Hotel Murder: The most gripping, page-turning mystery of the year (Greek Island Mysteries Book 5)

by Luke Christodoulou

  ‘I wished we could be of more help. Those poor souls,’ Mrs. Agapiou said.

  ‘Bringing us the invitation is a major help,’ Savva replied and smiled at her. ‘By the way, did you ever call out of curiosity or did they try to contact you in any other way?’

  ‘Nope,’ Mr. Agapiou said. ‘Praise Jesus, we have my mother’s eightieth birthday tonight, and as soon as I saw the dates, I threw the invitation to the side. Lucky for you, it fell among some bills and the cleaning lady did not take it out with the trash.’

  ‘The important thing is to save the hostages,’ Mrs. Agapiou said. ‘Can you imagine, Andrea, us out there? Murdered on live TV? And, for what? Because we are rich,’ she continued and turned to Captain Savva’s direction. ‘We treat our employees like family,’ she said, feeling the need to excuse herself.

  Yeah, we are all so innocent in this world, he thought.

  Chapter 19

  An uneasy night finally approached its end and died into daylight.

  It was hard to let your body fall asleep when your doom is imminent. Like rats caged for the first time, it took captives a while to settle down. Diana kicked off her high heels and paced up and down the closet of a kitchenette until her feet felt sore. She took a roll of kitchen paper, unfolded it and pushed into a bundle. She sat down in the corner and placed it behind her head as a pillow.

  ‘Screw you, inner thoughts,’ she said rather calmly as her mind travelled through her life. ‘I regret nothing,’ she said and closed her eyes, forcing her mind to stop attacking her.

  Behind her, just a wall apart, three siblings tried to find some peace as well. The two brothers, each with a cushion below their heads, slept on the carpet while their sister took the two-seater couch.

  ‘It’s cold,’ Clio whispered. Not so much as to complain, but to check if her brothers had managed to sleep. They had spent the better part of the last hour cursing, worrying and planning an escape. No answer came from the silence of the dark room. Clio took in a breath of enclosed, stiff air and curled up on the sofa. Soon, she welcomed nightmares of death and despair.

  Jocasta and Eugene found themselves together, investigating the top floor. Eugene returned to his room to check the fake ceiling of his bedroom’s bathroom. He figured if there was a cavity above large enough for him to crawl in maybe he could find a way out. In his room, he bumped into Jocasta with her mobile phone raised high in the air. She checked every spot of the floor for a signal. None was to be found. The door automatically slammed behind him, the room holding them both captive.

  ‘Give me a freaking break!’ Jocasta screamed and threw her cell against the closed door. Eugene placed his hands upon her shaking shoulders and explained his plan. Jocasta stood by the bathroom door as Eugene stood on the toilet and punched through the ceiling. Pieces of gypsum fell to the tiled ground, creating a hole that dampened their hopes. Just centimeters above lay a thick layer of cement and old brick, signs of an old house clearly renovated.

  Jocasta turned and walked over to the bed. She fell face down into the pillow. ‘I can’t believe I’m going to cry. Since my parents’ funeral, I promised to never cry again. You know, as in everything else would be so insignificant since that day. Not worth crying about, for sure...’

  Eugene sat next to her and placed his left hand upon her head. He stroked her hair and said ‘I lost my parents, too at a young age. My mum passed away when I was nine, and my father died before I went to high school. Cancer took them both, believe it or not.’

  Jocasta twirled and sat up straight beside him. ‘Car accident on Christmas Eve, believe it or not. Picture an eleven-year-old girl waking up on Christmas Day, running down to the tree, only to find grieving aunts waiting to inform me that my drunk of a father crashed into an oak tree, my mother’s body painting it red for the special day. If only she wore a seat belt.’

  Eugene wiped the tears from under her eyes and smiled. ‘And we then wonder what could go worse in this life... voila!’ he said and showed the room.

  Jocasta leaned forward and kissed him on the lips. A cold, dry kiss soaked in desperation, yet nevertheless a kiss.

  Eugene, despite his inner wishes, never had a girlfriend. Not what he called a real one. Just easy one night stands and paid love. As a speech writer, he always knew the right words for everyone else, but himself when it came to dating and not sex hunting. Countless times, he stood awkwardly in front of a beautiful woman, mumbling about the weather or worse, politics. All his wit and humor abandoned him when sex was not the goal. Around thirty, Eugene gave up chasing single ladies around Athens’ bars and focused on his booming career. A career that allowed him to avoid cheap hookers and buy the company of exotic escorts.

  Jocasta’s kiss was the first time he did not make the first move or pay for sexual attention. He placed his hands upon the back of her head, his fingers tangled in her fiery hair and held her close. His lips travelled along her neck, and he sucked upon her earlobe. Jocasta sighed in delight and fell back upon the bed. Fueled by passion and a fear of death approaching, they ignored the cameras, and one by one items of clothing dived to the floor. As Eugene slid slowly into her, Jocasta dug her nails into his buttocks and pushed down. For the next ten minutes, uptight Jocasta’s mind switched off and locked away her trepidation. Her body fell victim to Eugene’s experienced hands and sang in delight. Just as she felt that she could not take it anymore, her body reaching high temperatures, Eugene pulled out and with a small grunt fell to her side.

  They exchanged no words. Jocasta pulled up the almond-colored, satin sheet and placed her head upon Eugene’s chest. His heavy breathing worked as a lullaby and soon, both had closed their eyes.

  The largest group in the mansion took the prize for the uneasiest night.

  Five people wandering the house in vain. All doors were locked, and all windows had vanished behind steel plates. At Alexandro’s suggestion, one person stood by the door as the rest entered and then another stood by the other door as they exited. That way they avoided being locked in.

  ‘Guess we are all going to the toilet together, then?’ Maximos joked though it had been a couple of hours since he first thought that he needed to go.

  ‘This is hopeless,’ Congressman Theodore said, ignoring Maximos’s question. ‘We are just going round and round...’

  ‘What else can we do?’ Valentina said as she stood in the doorway of the library. ‘Give up? There’s no such thing as a perfect plan. There must be something they missed.’

  ‘Maybe we should split up. That’s what they are expecting us to do. I’ll stay here. I kind of like the idea of dying in the library,’ Apollo said as his eyes ran along the titles of the hundreds of books upon the many shelves. ‘Better than dying in the toilet, right, Maximos? By the way, if you really want to, I saw a bathroom, two doors down.’

  Maximos chuckled. ‘Trying to get rid of me?’

  ‘If only it were that easy.’

  ‘Call my ex-wife for tips.’

  Alexandro wiped the cold sweat from his large forehead. ‘Quit it, you two,’ he said as his hands checked around the steel plates for any sign of weakness.

  ‘I’m tired,’ Valentina whispered to him as she placed her head upon his broad back.

  Alexandro looked around the room. Two long sofas, comfortable armchairs, a marble fireplace. ‘Compared to other rooms, this seems like a great option for the night.’

  ‘Staying here, then?’ Maximos asked.

  ‘Let’s build some piles of books and place them in the doorway. That way, even if a steel plate falls or the door tries to slam closed, it will be blocked,’ Valentina said and started to collect a row of dusty encyclopaedias. Apollo commented that it was a great idea and began to collect books as well.

  ‘Choose your worst books, guys,’ Theodore said as he lit his last cigarette. He wished he could make it back to his room for another packet, but the hallway was sealed since Hope’s and Galatea’s execution. ‘I think this fireplace is missing a fire.�
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  ‘No problem. I was never fond of books anyway,’ Maximos said with a mischievous grin gracing his face; his lips mostly hidden by his rich beard.

  The group worked in silence, only Alexandro’s stomach rumbling broke the serenity. ‘Fuck, I’m starving.’

  His mind flew back in time to his late mother. She hated when he used the word. No, not the f-word. The word starving.

  ‘Boy, you have no idea what starving is. Kids in Africa are starving. You’re just hungry,’ she would tell him.

  ‘Maybe a couple of us should try a trip to the dining room or kitchen...’ Apollo started to say.

  ‘Stop trying to get rid of me,’ Maximos said, and his rough chuckle came to life.

  Soon, all five were resting, trying to shut off their worrying minds.

  Alexandro and Valentina curled up on the burgundy couch. Alexandro kissed her softly on the neck and whispered words of love. His right hand around her, holding her close while his left remained in his pocket. A small object which he held tight. And then, he did something he hadn’t done in many years. Dear Lord, please keep us safe, he prayed.

  Around Greece, Hotel Murder took the chunk out of late-night discussions. Everyone had an opinion; everyone felt anxious. Many woke up before their alarms. All rushed to turn on their TV sets to find out more. All major networks were covering the story. When the Sky network was taken over again at nine o’clock that morning, all channels broadcasted the transmission. The voice was back.

  ‘Good morning, Greece,’ it said, and hints of excitement came through the distorted voice. ‘Votes were counted, and another death was provided to you while you slept. A sacrifice for a better tomorrow. The person with the most votes was the greedy, slimy banker. Neofytos Theodorou met his deserved end during the night. Let’s now enjoy the video.’

  The next image was that of Neofytos walking into what seemed to be a cleaner’s closet. He searched all around for a way out. Suddenly, the door slammed behind him. A blowing noise could be heard, and a mist of purplish air came through the tiny air vent above. Neofytos dropped stone cold to the ground. Static lines appeared across screens, and the next image was one of a naked Neofytos trapped in a similar –could have been the same- glass cage to Arsenios’s, the doomed bishop. Unlike Arsenios, he was tied up, forced to the ground on all fours. A masked man entered the room with a bucket filled with fifty euro notes.

  ‘Dinner time, swine,’ the mechanical voice announced.

  The cloaked man entered the glass cage and stood by the banker. His gloved hand pulled Neofytos’s head back by the hair. ‘Open your mouth.’ The words unheard from TV, yet read clearly on the assailant’s lips that were visible through the mask’s mouth hole.

  ‘All you did was eat our money,’ the sinister voice continued as eyes witnessed the banker being force-fed multiple notes. ‘But your hunger was never satisfied. Banks just wanted more and more. Time for stuffing.’

  The next scene was one of the most disturbing scenes ever broadcasted on Greek daytime TV. The tall man in black moved to kneel behind tied-up Neofytos and proceeded to shove money up his rectum. The banker yelled out in pain and disgust, and tears ran freely from his blue eyes.

  Minutes later, with an empty green bucket in his dirty hand, his attacker left, sealing the glass cage behind him.

  ‘Need some change?’ the robotic voice asked, and thousands of coins fell from above. Neofytos screamed in pain as the weight of coins hit his back. Red marks soon appeared, but the pain was the least of his worries. The coins started to fill up the cage. He struggled; his body swaying left and right. His hands tightly tied to the metal hooks on the ground.

  It only took three minutes for him to be covered; his naked, abused body disappeared from the nation’s screens.

  A video of a declining heartbeat appeared next, and in seconds flatlined.

  ‘The revenge against the system continues. Brothers and sisters, remain strong and keep voting. We will keep demanding. The Minister of Economy and the heads of banks have three hours to announce at least a 2% cut in loan interest rates. Vampires, remove your fangs or else...’

  TV sets went silent once more.

  People, though numb from the banker’s savage death, could not resist hoping for a breath of hope on their loans. Some even smiled.

  Chapter 20

  Melina, the police chief’s new secretary, began to regret her fondness for stiletto heels as she rushed from the elevator, down the long corridor where stale air permanently lived, and headed to the police headquarter’s main conference room. She was new to the position, yet had been a secretary in the police force for more years than her two-year-old son could count to. It was an unwritten rule around HQ that no secretary lasted more than six months with the chief. Melina was set to beat that ‘silly’ record as she thought of it. ‘He is just a man,’ she would say. ‘Okay, an eccentric man, but still human.’

  She would laugh off tales of his yelling and icy glares over his coffee not being strong enough or too hot, if a case file was not in his hands within minutes of asking for it and if you screwed up his military-precise appointment schedule. Now, her aching feet formed blisters as she dashed around HQ getting things done. She never had to run before. But, today was not a normal day, and these were definitely not normal days Greece was living in. Melina had wept at the brutal executions from Hotel Murder curled up in her husband’s arms. The chief had received a call from the prime minister’s office. Melina remembered looking at the green light on her desk phone flick to red as the chief slammed down the phone. Within seconds, he began to shout out orders for a general assembly to be held in conference room one. Melina quickly began sending out messages to other secretaries, calling all the ‘major players’ of the case – as the chief referred to them by - and sent out instructions to the cleaning lady and the technician to have everything ready before leaping out of her twirling chair as soon as she heard the chief getting out of his office chair. He had asked her to pass onto his laptop various slides and have it connected to the room’s projector before his arrival.

  Now, her stiletto shoes rapidly dug into the navy blue carpet as she held the laptop open in front of her eyes and placed the USB stick into its socket.

  ‘Shit,’ she said, mostly an exhale of despair than a curse word. The word was barely audible, even to her own ears. When you have a fifty-fifty chance of placing a flash drive correctly, there is a ninety percent chance you will get it wrong, she recalled a funny post from Facebook as she flipped the USB around. With one eye on the screen, she watched the slides being transferred, and with another on the long corridor, she reached the conference room. Thankfully, the doors were open as police officers entered murmuring between them about the bizarre case. She slowed her pace and walked down the aisle, past the neat rows of chairs, up to the wooden podium with the golden plate featuring the logo of the Hellenic police. Law and order for all.

  Melina placed the computer on the podium and connected it to the projector. She looked behind her to check if it was showing on the wall behind her and, with a smile, she straightened her posture and fixed her ginger hair.

  ‘Ladies and gentlemen, please take your seats,’ she said in her well-practiced professional tone. ‘The chief will be with us in a minute; please prepare your notes and suggestions...’

  Melina stepped back and looked out of the glass doors. The chief was outside with his cell phone to his ear. Melina gazed to her left at the droplets of rain racing down the window. She loved the rain. With the slight sweat formed on her forehead and back, she would love a walk in the downpour.

  Ioli arrived at that moment and was glad to see the chief preoccupied with his call. She had been up in the tech labs and lost precious minutes to come down to the meeting as the lavatory on the tech floor was hard to find.

  Energy drinks and the sound of rain. Bad combination, Cara, she thought as she sneaked by the chief and entered the high-ceilinged room with the ugliest curtains she had ever seen. ‘Even
my great grandma with her lousy traditional taste in clothing has more decent curtains than these,’ she had complained into my ear during her first week at HQ. I never cared much about my work-place surroundings.

  I turned around as Ioli sat behind me. ‘Where did you disappear to?’ I asked.

  ‘Even Dora, the freaking explorer, could not find the hidden toilets on the seventh floor.’

  ‘You were in the technical department?’

  Ioli leaned forward. ‘Yes, I...’

  The chief’s signature cough interrupted her. Silence fell upon the vast room.

  I always found the whole procedure rather funny, to be honest. Like a bunch of school kids called into assembly, we’d all quiet down as the ‘head-master’ took his place.

  ‘This is going to be short,’ he said as he rearranged the shiny microphone facing him. ‘As you all know, time is of the essence in this case. I have been called into the prime minister’s office. I ain’t no fool and damn hell do I hate looking like one,’ he continued and nodded to Melina who stood quietly at his side. Melina approached, looked down at the laptop and double-clicked the newly created folder. ‘Your attention, please. Let’s not for a minute forget that there are two of us imprisoned in that hell. The folders you see behind me are the gatherings of all your work. I want new eyes on everything. More background checks, anything that connects our victims, why our officers were not mentioned in the video, guesses on the whereabouts of the premises, anything. Melina will be sending this folder to all of you present. Keep going with your assigned part of the case, but try to connect the dots between your individual works. See the whole picture, go full circle and all that shit you youngsters learned at the academy. Now, I want short briefings from all captains and colonels in charge of every department before I stand before the prime minister.’

  Some lieutenants began to stand up. ‘But first,’ the chief raised his voice, landing their behinds firmly back into their seats. ‘But first,’ he repeated, ‘I want to hear of any new ideas or directions. An angle we might have overlooked or something you have noticed since your last meeting with your captains.’