Murder in Mykonos

by Jeffrey Siger

  She looked at Tassos, then at Andreas. ‘Okay, bring him in and I’ll let him tell you what you want to know.’

  Manny was calmer with Katerina in the room but still clearly nervous. Andreas offered him a cigarette. He took it and that seemed to relax him a bit more. Andreas asked him to ‘please’ tell them everything that happened between the very first and last moment he was with her. Manny said he saw her only that one time and began to tell what he swore was everything he remembered.

  Manny said he’d driven her to ‘the priest’s beach.’ Andreas struggled not to speak but lost the battle after Manny said her naked romp took place directly in front of Father Paul’s house.

  ‘Did anyone else see her there?’

  Manny sounded surprised at the interruption. ‘Uhh, no, not that I could tell.’

  ‘What about the priest? Was he there?’ Andreas’ voice was pressing.

  ‘His house was dark, I didn’t see anyone. Honest.’ Manny was getting more nervous, so Andreas backed off and let him finish. It took less than five minutes because according to Manny, after coming off the beach she got back into the taxi, told him to take her to the Hotel Adlantis, and that was it.

  ‘You mean neither of you said a word to the other the entire way back to the hotel?’ Andreas sounded agitated.

  ‘Yes, sir, that’s right, except – like I told you – “Thank you.”’

  Andreas gave him a long, stern look, quickly glanced at Tassos and Katerina, then returned his focus to Manny. ‘So, what the hell were you doing all that time up there alone in the front seat?’ Andreas already knew the answer – a bit of silent self-awareness, no doubt – but wanted him to know he wasn’t fooling anyone in the room.

  Katerina spoke up. ‘Now, now, Chief, you know that’s not the kind of question you should be asking my client.’ She smiled.

  Andreas gave her a wink.

  ‘Did you ever see her with anyone?’ asked Tassos.

  ‘No.’

  ‘What about at the taxi stand when you picked her up?’ Andreas was back to a calm, friendly tone.

  ‘There was a long line. She was in it.’

  ‘Did you see her talking to anyone?’ asked Andreas.

  ‘Only Tom.’

  ‘Tom? Who’s Tom?’ asked Tassos.

  ‘The American artist, Tom Daly. He hangs out at Panos’ Place.’

  Andreas and Tassos shot each other a look.

  ‘He was standing with her in line and said good-night to her when she got in. I think they’d been together earlier.’

  ‘What do you mean “been together”?’ Andreas heard the excitement in his own voice.

  Manny shrugged. ‘Like they knew each other, that’s all.’

  ‘How well do you know the artist?’ Andreas tried to calm his tone.

  ‘Pretty well. He was teasing me not to rip her off like a tourist when she got into my taxi. He was friends with my father. They used to sit around and swap old mining stories.’

  ‘What do you mean by “mining stories”?’ asked Tassos, excitement evident in his voice.

  ‘Before my father had his shop in town he used to work in the mines out there.’ Manny pointed toward Ano Mera. ‘And Tom’s father was a coal miner in Wales before moving to the States.’

  ‘Do you still see him?’ Tassos was speaking with obviously forced restraint.

  ‘Oh, sure. Every once in a while I stop by his house, but he doesn’t seem to be there as much as when the old mine entrance was open.’

  Andreas jumped in. ‘What old mine entrance?’

  ‘The one the church is built on. Tom rents from a farmer who wanted to build a church and thought it made the most sense to put it on top of the mine. That way he wouldn’t have to excavate a place for his family’s bones. He could just use the old mine entrance as a burial chamber.’

  A chill shot through Andreas. He looked at Tassos.

  Manny’s right eye was twitching, and he started rubbing it. ‘Sorry, it’s been a long day.’

  ‘No problem. You’re being very helpful.’

  ‘Where was I? Oh, yeah, so about ten years ago the farmer built his church. Tom was pretty upset because it closed off his entrance to the mines. He spends a lot of time wandering through mines all over the world. He tells everyone it gives him inspiration.’

  ‘Inspiration for what?’ said Andreas.

  ‘I don’t know, something about those tall, blond figures in his paintings.’ Manny sounded proud of his knowledge of his friend’s work.

  Andreas glanced again at Tassos. ‘So, what’s he done since the church was built?’

  ‘We really haven’t talked about it, but I guess he’s found another way in. The mines are too important to him. He calls them his roots.’

  ‘Guys, are you done yet?’ asked Katerina, looking bored. ‘I know all this mining shit must be of deep interest to you public-servant types, but those of us who work for a living have to get back to our paying jobs.’

  Andreas smiled. ‘Just one more question. Manny, where do you think Tom is now?’

  Manny looked at his watch. ‘I don’t know. Probably off in some mine.’

  15

  Katerina and Manny had left – but not before she asked Andreas to meet her later that night at a boat leaving for a ‘pre-panegyri party.’ He said he’d let her know and joined Tassos in kissing her good-bye.

  Tassos was shaking his head. ‘So, what do you think, party boy, is the artist our new number one suspect?’

  Andreas ran his fingers through his hair, shrugged, and went to sit behind his desk. ‘He’s sure moved up on the list, but being eccentric doesn’t make you a serial killer.’

  ‘And everyone who knows him seems to know about his tall, blond-haired nymphs and the mines. Like you said, he could just be our killer’s inspiration.’ Tassos dropped back into his chair.

  Andreas stretched his arms out above his head. ‘We still have to find him – and his four missing potential disciples: Panos, Paul, Ilias, and George.’

  Tassos patted his chair. ‘What do you think about Manny?’

  Andreas nodded no. ‘I don’t think so, but we’ve got to keep an eye on him until the deputy minister’s niece is found, just to be on the safe side. After all, he’s the only suspect around to watch. Be a shame to lose him too.’ Andreas gave a sarcastic smile.

  ‘I know how you feel.’ Tassos paused. ‘Let’s head back to the artist’s place and check out the church. I know it’s not one of Father Paul’s, but I still think we should – just to be sure.’ He put his hands on the chair arms and pushed himself to his feet.

  Sure of what? thought Andreas as he stood up and walked around his desk to the door. ‘Okay, but I think you’re just trying to keep me away from Katerina’s party.’

  Tassos laughed. ‘You know, in the old days – before Mykonos had all this 24/7 nightlife – a panegyri was the only place for the locals to party.’

  Andreas grinned. ‘Like I said, you don’t want me to have a good time.’

  ‘It’s also where the unmarried met – some even eloped right from a panegyri. I’m sure Katerina knows that.’ He gave Andreas a light tap on the back of his head. ‘You’ll thank me in the morning.’

  Echoes of London had been their favorite album for waking up on a gloomy Sunday morning in Peter’s flat. John Williams – of all people – made them want to have sex. Annika rolled onto her side to feel him, to stroke him in the darkness. He wasn’t there. She wanted Peter; she wanted him very much. She thought he must be asleep on the edge of their bed and stretched out her hand but did not find him. She rolled toward him and reached again. Still no Peter, but she felt something – something familiar, like the music.

  Annika ran her fingers lightly along the hard, strong textures – all silky no matter where she touched. She felt no pain. She wanted to be closer and slid on her side to where she could press her body against the one her fingers were exploring. She felt the smooth, cool skin against her own. She pressed and released her
breasts and thighs against her companion until the tingle came between her legs, the one she wanted Peter to touch. But he wasn’t there. Only their music was with her.

  She wanted more. She forced herself to her knees and pressed her body against her newfound lover as she struggled to her feet. Her head was swooning. All she could think of was finding release. She moved to the music as she had so many times before. It felt so good – the firm, cool pressure of his body as she slid along him in a slow, torrid search for what she knew must be there.

  She found it in a place perfect for her needs. She gripped it lightly at first, more tightly when she knelt to take it in her mouth. Her tongue fluttered over it until it was as wet as she. Abruptly she stood, then paused trying to make out her lover’s face in the darkness. She could not, but no matter, she needed this. She spread her arms and legs and stepped forward to mount him and be taken. Up and down she moved, her nipples as hard as his, her inner thighs wet from how he made her feel. Faster and faster she drove herself until, screaming, she collapsed onto the floor, next to the wall.

  He was a watcher. It was his greatest pleasure. He couldn’t remember when he began watching, but it was when he was young. His sister had caught him once, then told on him.

  To his mind, the modern world was overrun by an endless rush of words. Far too many for him ever to know what was true and what was not, what was right and what was wrong. In his silent world beneath the earth he only watched – never spoke, never exchanged a smile or a nod of recognition. He showed his tributes no sign that he existed in their world – or they in his. That was how it should be. That was how he wanted it to be. That was how it was.

  He touched the scar on the head of his penis. It was a cigarette burn, like the others circling his groin. Marks from his father. For watching his sister, he’d said – or was it for watching them both? Whatever, it didn’t matter anymore.

  By the time they reached the artist’s place it was early evening. There was no light in the house, but there was a glow about the door frame of the church. They parked by the house, quietly made their way to the church, and listened. They heard nothing at first but after a minute caught the sound of something human. It was definitely coming from inside, yet it sounded far away at the same time. Andreas looked at Tassos and pointed at the door handle. Tassos nodded and pulled his pistol.

  Holding his gun in his right hand, Andreas reached for the handle with his left and gently turned it. The door was unlocked, and he crouched and yanked it open.

  Tassos’ eyes darted back and forth above his raised gun as he scanned the room. Seconds passed, and there wasn’t a sound.

  Andreas was about to speak when he heard the sound again. It was coming from under the floor, up through an opening partially covered by a marble slab. That was where the light was coming from too. There were shadows moving about in the light below the floor. Someone was down there. They could make out a ladder of sorts anchored to the far side of the opening. It was the way down into the crypt – and what must be the old mine entrance. He whispered, ‘Should we go in?’

  Before Tassos could speak, they heard a sudden, high-pitched wail and a deep, soulful moan rising out of the earth beneath them.

  It was the music that finally got to Annika through the haze that was her mind. Why was it playing here – wherever here was? She felt herself fading away but forced herself back. She thought, I told him, didn’t I? I told the bastard all about Peter, about us . . . about our music. She was fading again and knew she was losing herself to sleep. She moaned to herself, ‘Water, water. Don’t drink water,’ and passed out.

  It was the third time that day that Catia had called her brother’s office, and the third time his secretary said he was in a meeting. In her most courteous tone Catia said she did not want to interrupt her brother but it was ‘urgent he gets this message immediately.’ The secretary wrote down Catia’s words and read them back at her request. Catia said, ‘Perfect, dear. Thank you. Please give it to my brother at once. Good-bye,’ and hung up.

  The secretary knew this was not the sort of message she’d dare walk into the deputy minister’s office and read to him. She didn’t even want it associated with her hand-writing. Something about a handwritten message made it easier to kill the messenger.

  The gentle ping of Spiros Renatis’ computer meant he had a new, urgent e-mail message. He quickly glanced at the screen and clicked it open.

  Dear Spiros,

  When you were a little boy and hadn’t done what you were supposed to do, Mother made me look under all the beds in the house until I found where you were hiding. There must be a very big one in your office. WHY HAVEN’T YOU FOUND ANNIKA?

  Love, Catia.

  This time he placed the call himself, but still it wasn’t to Andreas.

  ‘Hello, mayor, it’s Spiros Renatis. How are you?’ They’d met a few times but didn’t know each other very well.

  The mayor had no idea why the deputy minister was calling but guessed it had something to do with raising either funds or hell on his little island. Mainland politicians were always asking for his help in such matters. He never minded because he knew it gave him far more national political influence than any mayor of only six thousand voters could possibly deserve.

  ‘Fine, thank you. How nice to hear your voice, Minister. How are you? Are we going to see you soon on our lovely island?’ His voice sounded prerecorded.

  ‘No complaints here and, yes, I’m planning to be there for the August 15 holiday,’ said Spiros.

  ‘Wonderful,’ said the mayor. ‘I look forward to seeing you again. Is there anything I can do to help you with your plans, Minister?’ No reason to draw this out, he thought.

  ‘Please, call me Spiros. And thank you for the offer, but we’re all set.’ Pause. ‘There is one little thing, though, I hoped you might be able to help me with.’

  Here it comes. ‘Sure, how can I be of service?’ The mayor was at his concierge-sounding best.

  Spiros sounded tentative. ‘It has to do with my sister’s daughter. She’s on Mykonos for holiday and hasn’t called her mother. I left word with your police chief to get her to call, but so far, my sister hasn’t heard from her. I can’t imagine it would be that hard to find her since I told him where she was staying.’ Pause. ‘So, I was wondering if you could give him a call and tell him how important this is to me.’

  Mihali thought he must be missing something. Spiros was the deputy minister of the arm of government in charge of police. Why was he calling him to speak to one of his chiefs? And why wouldn’t Andreas call him back? There had to be more to this than the deputy minister was telling him. ‘I’m surprised to hear that. The chief seems a responsive sort of guy.’

  Spiros spoke quickly. ‘Oh, I’m sure he is, and this probably isn’t a big thing to him, and to be honest, I think my sister is a bit of an alarmist – my niece only arrived there a couple of nights ago – but after all, she’s my only sister and Annika is her only child.’

  The mayor smiled to himself. This guy’s too embarrassed to keep henpecking away at Andreas the way his sister’s doing to him. He just wants to be able to tell her he now has both the mayor and the police chief of Mykonos looking for her. ‘Sure, no problem. Anything specific you want me to tell him?’

  ‘No. He already knows her full name, Annika Vanden Haag – her father’s a Dutch diplomat – and that she’s staying at the Adlantis Hotel.’

  It was a very warm evening, but the mayor felt a distinct chill. ‘What does she look like?’ he asked, his voice becoming shaky.

  ‘Your typical tall, blond, blue-eyed, twenty-two-year-old Dutch beauty.’ He sounded proud. ‘Who just graduated from Yale University.’

  Silence.

  ‘Are you okay?’ asked Spiros.

  ‘Uh, yes, just looking for a pencil.’ His heart was pounding.

  Spiros repeated the information, but the mayor never bothered to write it down. He already knew what it meant. He kept his voice in check long enoug
h to assure Spiros he’d get the chief to address this at once.

  He hung up and stared out his window at the sea. His office was on the second floor of the two-and-a-half-story municipal building standing at the south edge of the old harbor. It was built in the late 1700s as the home of a Russian count and was the only building on the harbor with terra cotta roof tiles. It had seen the rise and fall of many ruling powers on Mykonos. The mayor’s eyes drifted up to the sky. The sun had just set but the heavens were still bright. He wondered where Andreas was at that moment – and if he knew that the golden red sky was falling in on them.

  * * *

  At the moment it was the earth, not the sky, that held Andreas’ interest. He was the first one into the crypt. He didn’t use the ladder, just jumped in. It was only a few seconds more before Tassos was down the ladder but by then Andreas had found his man – and a large brown dog fiercely loyal to the master who’d rescued it from starving Mykonos winters and poisoned baits. Luckily for Andreas, in dog years it was almost as old as its master. Startled, Andreas instinctively ducked to the side as the dog leaped and missed with a midair, snarling lunge for his throat. It crashed and rolled to the floor by the base of the ladder at the feet of a surprised-looking Tassos. The dog never took its eyes off Andreas and scrambled to its feet for another run at him, but Tassos grabbed it from behind and held its snout closed while Andreas turned his attention – and gun – back on the man.

  The pounding in Andreas’ voice was more because of the dog than the man. ‘What are you doing down here?’ Andreas demanded.

  The man was kneeling and seemed surprisingly calm for one just surprised by two men with guns. ‘It’s my church. Hello, Tassos.’ He looked to be in his seventies, with the craggy face and silver hair of an old fisherman. His well-worn black jacket and dusty fisherman’s hat completed the picture.

  Tassos nodded. ‘Hello, Vassili.’

  Andreas knew it was time to lower his gun. ‘Sorry, we heard the wailing and moaning and thought someone was in trouble.’