Greek Island Mysteries Boxed Set (Books 1-2-3): Gripping, psychological mystery/thrillers destined to shock you!
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Greek Island Mysteries Box Set
(Three stand-alone thrillers)
Greek Island
Mysteries
By Luke Christodoulou
Copyrighted Material
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
The right of Luke Christodoulou to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission.
This book is a work of fiction and any resemblances to persons (living or dead) or events is purely coincidental.
Published by: G.I.M.
Edited by: Carol Tietsworth
https://writerreadr.wordpress.com/
Cover design: Maria Nicolaou (Mj.Vass)
http://99designs.com/users/1158351
Copyright © 2016 by Luke Christodoulou
Books by Luke Christodoulou:
The Olympus Killer (Greek Island Mystery #1) - 2014
The Church Murders (Greek Island Mystery #2) - 2015
Death Of A Bride (Greek Island Mystery #3) – 2016
Murder On Dipslay (Greek Island Mystery #4) – 2017
Hotel Murder (Greek Island Mystery #5) – 2018
24 Modernized Aesop Fables - 2015
Praise for the Greek Island Mysteries (Book Series):
All books in the series are rated 4-plus stars on Amazon, Goodreads and Book Reviewing Blogs.
‘The Church Murders would appeal to any reader who enjoys murder mysteries, suspenseful reads, or action adventure novels. I am pleased to recommend this book and hope that author Christodoulou is working on his next book in this promising series.’
- Chris Fischer for Readers’ Favorite
‘The Greek James Patterson strikes again.’
- Greek Media
‘… does a masterful job writing a twisted murder story set under the Greek sun.’
- Ruth Rowley
‘Greece is proud to have such a masterful writer. Death of A Bride is his best offering by far.’
- Athens Review Of Books
‘Death Of A Bride is a superb murder/mystery. An Agatha Christie tale set in the 21st century.’
- National Society of the Greek Authors
‘A spellbinding tale… shrouded in mystery and inflamed with revenge.’
- Elaine Bertolotti (Author)
‘Great entertainment that begs to be made into a movie (…) a wealth of great stories here, well-paced and filled with believable characters, beautiful Greek imagery, fascinating insights into Greek culture and some wonderful, humorous touches. Excellent plot twists too - I really didn’t see those coming. These stories can rival the bestsellers and - to be honest - the book knocks many of the famous names out of the park - an easy style, intense plot-lines, superbly lifelike characters and all this against the backdrop of gorgeous Greece and its fascinating history and culture.’
- Meandthemutts Book Reviewer
‘The Church Murders is a juxtaposition of the beautiful (and gorgeously described) Greek Isles and the brutal, horrific murders that take place there.’
- Michael Young History (Author)
‘Another one I could not put down.’ – Jan Felton (Goodreads Reviewer)
‘… meticulously crafted work. The author delivers another unique, powerful and provocative story.’
- Alex (Amazon Reviewer)
‘Anxiously waiting for the next instalment!’ - Jimmy Andrea (Amazon Reviewer)
‘A spell-bounding thriller.’ - Daniel T.A. (Author)
‘As seductive as a Sudoku puzzle, the writer has crafted an ingenious plot with nothing less than stunning revelations at the conclusion.’
- Julius Salisbury (Author)
‘If you like murder mysteries with great characters, atmospheric locations and a suspenseful, interesting plot to keep you turning the pages, then this book has been written for you.’ –Ben (Amazon Reviewer)
‘An engrossing murder mystery about a series of murders taking place on Greek islands.’
- Saritha S (Goodreads Reviewer)
‘A tale of Terror! A page-turning murder mystery’.
- Sheri A. Wilkinson (Book Blog Reviewer)
‘The author builds the main characters weaving them seamlessly with the plotting of a great story; even when he steps away from the present day mayhem. It’s art in words at the highest pinnacle of a writer’s work.’
- Rose Margaret Phillips (Book Blog Reviewer)
Greek Island Mystery #1
(Stand-alone thriller)
THE
OLYMPUS
KILLER
By Luke Christodoulou
Copyrighted Material
Praise for THE OLYMPUS KILLER
(Greek Island Mystery #1 – Stand-alone Thriller)
BOOK OF THE MONTH (May 2014) - Psychological Thrillers (GOODREADS)
BOOK OF THE MONTH (June 2014) - Nothing better than reading (GOODREADS)
BOOK OF THE MONTH (October 2014) - Ebook Miner (GOODREADS)
‘…unlike many crime thrillers I have read before—which tend to be heavy and depressing by their very nature and the crimes and events upon which the plots are constructed—I did not find that to be the case with this novel. Quite the contrary. Mr. Christodoulou adeptly weaves anecdotal humor into the novel, along with Greek mythology, history, rich and flavorful Greek culture and food—all without detracting from the seriousness of the events—while bringing the story to brilliant life. For life is what continues to happen despite tragedy striking and heinous crimes ripping people’s worlds apart.’
AuthorM.J.
‘A journey of fast paced kills and sharp turns through the exotic Greek islands. The location descriptions were wonderful, descriptive and accurate. It is well written with intense action and superb characterization (foul mouth Ioli Cara and a couple of very Greek grandmothers were highly enjoyable). As seductive as a Sudoku puzzle, the writer has crafted an ingenious plot with nothing less than stunning revelations at the conclusion. In short, if you want a book that will shock and thrill you, read this one.’ Author J.Salisbury
‘Truly a mystery to rival Patterson.’ Ruth Rowley, USA
‘An excellent, spellbinding psychological thriller.’ Jimmy Andrea, UK
‘The Olympus Killer is one amazing book…’ Raghavendra. India
‘I highly recommend this book to everyone…’ Kristin T, Canada
‘An interesting twist on the usual psychological thrillers, I found it well-written and also quite interesting in terms of the Greek mythological elements to it.’ MrsG, UK
To my wife Polina for her love, support and patience.
Thank you for reminding me to live life to the fullest.
THE OLYMPUS KILLER
“As Dawn prepared to spread her saffron mantle over the land, Zeus the Thunderer gathered the gods to the highest peak of many-ridged Olympus, and spoke to them while all listened: ‘Hear me, gods and goddesses, while I say what my heart prompts. Let none of you try to defy me…”
HOMER, The Iliad, Book VIII
Chapter 1
The bright Greek sun had just sunk into the ocean.
It had been a beautiful sunset. The way the light jumped upon the waves, en-flaming the waters of Vathy Bay, was spectacular.
‘‘Eye candy,’’ Stacy thought as she ambled past the colourful, little fishing boats, all lined up
, waiting for their masters to arrive before setting off for the night’s late catch.
Stacy realised that this was the first time she had truly been alone since her divorce was finalized last week, back home in L.A. Her socialite friends had persuaded her to get away from it all and the very next day they were on their way to the Greek island of Rhodes.
It was so quiet and peaceful by the rock where she had sat and stared at the full moon. She gazed upon the shadowy still ships sleeping on the dark horizon, before taking off her red Manolo Blahnik heels and carefully climbing down to lie on the golden sandy beach, isolated by the rocks from the rest of the world. All the aloneness felt a tad weird after being surrounded by crowds of every age and colour imaginable, just a few days ago at Faliraki, Rhode’s main club scene. After Rhodes, the gang headed to the island of Ko where they continued to party hard. She smiled as she remembered them all lined up on the bar counter at Jackson’s Beach Bar dancing the night away. Now, she was enjoying the serenity offered by the island of Samos. Jennifer, Ginger and the rest of the girls had done a terrific job taking her around the Greek islands – island-hopping as Ginger liked to call it - to help her forget him. Him. She wondered what The God was up to at the moment. That’s what everyone called him at the company.
‘‘Hmm… to everyone but me,’’ she thought out loud. Deep down, certain feelings lingered in her, but she could no longer bear the pain of staying with him.
‘‘Cheating bastard,’’ she said and closed her eyes.
‘‘Beautiful night.’’ A voice from behind her interrupted her reverie.
Startled, she let out a brief scream as she leaped to her feet and turned towards the direction of the voice.
‘‘I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you,’’ the handsome, black-haired man rushed to say, the moonlight revealing his sparkling green eyes as it danced across his face.
‘‘I don’t scare that easily,’’ she replied, trying to catch her breath. ‘‘You surprised me, that’s all. How long have you been there?’’
‘‘Oh, I’m not a stalker,’’ he joked, mocking her with his smooth, relaxing voice. ‘‘I come here to write.’’ His whole face lit up as he produced a silver Parker pen and a thin red notebook out of his backpack as evidence.
‘‘So you live here?’’
‘‘No, only been here a couple weeks. I’m on holiday too. Alone,’’ he pointed out. ‘‘Tom Smith,’’ he said, stretching out his right hand.
‘‘Stacy Anderson,’’ she replied. Her hand fitted perfectly into his. It felt strange using her maiden name again. Even stranger was the fact that she felt comfortable with this man she had just met. Ginger would have been so proud to see them sitting side by side in the sand, making small talk as the warm Aegean Sea caressed their feet.
‘‘So what are you writing about?’’ Stacy inquired.
‘‘It’s a thriller!’’ he announced, deepening his voice and taking on a scary tone. They both laughed. It had been a while since she had laughed and meant it.
‘‘I love thrillers,’’ she said with flirtatious excitement. It was the last thing Stacy Anderson ever said. As the knife hit her chest and penetrated her heart, Stacy tried to catch a breath and scream out, but Tom’s left hand quickly covered her mouth. His right hand lifted the knife again and the blade flashed silver in the moonlight. Blood was dripping from its sharp end as he stabbed her again with more passion this time and with obvious exhilaration in his devilish green eyes. All seven hits were to her heart. Tom leaned in close and slowly unbuttoned her bloody shirt, taking his time before turning his attention to the button of her jeans.
He gazed upon her beautiful naked body, gently touching her fake breasts. They were perfect, probably the best money could buy.
Then, with savage fury, he plunged the knife between Stacy’s legs, burying it deep inside her, before slicing viciously upward. Tom stopped, pleased that the pomegranate in his bag would fit. He stood up admiring his work. He then walked into the water and with a smile of satisfaction upon his face, Tom swam away.
*****
Chapter 2
8:47 and as always here in Greece, I was early. I laughed at the thought that New York made me quick. Apparently, the years of being a homicide detective in the Big Apple had left their marks on me. Athens was a jungle too, but a smaller jungle than my previous one. Just an hour ago, I had received a phone call from one of the many charming secretaries down at Headquarters.
‘‘Captain Costa Papacosta?’’
‘‘Yes?’’
‘‘Good morning,’’ she said with a dull tone and proceeded to inform me that the chief had requested to see me. My office down Athinon Avenue, where the crime investigations department was housed would not be seeing me today. I had to be at Headquarters at nine o’clock sharp.
‘‘What is this about?’’ I said as I managed to interrupt her fast flow of words. We Greeks talk fast, but boy, this girl took the cake.
‘‘Be there at nine. Have a nice day, Captain,’’ she said and the phone went silent.
Captain. I still haven’t gotten used to being called Captain. Since I quit the NYPD two years ago, came back to my homeland and joined the force here, I had been Police Lieutenant Costa Papacosta.
It was still a step back from being a N.Y. detective and the money, believe or not, was even lousier, but I did not care. I wanted to get away. Besides, life here is cheaper than back in the States and you actually get to see the sun every day.
9:12 the clock said and I was still sitting in the badly-lit hallway on the top floor of the huge, grey building with the hundred little windows that was the headquarters of the Hellenic Police.
A few minutes later, a tall girl with huge brown eyes hidden behind strict, black, reading glasses, wearing a tight ‘woman’s suit’ and a fake smile informed me that the chief was ready to see me now.
‘‘Was he preparing himself all this time?’’ I said and earned myself a semi-confused, semi-angry look as she did not register my attempt at a joke. Maybe the tight suit squeezed all the humour out of her body, leaving nothing behind but the perfect police secretary.
‘‘Enter,’’ she said coldly and showed me the slightly opened door with her right palm.
The office was huge compared to my own and just a little smaller than my filthy, rented apartment down at Ampelokipous. It was fitted with outdated, worn-out, Persian designed carpets. On the surrounding walls were portraits of past presidents, prime-ministers, retired chiefs, maps of Greece and various police symbols. The desk was made out of thick, dark Acacia wood and everything upon it was tidied in military fashion. The only thing that looked remotely homey in the whole place was a colourful, handmade frame with a photo of the chief at a younger age playing with his two boys.
‘‘Sit down, Costa. We need to talk.’’
I sensed an anxiety in his voice that I had never heard before. This is, after all, a man capable of scaring away Charo, the ferryman of the underworld himself! Well, at least that is what police officers joked about during very long coffee breaks.
‘‘Good morning. What’s this about, chief?’’ I asked as I slowly placed myself in the maroon armchair opposite his desk.
‘‘Do you watch the news, Costa?’’
‘‘Most times… yes,’’ I replied, slightly puzzled while picturing myself in my boxers sitting on my black leather couch with a kebab in one hand and a cold Mythos beer in the other, killing lonely nights in front of the TV.
‘‘What do you know about the murder in Chania 5 days ago?’’ he asked.
‘‘American tourist. In his late forties. Multi-millionaire CEO of a major pharmaceutical company in Chicago. On holiday in Crete with a young, hotter-than-the-weather twenty year old. Also American. He was found dead a few kilometers away from his hotel in the outskirts of Chania. He was completely naked, tied to a tree, stabbed…’’
‘‘Stabbed? Now there’s an understatement! His whole stomach and head were cut open with his g
uts hanging out all over the place,’’ the chief interrupted and then asked in a slightly calmer tone, ‘‘and what do you know about the murder in Samos 3 days ago?’’
‘‘Again, American tourist. Early thirties. Rich, and if I may add, beautiful blonde woman. Police found her, naked on the beach, also stabbed.’’ As I answered, I realised the similarities so the chief’s next words did not shock me.
‘‘It was the same killer, Costa.’’
‘‘And what facts do we have to base this on?’’ I asked.
‘‘Always the Yankee detective,’’ the chief said smiling at me. ‘‘The two were married until a week ago. A young lieutenant down in Crete made the connection. You see, the woman was using her maiden name. Got the lab results too, this morning, that confirms that the two were struck by the same blade. The lieutenant’s name is Ioli Cara; she will be waiting for you in Crete tomorrow.’’
Now his words shocked me.
‘‘What? What do I have to do with all this?’’
The chief looked straight at me and spoke with the tone of a father explaining to his son that some things in life we have to do whether we like them or not.
‘‘You were a homicide detective. In New York. You have seen freaky shit before.”
“Freaky shit? Sir, I don’t…”
“We kept the gruesome details out of the media,” he admitted and took a deep breath that ended with a long sigh.
“The man’s head was cut wide open and his brains were carved in half.”
He gazed at me to check that he had my full attention and added, ‘‘the sick bastard even tore open the woman’s vagina and placed a pomegranate inside her.”
‘‘A what?’’
‘‘You heard me, Papacosta! It’s July. There are more tourists on the islands than locals. The victims were American and any potential witnesses will most likely be tourists. I want you on this. End of discussion. Get your flight details from Helen outside and keep me informed.”
Before I could say anything more, I was in my car, plane ticket and case files on the back seat of my second hand, black Audi A3, on my way home to pack.
*****
Chapter 3