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

by Luke Christodoulou

  He raised his bright, blue eyes and opened them wide as he stared at the crowd of thirty sitting below him. His deep wrinkles gathered by the side of his eyes and the tip of his tongue made an appearance as it ran along his this lips. A young technician, not a day over twenty-five, stood up. I turned to catch a better look of the young man and noticed that Ioli had also raised her hand.

  ‘Yes?’ the chief said.

  ‘Petros Miller, sir. It’s a long shot, sir, I know, but I have been developing a new system for voice recognition, and I have been running the... bad guy’s voice through it.’

  ‘And, what does this system do?’ the chief asked, having noticed that while Petros Miller spoke, his supervisor had rolled his eyes.

  ‘Well, sir, it will compare the voice to everything on record. Against anything Greek on YouTube, talk shows, the internet in general... one day, if we get approval, even against communications...’

  ‘Have you had any results?’

  The boy scratched the back of his head; his thick fingers ran through his thin, brown hair. ‘Well, no...’

  The chief turned his head away.

  ‘We are also looking into recognizing the background, sir. Maybe match the building to a known hotel or premise. The vast majority have photos on their webpages and Facebook pages,’ Mrs. Rena, his supervisor quickly added.

  ‘Hmm, okay. Ioli?’

  ‘Yes, chief,’ she replied, standing up. ‘I noticed something, but as I am newly assigned on the case, it might have been mentioned in other meetings. The voice numbered fourteen people and what he considers their sins to be. One of the names mentioned has not appeared directly in any of the footage so far, sir. Well, at least his face hasn’t.’

  ‘Who, Cara?’

  My phone began to vibrate in my pocket. The flashing screen informed me it was my wife, Tracy. Her third call in the last ten minutes. I knew what it was. Since my cancer treatment was -as much as chemotherapy can be- successful, my doctor had me under observation, fearing a recession of sorts. Every few months, I checked. Last time, ‘something’ was spotted. ‘Could be nothing,’ she said. But, then again, it could be everything. ‘Further testing,’ she advised. Samples were sent abroad weeks ago. The results were expected any day, now. I took my phone into my hand and got up, walking out of the room, a cold sweat around my collar.

  ‘Yes, babe?’ I asked as soon as the glass door closed behind me.

  ‘Guess who’s getting lucky tonight?’

  ‘Babe, you serious? I’m at a meeting. I thought...’

  ‘Shut up, knucklehead. Your results came, Costa. Sweety, you are in the clear. I’m cooking you your favorite...’

  ‘Whiskey-flavored, honey-glazed spare ribs with oven potatoes and Brussel sprouts?’

  Her laughter boomed through the receiver. ‘That’s the one. And, I’ll be your dessert.’

  ‘Can’t wait.’

  ‘Don’t be late,’ she said, and the phone beeped.

  I re-entered the room as the chief was congratulating Ioli and assigning her a couple of media tech-geeks to further look into her theory.

  Next up, Captain Tito spoke about the details picked up in various conversations.

  ‘...they searched for the owner. Aristoteli, they called him. No surname was given. We checked every large building owned by an Aristoteli all over Greece. Most function as businesses, hotels, etc. We sent patrol cars to any abandoned ones. Nothing, sir. Also, we are still looking into how the locusts were obtained. I thought that would be a good breakthrough if we could pinpoint where they were bought. Especially, if that place had security footage. So far, again, nothing,’ he said. This second ‘nothing’ painted with more despair.

  As the briefing continued, I turned around to Ioli. ‘What about our missing billionaire case?’

  ‘I’m off the case, boss,’ she said, studying my expression. ‘Sorry, for not talking it through with you. Did you need me for the next move?’

  She paused and took a deep breath. ‘Is there a next move?’

  She was right. The billionaire case drove into a dead end street and parked before a brick wall. Her friends were in that hotel. ‘That’s great,’ I replied. ‘You will be more useful on the Hotel Murder case.’

  Chapter 21

  Diana had still not found the courage to stand up. She remained seated on the floor where she had spent the night. The audio from the macabre murder of the banker had shaken her up from the cold ground.

  ‘I must have been tired,’ she whispered as she wiped her sore eyes. Only once before had she remained on the ground for such a long time. Her thoughts travelled to days long past, almost pushed into oblivion. ‘Funny how we strain to remember happy times, yet can never shake out the nasty...’ she continued her mumbling as she stood up and walked over to the rusty sink. She closed her eyes and pictured a young, beautiful and provocative twenty-two-year-old Diana. She stood in her student apartment, just two roads down from her university. She played with her nails as she paced to and from her window. At last, her boyfriend Jack parked beneath. She ground her teeth and opened the door. She left it ajar and sat down on her patch-work two-seater sofa. She listened as his heavy steps echoed the narrow hall. As always, he ran up the three stories due to his irrational fear of elevators. Not that he ever admitted such a phobia. ‘Good workout those stairs,’ he would say and take her into his arms, kissing her before she could comment. Her eyes watched his seven foot tall, athletic body enter and close the door behind him.

  ‘Hey, babe. What’s up? Why haven’t you been answering your phone?’

  Diana forced a smile and patted the sofa. ‘Come, Jack, sit down.’

  ‘Oh, oh. Sounds serious,’ he attempted to joke, though his still face betrayed him. He sat down and placed his hand upon hers.

  ‘There’s no easy way to say this and I didn’t want to do this over the phone. You deserve this. The face-to-face treatment, I mean. Jack, I’m breaking up with you...’

  ‘Now, wait. I...’

  ‘Ssh,’ she said, and her hand touched his pillowy lips. ‘I’ve made up my mind. Please accept my decision.’

  His hands ran through his curly hair. ‘But, why? Don’t we have fun together?’

  ‘We do. You’re a great guy. It’s just that I never pictured myself locked in a serious, long-term relationship at such an age. I am not built to get a degree and then play house, taking care of my man and a bunch of kids. I want a career. I want to see the world...’

  His eyes turned cold, and he bit his bottom lip. ‘What? You wanna be one of those slutty free-spirited girls? You surely aren’t the nun type. Can’t you see the world with me?’

  Diana turned towards him. ‘What do you mean I am not the nun type?’

  ‘You know what I mean,’ he replied, and his right hand ran up her thigh, entering under her jean skirt.

  ‘Don’t,’ she warned him.

  ‘Come on. For last time’s sake,’ he said and fell upon her.

  ‘Stop,’ she yelled and pushed him off, quickly standing up. ‘Get out!’

  Jack stood up towering over her, an evil smirk on his face. He took two slow steps towards her and pushed her with both hands. Diana stepped backwards, tripping on a side coffee table. She swirled and fell face down. Before she could recover, Jack lay upon her, holding her hands down. He bit her on her ear lobe and threatened to strangle her if she screamed.

  Diana stared at the Boney-M clock on the wall opposite her. She watched the seconds go by. It only took eighty-nine seconds for Jack to pleasure his beastly desires and for her to feel dead inside. She listened as he wiped himself clean upon her skirt and then zipped up his trousers. ‘Good luck seeing the world. This is what happens to women in a man’s world,’ he said and walked out the door, slamming it behind him. Dianna remained frozen for minutes. The first thought that came to existence in her mind was that, going forward, she would always be the boss and the man of her life.

  The memory faded and she was back at the manor of Hote
l Murder.

  I could use a cock right about, now, she thought as the running water reminded her of her bloated bladder. She splashed water on her face and thought, What the heck? I’ll probably be dead by morning.

  She flipped her middle finger towards the ceiling, though no cameras were visible. ‘You want a show? Well, here you go.’

  Dianna dropped her cherry-colored knickers to the floor and climbed up on the old, grimy counter. She stood above the kitchen sink and relieved herself with a smile.

  In another part of the house, Eugene had more luck with his bathroom needs. He placed a chair as blockage to a slamming door and rushed to the toilet. He, also, felt as he had given a show. He peeped out of the bathroom door and stared at Jocasta as she slept. I finally find a woman for sex, and we are planned to be executed. Just my luck!

  Just below them, in the library, Alexandro also woke and kept his eyes on his sleeping other half. He gently kissed her on her cold cheek and raised his head, rubbing his neck. ‘What the..?’

  ‘What happened?’ Valentina said and quickly sat up.

  Apollo, who slept opposite them, also opened his eyes. He jumped up and looked around the room. ‘Where are they?’

  Both Maximos and the congressman were missing. What was even worse, was someone had removed all the books blocking the doors, and the three of them were shut in.

  ‘I always hated mornings,’ Valentina grunted and leaned forward, her head resting in the palms of her hands.

  Alexandro yelled and threw the first book in sight against the wall. ‘We need to find a way out,’ he said breathlessly and began to wander the room, his hands checking around.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Why what, Apollo?’

  Apollo crunched his knuckles and rubbed his sore eyes. ‘Why get out? It’s safer to stay together. As we have realized, he is making demands against the government using us as hostages. Sheep to the slaughter. The entire army, police, and government agencies are probably searching for us as we speak. He has taken Maximos and Theodore. We aren’t next. Let’s stay together... here.’

  Valentina stood up. ‘How can you be so sure you’re not next now? It doesn’t mean you’re safe. What if they come for you the next time you sleep?’

  ‘We learn from our mistakes. We stay put until rescued and if by nightfall we are still here, we will take it in turns, guarding the other two. I have a black belt in karate you know, and you are police officers...’

  ‘Enough! I do not agree with you, though I think we have no other option,’ Alexandro said, and another book flew and crashed against the wall.

  Chapter 22

  ‘Tick tock, tick tock. Time is up, Greece.’

  The distorted voice returned hours later. A joyful tone was wrapped around its mechanical wording, somewhat pushing away its normally baleful, ominous sound. As if it was a neighborhood kid pulling a prank while using an app from his smart-phone. ‘Our first major accomplishment. If you have not heard it yet from the news, all banks will be lowering their interest rates. We heard some bullshit about central European banks, but the prime minister has promised that even if Europe does not agree, the banks will take the damage and do what’s right by the people. Power is returning to us, my fellow Greeks. Keep voting. Our next request is higher taxation to the big companies out there and lower taxation on lower incomes. Instructions will be sent. Enjoy this glorious day, Greece. You are being reborn from your ashes.’

  ‘Fuck,’ the prime minister uttered for the first time in his office and pushed his Alexander the Great pen holder off the edge of his mahogany desk. His heavy breathing lifted and dropped his broad shoulders in such a way that he did not even notice his wife’s hands laying upon them, failing in their mission to calm him down. A room full of silent people stood before him. ‘Doesn’t he realize we are under agreements with Europe and the IMF? We can’t break memorandums like this. What the hell are our police doing?’

  With people rushing out to their respective duties, the clock on their screens began to count backwards.

  Time is relative, he remembered his rather peculiar professor of philosophy.

  Relative to how you are spending it, paying attention to it, worrying about it.’

  All his efforts and all of his powers could not stop the countdown.

  Time is no Penelope. It waits for no one.

  The next two hours passed and then the screens came back to life.

  Theodore stood in the center of a gloomy light cycle. His bare feet were tied to the ground by large, metal plates, while his arms were raised in the air, lifted by chains that ran upwards and vanished in the shadows. He wore just his white underwear and a black blindfold. The camera zoomed into his back, and the voice came to life.

  ‘Theodore! Your name means a present from God. Even though, I guess, you truly believe that you are a divine gift, you are far from it. You and the rest of the leeches of parliament failed your mission. You forgot why the Greek people voted for you. You bend over with every demand from our loaners and kiss Merkel’s feet as she passes out orders. You made many promises that you did not keep, mighty congressman. How original. A politician that does not keep his promises. Well, do I have a surprise for you. I ran through all of your pre-election speeches and noted every single promise you made that you did not keep. For every broken promise, you will earn yourself a whip. A strike of justice.’

  The voice paused, and a heavy door could be heard opening in the background. A tall, dark figure could be vaguely seen among the shadows. A new, thin beam of light shone down and illuminated the figure’s hand. His thick fingers were wrapped around a whip.

  ‘Want to guess the number, Theodore, sir? Forty-six! Forty-six promises on your to-do list that never came true. Greece, let’s count!’

  The hand raised the bull-whip, and then a small sonic boom broke the air.

  ‘One!’

  Theodore yelled in anguish as viewers witnessed the first of many red lines on his naked back.

  The next whip crack came.

  ‘Two.’

  Somewhere around the twentieth whip, Theodore passed out, his senses unable to handle the severe pain. The gaps between whips lengthened as even his attacker grew tired.

  Time is surely relative.

  It only took twelve minutes to lash Theodore to near death.

  ‘Forty-six!’

  The bloody whip fell to the ground as the controller did not pull it back. The lights dimmed, concealing the man approaching the tortured congressman. Light fell only on Theodore’s head, and Greece watched as his assailant wrapped the whip around the congressman’s bleeding neck and strangled out the remaining life lingering inside Theodore’s body.

  Once again, a life-line beeped across the screen and flat-lined.

  ‘Okay, the moment of silence is finished,’ the eerie voice returned. ‘Next demand. A rise of 15% on all pensions, excluding those receiving two or more pensions. You have two hours.’

  We need more time.

  The thought on the people in charge’s minds.

  ‘I want a full briefing of every effort to locate these terrorists in ten minutes,’ the prime minister snapped at his secretary. ‘And get me Merkel and Lagarde on the line.’

  As the prime minister exited the room, his advisors exchanged worried stares.

  ‘As if the memorandum will change over a few hostages. We owe billions,’ one said.

  ‘And what is the price for a human’s life these days?’ a woman dressed in black asked and sat back in a high-back armchair.

  ‘Even with VAT and inflation, it surely isn’t a billion, that’s for sure,’ the short man with the thick mustache replied.

  Relative time rushed again. Each passing minute brought a series of dead-ends to the ears of the prime minister. Disappointment filled the room until the police chief raised his phone to his ear after discreetly answering it.

  ‘I’m in the prime minister’s office. Talk quick,’ his rough voice said, giving a shot at whispering.<
br />
  The prime minister watched as his old friend’s silvery mustache moved upwards, slightly above the corners of the chief’s lips. The chief hardly smiled.

  ‘Aha, okay, cut the tech gibberish and cut to the point. Do we have him? Hmm, okay, yeah, pick the suspect up and have him questioned. I’ll be on my way back,’ the chief continued, pretending to be unaware of the prime minister’s eyes locked on him.

  As the chief lowered his phone and his thumb press the red button to end the call, the prime minister stood up. ‘Well?’ was all he asked.

  The tip of the chief’s tongue watered his dry lips before he spoke. ‘A kid in the tech lab found certain points or whatever they are called in the broadcasted voice and has been running them through a new system and comparing them with other recorded voices. A long shot. To be honest, no one was really expecting any results...’

  ‘But?’

  ‘He thinks he has a match...’

  ‘Has he been arrested?’

  ‘Units are on the way as we speak.’

  Chapter 23

  ‘What’s that noise?’ Jocasta asked as she leaped out of bed. For a split second, she had forgotten her whereabouts and was secretly enjoying Eugene’s eyes fixed on her semi-covered figure.

  ‘Gas,’ he replied as he looked up to the built-in air-conditioning vents.

  A cloud of reddish smoke invaded the room and with the doors and windows sealed shut; it did not take long to occupy every ounce of air that lingered in the bedroom.

  Eugene picked up a small Zeus statue and ran to the door. He began to manically bang the base of the sculpture against the door.

  ‘They won’t break!’ Jocasta yelled as she curled up on the bed and covered her mouth and nose with the bed sheet.

  ‘Just a crack will help,’ he shouted back and kept on hitting.

  The statue’s base broke off and fell to the carpeted floor. Zeus followed, and Eugene came tumbling after. Jocasta’s eyes opened wide as she witnessed him pass out. She began to cough, and the thin sheet was not able to protect her. She lost consciousness a minute after Eugene.