Sons of Sparta: A Chief Inspector Andreas Kaldis Mystery

by Jeffrey Siger

  The instant Kouros appeared in the doorway the priest began his prayer and Mangas waved for Kouros to sit beside him at the far end of the row of tables closest to the sea.

  “Thanks for coming, Yianni.”

  Kouros nodded.

  “Your mother looks well.”

  “Puh, puh, puh. Yes, she does.”

  “You’re lucky to still have her.”

  Kouros nodded again. “I know.”

  Mangas patted Kouros on the back. “What did you think of Calliope’s mirologia performance?”

  “She’s very talented.”

  Mangas smiled. “I thought you were a cop, not a diplomat.”

  Kouros shrugged. “What else can I say, it’s her father’s funeral. She has every right to be emotional.”

  “What about me? Should I be emotional too?” There was no anger in Mangas’ voice.

  “If it makes you feel better.”

  “Good. I’ll take that as a blessing from you that I should find someone to kill to make my sister happy.”

  “Since when have you ever listened to your sister?”

  Mangas laughed. “Can you stay for a few days? You make me laugh.”

  “I will if you want me to, but first a question.”

  Mangas nodded.

  “What the hell’s going on?”

  Mangas rocked his head from side to side. “It’s pretty clear Calliope’s upset. I don’t know what was going through her mind to chant a mirologia at the funeral. Especially that mirologia, but despite what she said, the mechanic found nothing wrong with our father’s car, and according to the coroner who did the autopsy, he died from a massive heart attack.”

  Kouros shook his head. “A real tragedy.”

  “I’d like you to take a look at the autopsy report. Just to see if you agree.”

  “Sure. But if it’s technical, I might have to send it on to Athens.”

  Mangas nodded. “No problem.”

  “Don’t you trust the guy who did the autopsy?” said Kouros.

  “I trust him, but he’s not a big-time criminal investigator like my cousin, Athens Yianni. And before I go head-to-head with Calliope over her craziness about our father being murdered, I want to make sure she’s not right.”

  “Understood.”

  Both reached for shot glasses of whiskey sitting in front of them. “Theos singhorese ton,” each said before clinking glasses and gulping down the shots.

  God forgive his soul indeed, thought Kouros.

  ***

  The afternoon dragged on slowly for the family. Though many of the guests had left, the family lingered, as if reluctant to return to a world without Uncle’s presence. Most sat staring out to sea, adding one story after another to what was fast becoming the legend of Uncle. Not the least of the tales were of Uncle’s way with the ladies. Stories his sons took pride in retelling and his daughters feigned to ignore.

  At the other end of the same table, five men of about Uncle’s age sat drinking, toasting, and laughing. None of them seemed in a hurry to leave.

  “Who are they?” said Kouros, nodding in their direction.

  “His coffee buddies,” said Mangas. “They met for coffee here every morning. Been doing that since long before the new owner took over.”

  “How long ago did he take over?”

  Mangas shrugged. “Six years or so? Why do you ask?”

  “Just my natural cop curiosity. I’ll be right back.” Kouros slid his chair back from the table, stood, and walked over to the five men.

  “Yia sas. Mind if I sit down?”

  A chubby, bald man with a bulbous red nose and fisherman’s cap said, “Of course not. Our friend’s favorite nephew is always welcome here.”

  “Even if he’s a cop,” said a silver-haired, wiry fellow with bright blue eyes.

  Kouros smiled as he sat. “I see I don’t have to introduce myself.”

  “We already know all about you, Athens Yianni,” said a dark-haired man with a sallow complexion, who looked the youngest of the five. “Your Uncle always talked about you. With pride. You’re always welcome here. My name is Stelios.” He extended his hand and Kouros shook it.

  “I’m Konstantin,” waved the bulbous-nosed man from the other side of the table.

  “And I’m Panos,” said Blue Eyes. “The two silent ones with us are Mihalis and Alexander.”

  A man wearing a military-style baseball cap atop a weather-beaten face waved. “Mihalis.”

  The fifth man, the only one in a suit and tie, said, “Alexander.”

  “In case you don’t know, we’re all longtime buddies of your uncle,” said Panos.

  “Yes, Mangas told me. On behalf of my family I want to thank you for coming. Even though I’m sure you were more like family to my uncle than I was.”

  Panos gestured no. “Yes, we’re all very close, and some of us might even know each other better than our own children know us, but we are not family. Family is one thing. Everything else is something else.”

  Kouros nodded. “But I’m certain you know more stories about Uncle than I’ll hear anywhere else.”

  “For sure,” said Konstantin. “So, what sort of stories do you want to hear?”

  “He’s a young guy, Konstantin. He’ll want to know about the women,” laughed Stelios.

  They all laughed and toasted Uncle’s memory.

  Panos said. “The old bastard used to hit on me for a free room a couple of times a month. He’d always say, ‘I only need it for an hour or so. After all, I’m not as young as I used to be.’”

  They toasted Uncle again.

  “Free room?” asked Kouros.

  “Yes,” said Panos. “I have a hotel up the coast in Gerolimenas. He’d always be bringing different women around. Amazing how he attracted them.”

  “And if he wasn’t banging them in your hotel, he’d be doing them on my boat,” said Mihalis. “He never went to sea. Just did his business right there tied up to the dock.”

  “Created quite a few tsunamis if you believed him,” said Alexander.

  More laughter and toasting.

  “Hey, Athens Yianni, you’re not drinking,” said Stelios pouring him a shot of whiskey.

  “I was afraid you’d notice. I’m too young to keep up with you.” Kouros downed the shot.

  “Theos singhorese ton,” said all six in unison.

  “So, what would you like to know, Detective Kouros?” smiled Alexander.

  “Nothing more than you want to tell me.”

  Panos smiled. “He’s a better politician than you, Alexander.”

  “And could probably get elected honestly, too,” said Stelios.

  Laughter.

  “I’ll miss him,” said Alexander. “We all will. I wouldn’t be where I am in government today without him.”

  “And I’d still have union troubles at my hotel without his help,” said Panos.

  “On more occasions than I can remember he helped me out of jams with the coast guard over my style of fishing,” said Konstantin.

  Kouros almost said, “dynamiting?” but caught himself. That undoubtedly was what he meant, and calling Konstantin on it wasn’t likely to keep him and the others talking. He wondered if by referring to it as a “style” of fishing meant that at some level he was ashamed to be among those responsible for helping to ruin fishing in Greece. Hopefully not forever.

  “He brought peace to my family,” said Stelios. “Make that our families.”

  Kouros gave him a puzzled look.

  “I’m sure you know of the vendetta started by your great-grandfather. The boy he ordered your grandfather to kill was my father’s brother. It was my family who killed some of your own father’s siblings. It was your uncle who brought peace to our families.”

  Alone, Stelios dra
nk a toast to Uncle.

  “Did Uncle ever talk of that vendetta?” asked Kouros.

  “Not in decades,” said Stelios.

  “At least not with us,” said Mihalis.

  The others nodded.

  “Would he have if it were on his mind?”

  “I’d think so,” said Panos.

  “We were the unofficial council of elders for the community,” said Stelios.

  Panos said, “We started meeting decades ago for the purpose of making money. Helping each other make our businesses more profitable. But none of us work anymore, so…”

  “I still do,” said Alexander.

  “You’re a politician, you never worked, only took,” said Konstantin.

  All but Alexander laughed.

  “As I was saying, in recent years instead of talking business we’d meet each morning to talk about problems facing our community and try to find solutions.”

  “What sorts of problems?”

  “The kind people told us about or we learned from the news.”

  “Including newspapers?”

  “That was your Uncle’s specialty. Every morning he’d have the paper waiting for him at the table, and while we told stories he’d read it. After he finished we’d talk about whatever there was for us to worry about.”

  “Did my uncle have anything to ‘worry about’?”

  “Only with what to do with all the money he expected to get from his hotel project,” said Panos.

  “You knew about that?”

  “Of course we did,” said Alexander. “Like Panos said, we helped each other. And kept whatever we talked about to ourselves. I promised to set him up with whatever permits he needed, and Panos gave him advice on how to get the best hotel deal.”

  Kouros looked at Panos. “You weren’t worried about the competition?”

  “Competition? My son helps runs the hotel now, and we’d love some competition. It would bring in more tourists. Besides, my place is on the sea, your uncle’s was in the middle of rocks. I still don’t know what was on the mind of the fool who had planned on leasing the place.”

  “Had planned?”

  “Yes, your uncle hadn’t signed the papers yet. He died the day before the scheduled signing. Rotten luck for the family.”

  “But don’t worry,” said Alexander. “I’ll make sure the deal still goes through.”

  “Assuming the goddamned Ukrainian still wants to do the deal,” said Konstantin.

  And that my uncle’s sons and daughters are willing, thought Kouros. “Ukrainian?”

  “Yeah, your uncle said the buyer came from the Ukraine. Though he might be Russian,” said Konstantin.

  “Why wouldn’t he want to go through with the deal?” said Alexander.

  Konstantin’s nose was pulsing. “Because the bastard will probably see some advantage to renegotiating. To drive the price down. Those types are ruthless when it comes to business. Especially the Russians. I’ve seen them fishing.”

  “Uh, yeah, but let’s not forget who he’s dealing with. Mangas ain’t exactly an Athenian pansy.” Mihalis caught himself. “Sorry, Yianni. No offense intended.”

  Kouros shook his head. “None taken.”

  “After all, you and I are both cops. At least I used to be, and I was a childhood friend of your father.”

  “Mihalis used to be chief of police in these parts,” said Alexander.

  “I see,” said Kouros. “Weren’t any of you worried that with so many powerful people meeting every morning in the same place you might be a target?”

  “You mean for someone wanting to take out the competition?” smiled Alexander.

  “Or just to settle a grudge,” said Kouros.

  “Is that what you think happened? That someone settled an old grudge with your uncle?” Panos nodded. “It’s good to think like that. We were just talking about that same possibility.”

  The others at the table nodded.

  “And?” said Kouros.

  “There’s absolutely no one out there we can think of with any sensible reason for going after your uncle at this point in his life.”

  “No one?”

  “No one,” repeated Panos.

  They all nodded.

  “What about someone with a nonsensible reason?”

  “Good luck on finding that one,” said Mihalis.

  A light-coffee skinned girl no more than twenty years old came over to their table and said in accented Greek, “Are you okay? Do you need anything else?”

  “Just more of your loving,” said Konstantin.

  The girl laughed and smacked him lightly on the back of his head.

  “After all, with our great friend gone, who will there be to pinch your butt?” asked Mihalis slowly extending his hand in the direction of the girl’s rear. She smiled as she scooted away from his hand. Her face turned sad. “Yes, I shall miss him.”

  She turned and walked away, giving Kouros a clear vision of the recent topic of discussion.

  “Ah, if I were only twenty years younger,” said Konstantin.

  “Forty, you mean,” said Mihalis.

  “Who is she?” said Kouros.

  “She works here,” said Panos. “She’s the girlfriend of the guy who runs the place. He’s a Greek from a town in the northwest Peloponnese. Pirgos,” said Mihalis.

  “She’s an Arab. Probably illegal. He brought her here about a year ago. Damn fine addition too,” said Konstantin.

  “Someone from immigration actually had the balls to walk in here one morning while we were here and ask for her papers,” said Mihalis.

  “That was quite a morning,” laughed Panos. “The poor girl was scared to death and your uncle just sat at our table—we always sit in the front room—and motioned with his index finger for the idiot to come over to our table.”

  “The stupid son of a bitch didn’t even know who your uncle was. He stormed over and demanded your uncle’s ID.” Alexander burst out laughing.

  Panos said, “Your uncle calmly pulled out his wallet and handed him his identity card. The expression on the asshole’s face when he realized who he’d just called out was priceless.”

  Stelios said, “Your uncle calmly said, ‘Now leave here and never, ever come back.’”

  “I never saw anyone move so fast,” said Konstatin. He raised his glass. “To your uncle. There never was and shall never be another like him.”

  “Theos singhorese ton.”

  By the time Kouros left the taverna he was as drunk as the rest of the men in the place. How he got back to his uncle’s house was a miracle.

  If he remembered in the morning all that he’d heard in the taverna it would be an even greater one.

  Chapter Eight

  Dinner was called for nine at the Kaldises’ home. A bit early by Athens standards, but it helped Lila convince Maggie that eating there rather than in a restaurant would not be a bother to her. “I’m not cooking, Marietta is,” had Maggie wavering but it took Lila saying “It will give you and Tassos a chance to see Tassaki,” to close the deal.

  From the moment Maggie entered the apartment, Tassaki was all over her. He loved his “Aunt Maggie,” and as a precocious three-year-old, knew to negotiate the terms of his bedtime surrender up-front, while his parents still wanted him around.

  “I promise to go to bed if Theia Maggie reads me a story,” kept Maggie and Lila in his bedroom for almost an hour.

  “That kid is a born deal-making politician,” said Tassos from a couch in the living room.

  “I thought you liked him?” said Andreas sitting next to him.

  Tassos laughed and gestured with his wineglass in the direction of the windows lining the wall across from him. “Hard to imagine how he won’t aspire to greatness with such a glorious view of the Acropolis every time he lo
oks in that direction.”

  “I just hope he doesn’t take it for granted. That’s the downside of all this.” Andreas picked up a wine bottle from a silver ice bucket on the coffee table in front of them and poured some into Tassos’ glass. “Lila would kill me if she saw me doing this instead of asking Marietta to do it for us.”

  “Stop complaining. You’ve got a great family.”

  “I thought you were on my side?” Andreas smiled.

  “I am. That’s why I told you to stay away from Orestes.”

  “And I listened.”

  “Really?”

  “Sort of.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “I followed your suggestion and told the prosecutor to subpoena the companies on his list.”

  “And?”

  Andreas took a sip of wine. “I’m keeping an eye on him.”

  “Why?”

  “Don’t know yet, depends on what he’s up to. I want to know if he has any plans on getting back at me for not playing ball.”

  “And how do you intend on learning what’s in his mind?”

  “I have someone from outside the unit keeping an eye on him.”

  “Why outside the unit? Do you think there’s a leak?”

  Andreas gestured no. “But Spiros is the big boss and if he finds out, God knows what he might say to Orestes to keep on his good side.”

  “Who’d you bring in?”

  “His name is Petro Dangas. He’s a tough kid, who works at GADA but moonlights at a club where Orestes hangs out. I told him to keep track of Orestes’ guests and associates. I want to know who’s getting his special attention.”

  “Can you trust the guy?”

  “My instincts say yes. He’s been on the force less than two years, and six months ago transferred to headquarters’ security from a vice unit in the wild-ass western suburbs.”

  “Why would he leave a wide-open, take-what-you-can money-making assignment like that?” smiled Tassos.

  “I thought the same thing, so I spoke to his former precinct commander.”

  “Surprised he talked to you.”