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

by Luke Christodoulou

  ‘Come in, sir,’ she said. ‘Who are you visiting today?’ she asked, her eyes looking down at her chart.

  ‘Antigoni Lemoni.’

  ‘Very well. Sign here, sir. Mrs. Antigone is in the back yard in the picnic area,’ she said, and her palm pointed to the large patio doors behind her, to the right. ‘Members of staff will help you if you need anything,’ she added, checking my signature. ‘Have a nice day, sir.’

  I smiled back at her and sauntered upon the chlorine-smelling tiled floor to the back and exited to the vast green area hidden behind the building. I got Alice in Wonderland vibes as the oasis of palm trees, clear-water lake with playful ducklings, picnic tables, and mini-golf course welcomed me. The cement jungle of Athens seemed miles away. A world of vivid greens and a rainbow of flowers unfolded, and if it were not for the dozens of sickly-looking elders, it would have been a heavenly image.

  Most relatives walk straight up to their grandfather or grandmother, having enjoyed the view and facilities upon their first visit. This I guessed as I was the only one standing by the patio doors. A bald man in his early forties in a shirt a bit too small for his body, with the SERENITY logo printed upon it, came to my side.

  ‘Can’t find your loved one?’ he asked in a voice that revealed a man trying to cope with a cold.

  The kind man listened to me and asked me to follow him. Soon, I sat beside the old lady, dressed in pitch black clothes from top to bottom. Even her pure white hair was caged in a black see-through hairnet.

  Even though her story was a tragic one, the winter sun, the surroundings and the strong Greek coffee made the next half an hour pass by rather enjoyably.

  Leaving the nursing home, I felt more puzzled than before. My dead billionaire case was on life support, with me electroshocking it back to life.

  If only Ioli had picked up her phone at that very moment. Maybe, things would have played out differently. Maybe, people now deceased would still be breathing under the sun.

  But, as I held my cell phone to my ear all I heard was multiple beeps followed by Ioli’s voice message.

  Chapter 25

  Funny how we all remember the exact moment and location when Lady Tragedy strikes.

  Ioli was already having a bad day. Two words we say to cover all the crap we can’t be bothered to number.

  A careless run-in with the corner of the kitchen table, offering a fine, round, purple bruise.

  A late night argument with Mark about things that seemed insignificant an hour later.

  Her monthly period deciding to arrive early and with force.

  A infant son crying through the night due to fever.

  A dent and a scratch on her beloved car. Ioli reversed; the trash can came forward.

  Driving to work, having to deal with Athens’ infamous morning traffic jams while drinking your second coffee, wishing for its magical powers to help with your ‘lack of sleep’, menacing migraine.

  A bad day by definition.

  Ioli didn’t manage to get much done during her first hour at the office. Her back and her head competed to see who could cause her more discomfort.

  She stood up, opened her desk drawer and took out two painkillers. The little white pills sat on the tip of her tongue as she raised her green tea to her lips. She then took out a maxi pad from the bottom drawer and headed to the bathroom.

  As she sat down on the cold toilet seat, her phone vibrated in the right pocket of her navy blue jeans.

  ‘Babe, I’m sorry. Love, Dr. Jackass,’ she read Mark’s message. As her finger began to type a reply, she heard Koula call out to her.

  ‘Ioli, you there?’

  ‘Yes, Koula. I’ll be out in five,’ Ioli replied, failing to hide the annoyance in her voice.

  ‘Where’s your pager? There have been multiple breakouts from Korydallos prison, and there’s an on-going uprising. It’s chaotic. Wardens have asked for police and army backup. We have been teamed up. Me, you, Adam and Nick. Car 17, down in the parking. We are waiting for you.’

  Boy, can Koula talk fast.

  ‘On my way.’

  Fucking wicked day, more like it.

  It was as her wet hand grabbed the door-knob that the thought ran through her tired mind. Shivers travelled down her spine and her heart changed its rhythmic pace. ‘The Olympus killer,’ she said.

  Her first big case. The maniac who wished her dead. The idea of him being loose frightened an otherwise fearless Cara. Her mind thinking only of Icarus, her son.

  She took out her phone and called Mark. He answered straight away.

  ‘Hey, glad you called. Was thinking ‘bout last night and...’

  ‘Mark, listen to me,’ she said, her tone scaring him to silence.

  ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘Have you left home yet?’

  ‘No. On my way now.’

  ‘Cancel your shift. Don’t take Icarus to the babysitter. Stay with him and head out of town. A fun day trip...’

  ‘Babe, slow down. What’s happening?’

  ‘I’m running down the stairs. We have been called to Korydallos prison. There’s an uprising, and many inmates have escaped...’

  ‘The Olympus killer?’

  ‘Maybe. Please...’

  ‘Don’t stress. I will take him to see my mother in the village. Don’t worry about us, but for the love of God, please be careful. Don’t be the hero. Let someone else deal with...’

  ‘Love you. Talk later,’ Ioli said and jumped in the back of the police vehicle waiting for her.

  Korydallos was Greece’s major prison. The only one accommodating offenders serving life sentences. It’s tall, monotonous-beige walls hid appalling conditions for those enclosed inside. Outsiders judged the lack of European standards, yet the average Greek was glad to have the ‘animals’ thrown in a ‘cage’.

  ‘It’s a prison, not a hotel,’ my grandmother used to say.

  Like all days, the prison’s daily routine began at six o’clock sharp, with no signs of how the next hours would play out.

  The sinister voice took over the prison system as inmates were in the back-yard for their ‘free hour’ of the day. Some were in detention, others in the one-room library, others showering.

  ‘Attention, all inmates. Your help is needed to help Greece rise from its ashes. It is time you were freed,’ the distorted voice said, gaining their attention. The few guards –less than years gone by due to cutbacks- exchanged worried stares. Loud bangs echoed through the halls and around the building. All doors, even the outer gates opened. As though someone had pressed all release buttons on the control board.

  ‘Shit! Technology is always against us,’ a warden with thick hazelnut hair said to his partner.

  ‘The armor room is also open, my friends,’ the voice continued. ‘Take back your freedom,’ it said louder. ‘Rise, my brothers, rise!’

  It took a minute or so for the surreal scenario to sink in. One by one, the inmates cheered and ran for the front gates. Others ran inside in search of guns. Others to the nearest phone to call their associates on the outside.

  Wardens fired warning shots that were ignored.

  ‘Shoot at their feet,’ an officer commanded. ‘If needed... a bullet to the leg.’

  Chaos.

  Total chaos.

  Soon, inmates fell dead by the front gate, wardens were murdered and multiple fires broke out.

  Panic in the nearby neighborhoods spread like a new-born spark of fire playing in a pile of hay.

  Forty-three minutes after the voice’s announcement, Ioli arrived at the prison. All officers were provided with Kevlar helmets, an earpiece to listen to the commander of the operation, and a bulletproof vest.

  ‘Do we know which prisoners have escaped and which are still inside?’ Ioli asked.

  ‘No, not yet,’ a fellow officer replied. ‘We can’t be sure of anything as we are unable to enter various sections. Wardens and other prison personnel are being held hostage. Inmates have already sent out dema
nds for better conditions. Others are on a murder spree. Either killing inmates of different clans or taking revenge on personnel. The prison doctor was thrown out the window of the third floor... he was missing an arm.’

  One by one, the police officers listened to the plan, to their orders and entered the prison. Ioli knew well where she would be heading. Second floor, cell 52. The Olympus Killer.

  Most of the police force was deployed around the surrounding neighborhoods and roadblocks by the army formed a ring around the prison. One by one, escaped inmates fell dead if they resisted capture. Most raised the hands in the air, obeyed to drop their weapons and lay on the ground.

  Inside the prison, things were trickier. Gang mentality did not allow willing inmates to be surrounded. In groups, they fought against law enforcement officers, both sides suffering fatalities.

  Ioli crept past burnings officers and dumpsters releasing black smoke. Deafening gunfire bounced around the tall walls covering the yelling by all involved in the hellish day. Ioli ran up the metal stairway to the second floor, her gun faithfully by her side.

  Empty cells welcomed her. No one -seemingly- remained on the upper floors of the cockroach-infested establishment. Her breath stopped, lingering in her open mouth. She was just a cell away. She raised her firearm and leaped in front of the open cell bars.

  A half-naked body lay on the dirty floor. Blood all over. A screwdriver decorated with thick blood by the stabbed prisoner. The word ARES written in blood on the cracked mirror above the moldy sink.

  He killed him on the first chance he got. He will never change.

  Suddenly, a hand fell upon her gun, trying to pull it away from her. Another hand slithered around her neck.

  ‘My Athena!’

  Every hair and pore on her skin stood up. That familiar demonic hiss of his voice. His twisted, perverted mind still set on murdering the ancient Olympian gods. Ioli bowed and bit his arm with force, escaping his tight hold.

  ‘Ooh,’ he said, and his green eyes opened with excitement. ‘Just like old times,’ he said and licked his lips.

  Ioli kicked backwards, hitting him right between his thighs. He yelled in pain, let go of her gun and took a step back.

  ‘Is that any way to treat an old friend? I know you have missed me, my sweet honey ball of rage.’

  Ioli stood her ground opposite him, raising her gun towards him. He looked different. He had shaved away his rich hair, a long, untamed beard hung from his skinny face, and he looked unhealthy, dirty, sickly. Yet, the evil smirk was still there. That flash of passion in his eyes; passion for killing.

  ‘I never did get the chance to kill you,’ she said.

  He laughed hysterically and mocked the word. ‘Kill? Me? I made you!’

  ‘Attack me,’ Ioli said, a cool, calm tone travelling with the words.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Attack me,’ she repeated, kicking the screwdriver in his direction. ‘Athena is still on your list.’

  The notorious Olympus Killer laughed again. He shook his head and knelt to pick up the bloody tool. He stood up straight and lifted it, ready to throw it over the rails.

  ‘Judge, I thought he was coming at me.’

  ‘What? What are you on about? And they call me crazy,’ he said, waving the long screwdriver at her.

  One shot.

  One shot between the eyes.

  That’s all it took. And she was finally free. Free from the only demon she had ever met.

  She never needed to use her rehearsed line in a court of law. Among the forty-seven bodies belonging to inmates that day, he was just a number. No one questioned her report.

  Evil was out of her life for good.

  Order was restored, and two hours later, Ioli was back at headquarters. As she picked up the phone to call Mark, she noticed my missed call and called me back as I was driving away from SERENITY.

  Who would have believed that after her retelling of her day that it was my words that would shock her?

  ‘The old lady called him what?’

  Chapter 26

  Valentina sat on the ground, her feet close to her body, her head upon her knees and her hands covering her ears. They listened as Jocasta and Eugene screamed and suffered, loud and clear through the hotel’s sound system. Each room equipped with cameras, microphones and speakers. Alexandro had tried to stop the sound, his heart breaking at Valentina’s obvious agony. The built-in speaker taunted them from the ceiling above. Alexandro pushed one of the armchairs below it and tried to reach it by standing on the chair’s tall back. Twice he fell before giving up and going next to Valentina, stroking her hair. As she cried, he stood back up and threw books to the relentless speaker above them. Nothing stopped Eugene’s cries from piercing their ears.

  Apollo, too, kept himself busy. He seemed preoccupied with the marble fireplace.

  ‘It’s blocked,’ Alexandro said as he stood on the armchair. ‘Sealed like everything in this fucking room.’

  Apollo nodded and continued to inspect the walls. As Alexandro gave up with his book tossing and sat beside Valentina, Apollo began to move around the various ornaments on the mantel shelf.

  With the final beep of the digital heart-beat, a short-lived silence spread in the library. Short-lived as a loud, earth-shaking sound made Valentina and Alexandro to look up towards Apollo.

  Apollo stood in amazement as the entire fireplace began to move clockwise, revealing a passage behind it.

  ‘I knew it,’ he announced, beaming and raising his fist into the air.

  ‘What is that?’ Elias asked in the next room, placing his ear on the cool white wall. ‘Like someone moving around large rocks.’

  ‘Bastards get... getting their next kill... kill... killing device ready. Are we... hmm... next?’ his brother Dinos replied, his childhood stutter returning. ‘Well, there go, goes years of therapy... down the... the... the drain!’

  ‘Just relax,’ Clio said, placing her hand on his shoulder. Easier said than done, she thought and then spoke. ‘Maybe, it’s one of the guests. Maybe we should yell for help?’

  ‘And, if it’s not them? If it’s our killers?’ Elias asked, his palms and right ear still upon the wall.

  ‘They are planning on killing us anyway, right? What have we got to lose?’ Clio replied.

  The triplets exchange a meaningful stare, before beginning to scream for help and banging on the wall. The loud sound had died out, yet no reply ever came.

  ‘This is hopeless,’ Dinos said and sat down on the floor.

  ‘This is hopeless,’ Diana also said as she opened all the kitchen cupboards and checked for food or anything helpful towards an escape. ‘Out of all the places, I get stuck in a food-less kitchen. Well, screw my freaking luck, hey?’

  Below her, in one of the many basements of the vast building, Maximos had just woken up. An insomniac since his rebellious teen years, the sleeping gas offered his body a chance to rest.

  His eyes opened in the dim-lighted room. He was lying down, unable to get up. As he wiggled his body, he felt and heard chains move and rattle.

  ‘At least I’m horizontal. My feet have been killing me,’ he joked.

  Jokes were always his safe place. Scruffy-looking since childhood with manly features, most expected him to be the Alpha type, rough, Greek villager and Maximos stepped right into the shoes society made for him. Yet, deep down a gentle soul rested. A soul that enjoyed fine art, French cuisine and classical music. Aspects even close friends did not know about. Maximos played the part of the macho, cursing farmer well.

  ‘I’ve had a good life,’ he whispered. Words destined for the comfort of his own ears. He had many regrets. Regrets he was not willing to admit, even to himself. His uproarious laughter followed. ‘Damn right, I had a good life,’ he said louder.

  The darkness did not reply.

  Maximos started to study the ceiling. Counting the cracks. Watching a fat moth being lured to the two faint light bulbs. He moved around his broad shoulders and li
stened to them crack. His mind travelled to Ramona, the olive-skinned Spanish lady that ran the beauty parlor at the end of his street. He paid her well, for her massages. Every Sunday at twelve. The only day he did not work. After church, he would swim for an hour in his near Olympic-dimension-sized swimming pool, shower and then enjoy her gentle, expert hands.

  He was not sure how long had passed since he had awoken, but he was certain that he was bored. Bored of the room, and bored of his thoughts.

  ‘Excuse me,’ he called out. ‘Mister sicko with the robot voice?’ he asked, raising his voice. ‘I’m bored. Can we get this over and done with?’

  Silence.

  ‘Pretty please?’ he mocked.

  Still no reply.

  ‘Oh, come on, dude. What’s your plan? Bore me to death? I’m hungry and need to shit like a constipated cow given laxatives. If you are not killing me now, untie me. Play some music. Say something I’m giving up on you!’

  With that lyric in mind, Maximos spent the next fifty minutes singing and talking to himself. A restless spirit, being tied down was torture enough. If he only knew what the future held for him, maybe he wouldn’t be in such a rush to be executed.

  ‘Good afternoon, Greece. It is with joy that certain demands have been met. I am sure as this is a matter of life and death, you have all been keeping up with the on-going news. The prime minister’s speech and the new measures announced satisfy us. Yet, more needs to be done in the right direction. Our major demands, known from the beginning, have not been met. We are not irrational. We will not be unreasonable. No one will be executed as steps were made in the right direction. We are fighting for the Greeks and their survival. No more demands will be made. You have all day to announce the passing laws. Laws that will satisfy all demands made by us so far. If not, the first criminal will be executed in two hours. Then the next and the next. Every two hours. Until none are left, and their blood will be on your hands, Mister Prime-Minister.’

  Maximos rolled his eyes. ‘Great, another two hours stuck here.’

  ‘Two hours in the prison of my mind, prison of my mind. Two whole hours... la la la la,’ he sang as he banged his head on the steel plate he lay on.