that witnessed too much death. A few puffy clouds shined orange as they swam across the clear sky. The fisherman lived alone in a little, wooden hut built on his field of olive trees, meters from the sea and his life’s companion, his fishing boat. The gates were open and we drove in. He expected us, after having called in the attack. He sat on a green wooden bench, underneath a large, towering, centenarian olive tree. A familiar figure sat beside him.

  I parked the car and wondered where their cars were. The fisherman, a grey haired man in his early fifties, jumped up and opened two picnic chairs opposite the old, rustic bench.

  ‘Father Agvoustino,’ I said and nodded him hello.

  ‘Captain, Miss Ioli,’ his serene voice left his lips. ‘I should be on my way. Christo needed someone to talk to. He felt bad, having not reported the attack earlier.’

  ‘Maybe the good old teacher would still be alive,’ Christo said.

  ‘The good old teacher was a necrophiliac and had stolen bodies buried in his yard,’ Ioli cut to the chase. Christo’s huge, turquoise eyes opened wide and his jaw fell to the ground. Disgust and disbelief painted Father Avgoustino’s face. Both looked as if they had something to say, but had difficulty finding the right words. It’s not every day that you learn about your neighbor’s secret life.
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br />   ‘Can I offer you something to drink?’ the fisherman kindly asked. Ioli and I both refused with a shake of the hand and a faint smile.

  ‘Father?’

  ‘I must be going, my child. The hour is late and I have to be at the homeless shelter for dinner time.’

  ‘Are there many homeless?’ Ioli asked. An island of 17000 with a homeless shelter?

  He smiled and looked up to meet the tall girl’s brown eyes. ‘No, thank God. We just call it that. Only a couple of people staying there, but we ran it for all. We feed many families in need. Now, with the crisis, things are tight for everyone. I make sure they know Jesus is there for them.’

  She nodded with apathy and turned to sit down.

  ‘Maybe you would like to come, my child?’ he continued.

  ‘Who? Me?’ Ioli asked, slightly confused.

  ‘Yes. You have a storm going on in your soul. Many things tormenting you. Helping others is the best therapy.’

  ‘Thanks for the offer, but I have work. I help others by catching the real evil ones out there.’

  ‘Too much death, too much evil for such young eyes. Don’t let Satan get the best of you. Have a good evening,’ he said, bowed his head and turned. Ioli watched in silence as the old man walked up to the main road.

  ‘Is he walking back to town?’ I asked the fisherman.

  ‘Oh, yes. Father Avgoustino always walks. Keeps him healthy. He says our body was given to us by God and we must respect it. It is our temple in which He lives.’ He looked up and made sure Father Agvoustino was out of sight. ‘And now he is gone, I can fill up my temple with some Assos smoke.’ He placed the cigarette between his lips. He spoke as he lit the little, delicious, cancer stick. ‘My grandfather used to work for Papastratos Tobacco back in the late forties. Finest Greek cigarettes, he used to say. Please, sit.’

  ‘Christo, you called the police station around ten o’clock last night. But you said that you had been out at sea. What time did the incident take place? What exactly did you see?’

  He took in more Assos smoke. His cigarette came alive at its end, glowing red. He exhaled a dark cloud of smoke that scattered in the light breeze and headed to sea.

  ‘It must have been near seven. I am not sure how far out I was, but I have good eyes, I can assure you. I was day dreaming, watching the shore getting further and further away. I saw a man jogging along the beach. I was ready to turn and captain my boat to deeper waters, when I saw two men jump him and hit him over the head. The man fell to the ground and they picked him up and took him into one of those little caves behind the beach. I cursed when I realized that I had left my cell phone at home...’ He bowed, ashamed to look us in the eye. ‘I... I thought of the price of gas and I did not want any trouble, so at first I headed out to sea, but I couldn’t fish. My mind was on the attack. I felt bad as a human, you know? So I returned to shore, drove home and called the police.’ He lifted his shaking right hand and saw that his cigarette was just a tower of ash. He threw it aside and lit another.

  ‘Don’t beat yourself...’ I started to say, but Ioli had no time for a comfort talk.

  ‘Can you describe the two men, Mr. Christo?’ she asked.

  ‘Well... Not really. I was quite far out. Two shadowy figures attacking another. All I can say is that one was much larger than the other. Both in height and in weight.’

  ‘Color of clothes? Type of clothes?’

  ‘All looked dark as the sun dipped in the ocean. Probably wearing jeans or trousers.’ His smoke came my way. I was getting annoyed with my smoking addiction for fooling me. I thought I had beaten it. Now, I was craving a cigarette so badly. I felt like a chocoholic tied to a chair watching as everyone walked past him, Nutella jar in hand. I tilted my chair backwards and took a deep breath of clean air. The fresh air from the lemon trees around us gave me a sense of healthy living and kicked my craving to the kerb. Now, if only it would stay there.

  ‘If you remember anything, call me at once,’ Ioli said politely, passed him her card and got up. By the time I had shaken his hand, she was already behind the steering wheel, eager to get back to the scene. She had the itch. All investigators get it. You get too close to your case and you cannot relax until your case is closed. Even then it is hard letting go.

  Chapter 30

  A good detective is nothing without a good lab team; truth must be said. Before the advance of technology, many cases were left unsolved or worse, the wrong person took the heat. Great investigators lived back then, but sometimes, brains weren’t enough.

  The next day, Ioli and I stood above a table of evidence and a bunch of new results from Athens’ lab. We pretty much knew the story. Now we had the backing of DNA and fingerprints. A wife drugged her cheating husband, a carpenter shot her and hung the mistress, a necrophiliac murdered the carpenter and two attackers brutally killed the necrophiliac.

  ‘Someone is orchestrating this...’ I whispered, leaning over the gruesome pictures. Each murderer getting murdered by the next.

  ‘An evil mastermind? How...’ Ioli started to ask before shouting out ‘Bingo!’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Well, why didn’t I open you first?’ she asked, holding a brown envelope sent from our labs. ‘The hairs collected from the necrophiliac were identified. He’s in the system. Andrew Kontos. Age 17. He got into a serious bar fight last year and was arrested.’

  ‘Let’s go pay Andrew a visit, then.’

  ‘You don’t sound pleased.’

  ‘Well, it’s not evidence that will hold up in court. He could say, he was in the cave with a girl or with mates the previous day. We need to get hard evidence...’

  ‘Or a confession! Come on, let’s go and get this kid’s story.’

  The weather continued behaving like my ex during her pregnancy. One day all bright, the next dark and gloomy. The sun had taken the day off. The sky was painted charcoal black all over. The clouds had united into one big menacing carpet and began pouring it down.

  The Kontou house rose in front of us, at the end of a z-shaped country road, just on the outskirts of the capital. Farms of decades past, gave way to two-storey homes built by developers to house the younger generation of home buyers. Couples looking for a nest for their love to bloom and to bring offspring into the world. Couples like Maria and George Kontou. Now, in their early forties and parents of two boys and two girls. The oldest being Andrew, our newly found suspect.

  I parked outside the Kontou family home and dreaded the long run up to the door.

  ‘Want the blue or the black umbrella?’ Ioli asked, leaning to the back seats where she had placed the borrowed items from the police station.

  ‘You are a star,’ I said, using my grandma’s line. Ioli gently punched me on my shoulder.

  ‘And don’t you ever forget it. I’ll take the blue one. Meet you at the door.’ She leaped out the car, slamming the door behind her. The howling wind pulled her a few steps forward as she opened her umbrella. She cursed the rain and then stepping into a muddy puddle she cursed again. I had more success, my weight able to defy Borea’s gusty, blustery attacks.

  We stood under the protection provided by the front porch pergola. The loud TV and childrens’ laughter filled the house. After catching her breath, Ioli rang the doorbell.

  ‘Turn that TV down, you two,’ a woman’s voice commanded. Her voice brought on no change to the ongoing noise pollution. ‘Barbie in Fairytopia’ kept on booming. The brown wooden door opened to reveal a forty year old housewife. She looked like she had been yanked out of a fifties washing powder commercial; with her curly hair tied up with an orange bandana, her nails painted red, her white apron tied around her waist and flat shoes covering her feet. She held a duster and wore a wide, bright smile. Until she saw us. Taken aback, her smile faded and her lips fell flat. Saturday morning as it was, she expected it to be a neighbor, ready for a hot Greek coffee and even hotter and steamier gossip.

  ‘What is it with Jehovah Witnesses and Saturday mornings?
Can’t you see the sticker?’

  The oval sticker warned: ORTHODOX CHRISTIANS LIVE HERE. NO VISITS BY JEHOVAH WITNESSERS OR MEMBERS OF OTHER HERESIES. More instructions followed on the next sticker. ΝΟ DOOR TO DOOR SALES.

  ‘Not here to preach or sell,’ Ioli replied dryly.

  ‘Hellenic Police, ma’am. I am Captain Costa Papacosta and this is Lieutenant Ioli Cara. Is your son Andrew home?’

  Her eyes widened and flashed in the same way a lioness’ would if you went near her cubs. ‘What do you want with my boy?’

  ‘We are here to question him about his whereabouts yesterday. Is he home? Can we come in and talk?’ I asked.

  ‘Come in,’ she said reluctantly. We followed her into the living room, where two girls were dancing away. They both froze at the sight of strangers. Maria Kontou switched the TV off and ordered them to their room.

  ‘And tell Andrew to get his ass down here! Now!’ Normally the girls would have giggled at the sound of the word ass, but something in their mother’s tone warned them that this was not a laughing matter. Maria opened a large side window overlooking the back yard and called out to her husband to bring the same body part as of her son into the house too. George Kontou spent his morning in the shed, tidying up his tools at his wife’s command. Maria’s strong voice had no trouble traveling through the rain, defying the downpour and the thunder and reaching her husband’s ears. In a matter of minutes, introductions were made, lemonade and coffee were offered and a guilty-looking teen sat between his parents on the well-worn family sofa. We sat on two high back armchairs opposite them.

  Andrew was a very tall, thin, light brown haired kid. He stood out between his much shorter parents. His two large turquoise eyes shined like gem stones amongst his acne-ridden face. He placed his hands on his lap and could not stop scratching his knuckles. He took one look at us and for the rest of the time, kept his eyes focused on the floor. If guilty needed a picture for the dictionary, Andrew would be it.

  ‘Andrew, you have nothing to fear,’ Ioli tried to calm the youth down with a friendly smile. ‘We only want to know your whereabouts yesterday evening.’