Greek Island Mysteries Boxed Set (Books 1-2-3): Gripping, psychological mystery/thrillers destined to shock you!

by Luke Christodoulou

  “You change clothes?” Ioli asked sarcastically.

  “Ha ha. What are you, ten?”

  “Don’t get me wrong, all your clothes look the same to me; they scream homicide detective from a mile. You are allowed colours, you know. Or maybe even live on the wild side and wear a pair of jeans!”

  She was right. Shades of grey and brown pretty much formed my wardrobe. I looked at Ioli, with her faded blue jeans, her elegant pink shirt and her black short heeled shoes with the pink strass line on the side and I knew she was right.

  “Down to Hallidon, it is with you!”

  “I fear to ask, but I’ll take a crazy guess and say is that a shopping street?”

  “Bingo.”

  “Forget it!”

  “Oh, come on. Take something from Chania with you. My treat. Well, the first item at least!” she laughed.

  “Going away present?” the obvious sadness in my voice was heard.

  She looked down and then gazed towards the sea for a moment before asking “When did the Chief say you had to be back?”

  “He didn’t. But I can’t stay down here forever working on a single case. My team needs me back home. This is your case, Cara. You’ll be fine without me.”

  “I only wished you or I believed that was true.”

  “Ok, no more! The end! No more self pity! The case isn’t dead yet. We are going to go shopping for an hour and then with two of the strongest coffees in hand, we are going to go over all the case from scratch. And I mean everything!”

  “Really? We are going shopping?” she asked excitedly.

  “An hour! That’s it.”

  As we walked down Hallidon Street, I could not shake the feeling of living a normal life. I had not expected or even wanted to return to the real world. I had embraced my darkness. The darkness that had entered my life, overshadowing all parts of it. I made a decision of dedicating myself to my work. A man with no fear of dying is a great asset to the police force. Some call them heroes, some call them crazy.

  I pushed the changing room’s velvet curtain aside and walked in front of the sizeable oval mirror. Ioli sat on a yellow bean bag with a smile ranging from earlobe to earlobe as the sales lady who remarkably perceived that everything in her store suited me announced “Now this suits you well… Yes, yes… It’s perfect on you… Don’t you agree?” she asked Ioli, but did not wait for an answer before informing me that if my wife agrees then I must buy it!

  “Oh, we are not married, she’s…” I began to explain.

  “Oh, I know. Who gets married in nowadays right? Though don’t you leave a hot, pretty, young girl like this waiting too long mister or it won’t matter how great your ass looks in these jeans!”

  Ioli was still laughing as we exited the shop, having bought not one, not two, but three pairs of jeans and four shirts of different colours. She finally exhaled with a smile and wiped away her tears.

  “That lady is crazy, but she sure did give us a good laugh.”

  “Glad you are amused. So, where to next?”

  “Your hour is up, Captain. You promised me to go over the case and I realise how much you love shopping but a promise is a promise!”

  “You’re as mad as that sales lady if you believe I enjoy shopping!”

  “Let’s go shopping for clues then, Mr I’m-a-man-and-I-hate-shopping!”

  *****

  Chapter 19

  There we were. Sitting side by side again. Whole different scenery though. We sat in the middle of the conference room in Chania’s police station staring at the wooden notice boards that stood opposite us. The clock on the cheerful, cherry red wall had struck midnight an hour ago, and everyone but the overnight officer who was watching the late night news on rerun in the reception area, had gone home. It was six hours ago when determined as ever we flicked on the refulgent lights and spread out all the case files on the long, wooden table. Ioli had two officers roll in two notification boards and as they closed the aluminium and glass door behind them she announced, “And let the games begin.”

  But before I could let the games begin, I did not resist remarking.

  “Never saw a bright red wall in a police conference room before.”

  “My idea. Painted it myself. I went to a couple of lessons about colours and how they affect us and got inspired. This colour increases your creativity and your memory.”

  “Ok, now that’s out the way…” I said and walked over to the table.

  I wrote 1ST VICTIM: ERIC BLAIR with my black marker on a white piece of paper and pinned it to the top of the first board. I pinned Eric’s picture under it.

  “Eric Blair. Age: 47. CEO of a major pharmaceutical company. Referred to as The God for his Mida’s touch in running his business. Cheated on his wife often. On holiday in Crete when drugged, tied to an oak tree and gutted. Killer tore open his head and lacerated his brains into half. According to the professor, the killer is re-enacting scenes from ancient mythology. Eric Blair is considered to be Zeus while his wife, victim number two, is considered to be Hera.”

  Ioli rose up from the blue office chair and pinned 2ND VICTIM: STACY ANDERSON-BLAIR under Eric’s photograph and proceeded to pin Stacy’s photograph under her title.

  “Stacy Blair. Age: 33. Murdered in Samos. Several stabs to her heart. Pomegranate placed in her cut-open vagina. Not drugged. Believed to have been ambushed by the killer at the beach. None of her friends saw her with anyone and reported that she was going to take a walk down on the beach before returning to their hotel room.”

  “Alicia Robinson. Age:21. Stabbed in the back in Cyprus. Iron spike through her body along her spine. Arms cut off. Believed to have been positioned to resemble the famous statue, Aphrodite of Melos. Nothing in common with the previous two victims. She was British and much younger. Never been to the States and was in school last time the Blairs visited England. I highly doubt they ever met. We must assume that victims are chosen based on specific attributes. The God was Zeus. His cheated-on-wife was Hera. The model was Aphrodite…”

  “And each god was murdered on an island which, according to myth was their birthplace or at least their special island, as the professor said,” Ioli added.

  “Let’s look through the list and make a possible next victim list,” she continued.

  “Good idea.”

  A few hours later we had covered the entire second board with our guesses.

  The main problem was the vast scope both of area to cover and of possible victims.

  We had the list of the Olympian Gods, but no pattern as to whom may be next.

  “By age of the Gods?” I suggested.

  “Immortal Gods had an age?”

  I cleared my throat and explained, “I mean, some pro-existed others. Aphrodite was the daughter of Uranus. Zeus and Hera were children of Cronos. Their kids followed after. Maybe he will kill next the siblings of Zeus, then his children.”

  “Could be. Maybe there’s a pattern with the islands,” Ioli said as she rolled open a well-preserved map of the islands.

  “If there is one, I do not see it,” I said after circling Crete, Cyprus and Samos with red and the rest from the professor’s list in green.

  “How did he find them, is my main question. I mean, he found a married couple who had traits of Zeus and Hera, a model for Aphrodite… these aren’t random pickings.”

  “Social networks? Gossip sights? Quite a few mentioned the Blair’s divorce.”

  “1. Zeus… 2. Hera… 3. Poseidon,” I murmured through the list.

  “Poseidon doesn’t have a specific island/city,” I continued.

  “He had the sea. Could be a fisherman or a marine biologist or whatever and killed anywhere in the Greek seas,” Ioli complained.

  “We could put out a warning to boat owners to be careful not to pick up strangers travelling by themselves or a general warning to not get on stranger’s boats,” I thought out loud.

  “Yeah, and ruin the country’s tourism. The chief would have us burned
at the stake,” Ioli said and took a much-needed sip of water.

  “He’s already pissed as hell with the media connecting the two murders between them and with the killing in Cyprus. He had not revealed that Stacy was Eric’s ex-wife and that they were killed by the same man. Never mind mentioning Alicia in Cyprus. To be honest, I was hoping that with the pressure from the media he would have assigned a bigger team to us. Maybe a permanent forensics officer or a profiler. I understand he is under pressure from the minister to keep things quiet as it is tourist season and all, but this is a serial killer!”

  “We could write down a rough profile of the killer and fax it over to a professor I have in mind that taught us at the academy, to have a look at it. He was kind of an arrogant bastard, but as far as profilers go he is considered one of the best.”

  “Ok, let’s finish with the Olympian Gods’ list and then work on a profile.”

  She nodded in agreement as I read the fourth god from the list.

  “Demetra. Could be a farmer or a farmer’s wife. Again, too vast. 5. Athena. Anyone he would consider intelligent. Holy city: Athens. With a metropolitan area of over 3 million!”

  “Could you imagine putting out a warning all clever women please stay at home?” Ioli said smiling.

  “That’s one way of dealing with the traffic,” I said, recalling the endless hours of waiting in my car on my way to work.

  “He has only killed foreigners so far. Do you think that is part of his MO?”

  “Good observation, Cara. I think tourists are easier targets for him. Maybe if our killer is as I believed a foreigner with knowledge of the sea and the islands, he doesn’t speak Greek and approaches tourists speaking English…”

  “Believed?”

  “Well, yeah. I thought the killer was an American based on thinking that he knew the Blairs. Now, he could be Greek.”

  “But definitely still a boat owner?”

  “For sure. Though he did travel to Cyprus by plane.”

  “6. Hestia,” Ioli read.

  “Also Crete. Known for giving health and protecting doctors. He could target anyone working in healthcare,” she added.

  “We have to be honest with ourselves. We don’t have anything to continue on. If he is going to kill again, there is no stopping him. Look at the next ones. Apollo and Artemis. Born in Delos! An uninhabited island. Will it be a double murder?” she continued in despair.

  “Most likely. Doubt he would kill one and then the other. He is too clever for that. He knows we would protect the other twin and have men guard Delos day and night. God damned papers. Running the Olympus Killer story. Now, he knows we have connected the murders and the whole mythology idea behind his killings. Now, he will be even more careful.”

  After she exhaled, she said, “out of the rest on the list only Hephaestus has an island, Lemnos. Aphrodite was killed. Ares, towns of Sparta and Mani and Hermes, no island or town.”

  I took a minute before saying, “Ok, we will alert Delos’ coastguards to be extra careful and check all boats passing near the island. Maybe even put extra routes… and… What would you say about a change in headquarters?”

  “Lemnos?”

  “Yep. I have a hunch he will murder again on an island. And even if I am wrong, he will eventually and we will be there when he does. He is fast. Fastest serial killer I have ever faced. Just days between kills.”

  “I’ll call Lemnos’ police too. Warn them to double check all new boats in their harbours. We could get lucky.”

  I nodded back at her as she flipped open her laptop to start typing up a profile of the killer based on our assumptions and fax it over to the expert.

  After discussing the profile, the rest of the hours passed by in silence as we both sat reading through police reports, testimonials, autopsy reports, crime scene photographs and drinking strong Greek coffees. Not strong enough, I thought as I awoke by the voices of the morning officers passing outside the door. The precise clock’s hands fixed at seven and twelve.

  “Cara. It’s seven in the morning,” I called over to Ioli, fast asleep and leaning on the table.

  She slowly lifted up her head and mechanically stretched out her hands.

  “Fuck,” she said as she rubbed her eyes.

  “Well, good morning to you too, sunshine!”

  *****

  Chapter 20

  I froze, for a quick second, at the sight of the white and blue Reims Cessna F-406 aircraft of the Hellenic Coast Guard.

  “Could it be any smaller?” I shouted across to Ioli as we fast paced across the runway towards the plane following a speedy junior grade Lieutenant.

  As we got closer, the aircraft’s engine came to life. The thin, young lieutenant stopped before two metal steps that were hanging from the plane’s narrow entrance. He helped Ioli up and smiled as I waved that I was fine to step on board by myself. He hopped on after me and secured the door behind him.

  I fell down into one of the grey leather chairs, strapped myself in tightly and closed my eyes. The twelve meter, twelve passenger seat plane was a claustrophobic nightmare to me.

  “You ok?” Ioli asked and sat down beside me.

  “Yeah, fine,” I lied.

  The lieutenant signalled a thumbs-up as he sat down beside the dark platinum-haired pilot with the black shades on. Soon, the plane was sprinting down the short runway. My heart beat was racing too. I felt the kick of the escape from the ground’s gravity and once again during a flight, I exhaled deeply.

  “We could have flown commercial, if you couldn’t handle this,” Ioli said politely.

  “Yeah, wait hours to catch a flight to Athens to wait hours to catch a flight to Myconos. And have the chief show up to bark for a few hours at the airport till the next flight. No, thank you,” I answered irritated.

  “Just saying.”

  “This is pissing me off big time!”

  “The plane?”

  “The whole body here-body there situation! It seems like all we are doing is hopping on planes and going island to island to see this guy’s mess.”

  “At least the flight’s only lasts an hour,” Ioli tried to cheer me up.

  “Good night,” I replied, closed my eyes and travelled to my happy place.

  Thankfully, the smooth flight came to end within fifty minutes. I was awoken when the plane’s wheel met with the ground in Mykonos.

  It was eleven o’clock in the morning and the colossal Mediterranean August sun was sizzling. The local police lieutenant stood in the shade by the small, dilapidated, bricked building that was used only for emergencies. He walked forward to greet us and take us to his car. It was only a few minutes drive to the port where the coast guard’s speed boat was waiting to take us across to Delos.

  “Lieutenant Douka, when was the killing reported?” Ioli asked as he turned the key of the vehicle. All we had received was a call from Mykonos requesting whoever was in charge of the Olympus killer case to come to Delos; the killer had struck again.

  “Killings,” he corrected her. “There are two bodies.”

  “Of course!” I said. “Apollo and Artemis! Have you identified the victims yet? Were the victims twins?”

  “No. Not yet…”

  “Do they look alike?”

  “Erm… Ok… You haven’t been told any details, I presume. The two bodies were decapitated. One head was found in the temple of Delians and the other, which was beaten to an unrecognisable state, was found in an area further down where a temple dedicated to Artemis used to stand. From their bodies I would say they were young, could be the same age, but as to whether they were twins or not, I cannot say. I believe they were tourists. The boy does not look Greek at all and the girl has an Irish flag tattoo on her right thigh.”

  “Is the coroner here yet?”

  “Nope. I think that they are going to fly someone over from Athens.”

  “Great!” I rolled my eyes.

  Only after he parked and we exited the patrol car did I look around. T
he white and blue houses, the sea of people strolling up and down and the road filled with motorcycles carrying beach clothes wearing teens. The outside atmosphere being in total contrast with the car’s atmosphere. A group of loud, teenage girls passed beside us wearing the shortest skirts imaginable. Hell, I’m pretty sure I have belts longer than those checked minis.

  As we walked down the cement paved road towards the coast guard’s speed boat, two voices were heard.

  “Captain Papacosta?” the smartly dressed woman called over as she approached me.

  “Ioli?” the familiar male voice came from the opposite direction.

  “Yes?” I replied, stopping to face the busty, intelligent-looking redhead.

  “Katerina Galani, I am with the local press. If you could have the courtesy of answering a few questions for me before the major outlets arrive?”

  “No comment,” I replied and turned to leave.

  “Do you realise how many tourists are going to cancel their trip to the islands due to your failure to catch this killer?” the assertive journalist snapped, disappointed by my dismissal.

  “What people don’t know can’t hurt them. It’s people like you, who love publishing all the gory details to sell more prints that are damaging tourism,” I answered quite proud of myself for remaining relatively calm.

  “Are the tourists safe, Captain?”

  “They could be if you would let me do my job.”

  “May the Gods be with you,” she shouted, watching me walk away. Ioli had her back turned towards me and was engaged in conversation with a man. I could not see his face, yet he gave me a familiarity feeling.

  “Giorgo?” I asked, surprised to see the young Cypriot officer standing there in shorts and a no fear T-Shirt.

  “Captain,” he replied with excitement and extended his hand towards my direction.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “On holiday with friends. Saw all the commotion and came down to see if I could be of any assistance. I told the local authorities that I worked on the case in Cyprus but they wouldn’t let me help out until your arrival.”