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

by Luke Christodoulou

  “Yes, of course,” he smiled slightly.

  “You have the right to be legally represented Mr Aggelopoule.”

  “Oh, yes. I have been told so but I don’t need a lawyer. I admit to all murders. I killed all of them. Every single person you mentioned, I slaughtered them. And please, call me Bill. I will not be answering any other questions, asked to Mr Aggelopoule.”

  I stared deep into his chartreuse green eyes and his soul did not move an inch as he pleaded guilty to all five murders. He remained tranquil as a windless sea. Ioli broke the moments of silence that followed.

  “Tea? Coffee? Before we get started and you explain to us exactly how you killed five innocent people.”

  “Coffee would be fine.”

  “Two coffees for us, too,” Ioli spoke to the tinted glass window.

  “We have an audience,” Bill said.

  “Before Captain Papacosta discusses with you the how and the when, I have one very simple question for you. Why?”

  “Why not?” he replied coldly.

  The door opened and coffees were served in silence. I picked up mine and took a long, slow sip.

  “Eric Blair,” I said and placed a photo of Eric’s body tied to the oak tree in front of him. He did not bother to look down.

  “Wanna share your story, Bill? This is truly a work of art.” I played to the tune of his sadistic mind.

  “Art? Yes, you could call it that. No story really. Saw him, drugged him, threw him in my rental car and drove up to the hills. The result you can see.”

  “What day was this?”

  “Wednesday, the 24th of July.”

  “How did you get to Crete?” Ioli asked. “We found no records of you travelling.”

  “I have my own, one crew boat. I am quite the sailor if I may say so myself.”

  “Where is the murder weapon?”

  “My Bowie knife? I threw it overboard in the open just a few miles out from Delos.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  “Did not feel like killing anyone anymore.”

  His calmness was annoying me. Arrogant answers and a confession to all those hideous crimes and not a single sign of remorse.

  “Thought you were going to kill all the gods,” I commented.

  “Ah, the Olympus Killer. Yes, I am a huge mythology fan, but I am sorry to disappoint you. There is no specific meaning to the way I killed them. I just felt like killing and thought to be creative. You see, I have not been myself since my Christina passed away.”

  “Going to go for an insanity plea?”

  “Excuse me? No, no. I am fully sane, I can assure you.”

  “Your wife did not pass away. She put a gun in her mouth. Found out about your sick side, did she?” Ioli snapped and at last he moved slightly forward and raised his voice.

  “My wife had troubles dealing with reality. Her mental state was not the best. She committed suicide in a moment of weakness. She has nothing to do with this and I forbid you to talk harsh about her. I killed and killed for the fun of it!”

  I laid all the case photographs in front of him.

  “Look at them! Is this your idea of fun?”

  “Suum cuique pulchrum est.”

  “To each his own is beautiful,” Ioli recited after him.

  “An educated woman! I love a woman who knows her Latin.”

  “So this is your preference for a good time huh? You admit to all these hideous, inhuman crimes?”

  “I do!” he replied to her.

  “For the tape. You admit that on the night of Wednesday, July the 24th you murdered Eric Blair?” I asked.

  “Yes.”

  “And you cut open his stomach and head?”

  “Yes.”

  “And on the night of Friday, July the 26th you murdered Stacy Anderson on the island of Samos?”

  He placed his hands on his legs and wiped his sweaty palms.

  “Yes.”

  “You stabbed her in her heart and tore her vagina?”

  “Yes,” he said, lowering his voice.

  “Cyprus, late Tuesday night, early Wednesday morning of July the 31st. You lured young, beautiful, innocent Alicia and you stabbed her and chopped off her arms like a butcher with a swine.” My nerves were getting the best of me.

  “Why are you telling me all this? I know what I did. I planned it for crying out loud.”

  “Delos, 8th of August…”

  “Yes, yes, yes! The twins. Heads cut off. Yes, yes, freaking yes! Are we done now?”

  “I will tell you when we are done. Where is your boat Bill?”

  “I set it on fire and put it in drive, just off the coast of Mykonos.”

  “How convenient. No murder weapon, no boat.”

  “I was covering my tracks.”

  “Why? You were planning on giving yourself up.”

  “Maybe I wasn’t at the time!”

  “What do you think your wife would have said? Proud of her murdering bastard of a husband. I would have killed myself too if I was dumb enough to have married you,” Ioli provoked him.

  He smacked his hands hard on the table’s surface knocking over his untouched coffee.

  “Now listen here. You have no right…”

  “What about these people’s right to live?” she threw the photographs at him. “Their mothers’ right to not have their kids slaughtered by a sick fuck like you.”

  “Leave me alone! I enjoyed killing them and I have admitted to all murders. Stop with the questions! I have no reason for what I have done. I’m crazy!”

  He let out a high pitched scream which ended in a howl and started to drub himself on the head with both his hands. The door was pushed open and two men retained his hands.

  “The time is 1500 hours and the interview is concluded.”

  I stood up and walked to the video recorder. I ejected the tape and took it over to the table.

  “This is the tape of your interview. I am sealing it in your presence.”

  “Take him away,” Ioli said, in disgust.

  As I sat back down and closed my eyes, the chief came flying in.

  “Well done to you both. We’ve got him on tape for all murders.”

  I turned around and gave it my best effort to smile.

  “Cheer up, Papacosta! The case is closed!”

  *****

  Chapter 29

  Ioli pushed open the rusty old door and walked out onto the roof. The sizzling sun blinding her as she looked to find me. I did not even bother to stop smoking. I leaned on the safety bar and gazed down, replaying the breaking news inside my head. The chief gave the performance of his career. With overwhelming enthusiasm he announced that the Olympus Killer was in custody and that the islands were safe once again. He assured them that Bill Aggelopoulos was the killer and he provided the fingerprints found on the golden mask as evidence of this.

  The cameras and the endless flashes suited the old man who was always better at politics and running things at headquarters rather than being out in the field. Playing golf with the mayor every other Sunday did not hurt his career either. I took out another cigarette, placed it on my lips and lit it with my first cigarette before it burned out.

  “Annoyed are we?”

  It was a difficult question to answer. I was annoyed, but I just could not pinpoint why exactly. Was I annoyed for not catching the killer myself? Was I annoyed at the chief’s impatientness to shout from the rooftops that the case was closed even when all we had was a testimony? Or maybe I was angry at my mind that was incapable of comprehending that Bill Aggelopoulos was the killer.

  “Are you thinking of an answer or are you just blanking me?”

  “Did he do it, Cara?”

  “He says he did. He certainly knows every detail about the murders and his fingerprints were on the mask. His mask according to your FBI friend.”

  “I know what he says. I want to know what you say. Your mind, your heart, your gut.”

  “I’m guessing yours are telling you that
it’s not him.”

  “I cannot shake the feeling that this is not over.”

  “Ok. Let’s, for the matter of argument, say you’re right. He is not our killer. Then that means he knows the killer right? He knows things about the victims that were not in the news. Maybe he is an accomplice. We never ran the thought that there could be two murderers,” she said.

  “How about we pass by his cell on our way out and ask him a few off-the-record questions?” she then asked.

  Luck was in our corner as the cell block guard happened to be an acquaintance of mine. Bumping into people you knew was something not so unusual in Greece. You could easily get talking with someone and find out you have the same roots and end up third cousins from your mother’s side.

  He opened the door for us and whispered in a guilty voice. “Five minutes… tops.”

  “You two again? Missed me already?” Bill asked, looking up at us.

  “You’re so charming, we couldn’t resist. So charming that we have difficulty believing that someone so charming is the Olympus Killer. What is it Mr Aggelopoule? Need for attention?” Ioli answered him.

  Clouds formed across his face. He squinted his eyes and looked right at us.

  “No wonder crime is so high. People give themselves up and you don’t believe them and send them on their way. I did all the murders. What you believe or don’t believe is your problem. I don’t know what else to say to get it into your thick police heads that I am the Olympus Killer.”

  “If you are our killer why did you stop? You want to prove you’re guilty? Tell us why? Give us a good story, Bill,” I said.

  “Who said I stopped?” he replied enigmatically. “You like stories, Captain? Well, here is a nice, short one for you. I am not a Christian. As a genuine Greek I still believe in the Twelve Gods of Olympus. But what did they do for my Christina? They let her go mad and take her own life. That is when I decided to kill the gods. Revenge them in a twisted way. Now get the fuck out of my cell. I know my rights, you cannot interrogate me here. Leave now or I will scream. Mad people do mad things you know.”

  As we walked to the car, Bill’s words were playing like a broken record.

  “Who said I stopped?” I whispered.

  “You got the feeling that that was a hint?”

  “It was something in those green eyes of his. I felt like he was saying that the murders will continue.”

  “He sure has the means to make things happen.”

  “Did I tell you that the Chief has given both of us two weeks paid complementary leave?”

  “You don’t say!”

  “I can’t tell you how to pass your vacation time, but I have heard that Lemnos is lovely this time of year.”

  “Only island left on the list. Hephaestus.”

  “Right! And this time we are going as the killer and not as police officers. We will look through the media, local registration offices, Facebook, Twitter and I don’t know what else and find possible targets. It will be a man that has a limp and has something to do with metals and/or fire. How many will fit that description?”

  “Only one way to find out,” she smiled at me and I felt glad that she was coming along with me on something that would most likely end up a wild goose chase.

  *****

  Chapter 30

  I had spent the last two days reading through the local registration office and all tourist bookings for arrivals during the last week and during the week to follow. I had two criteria as to highlight a name. Either medical problem noted or professions like blacksmiths, craftsmen, sculptors or a profession that dealt with metals, fire or volcanoes. These were all believed to be under the protective wing of Hephaestus, the god who according to myth was thrown by his mother Hera from the heights of Olympus down to Lemnos. Only an infant at the time, the fall caused him severe damage to his legs and he was often depicted in art as having a limp or carrying a walking stick.

  Lemnos had a population just shy of seventeen thousand and welcomed roughly twenty thousand tourists during the month of August. So far I had managed to slim down the numbers to a pool of one hundred and sixty two.

  “Call off the search party,” Ioli called over from my sofa where she had slept the last two nights. I offered to take the couch and give up my bed, but she would have no word for it. She had been playing around with her tablet, looking through newspaper clips and social media.

  “This is our target,” she said and placed the fragile gadget in my clumsy, technological non-friendly hands. I held on to it tightly and tried to make out the tiny writing.

  “Zoom in,” she advised me.

  “Does it have voice command?”

  “Give it here.”

  “It is from a local newspaper; the Voice of Lemnos. Firefighter Jason Vlahos, aged 29 was released from hospital today after three weeks of fighting extensive burns to his legs. A huge crowd waited for him outside and as he limped out they all cheered and gave him a hero’s welcome. The young fire fighter risked his life last month when he ran into a burning building to save two children aged three and five. Unfortunately, Jason Vlaho will no longer be able to work for the fire station as doctors ruled out any chance of his legs regaining their formal strength. An upbeat Jason told reporters that even thought he loved his work ‘saving those kids was more important. Besides that, thank God, I will be making my father happy as I now plan to take over the family business, Vlahos Blacksmiths.’ The mayor of Myrina, the capital of Lemnos, has officially invited the youth to the town hall where he will be receiving a medal of bravery in a ceremony dedicated to all local heroes.”

  “A crippled fireman who is a blacksmith! Well, I be damned if he’s not our target.”

  “Check this out too. Cheap morning flights and I found a good three star hotel near the harbour where all the fish taverns are.”

  “You and your love for food!” I joked.

  “I have already searched and found out that Lemnos is famous for its unique Kalathaki cheese and its natural creamy yogurt.”

  *****

  Chapter 31

  The plane landed on the flat plains that made up the outskirts of Myrina. We were surrounded by Athenians looking to get away from the suffocating heat waves that made Athens so unbearable during August. The exodus of millions of Athenians took place during the days before the holy day of August the 15th, the day of the assumption of the Virgin Mary, a holiday most Greeks spent in their grandparent’s villages or on an island.

  Once again, I exhaled heavily and closed my eyes, finding religion as I thanked God for another airplane journey that came swiftly to an end.

  “Still not used to planes by now?” Ioli complained.

  “Nope! And never want to get used to them. I had enough planes, the last month, to last me a lifetime.”

  The wind was menacing outside helping the island live up to its name. Lemnos, the wind-ridden island. The wind also helped to keep the temperature down. The 6 degrees Celsius -or 42 Fahrenheit if you prefer-difference with Athens in combination with the island’s thirty sandy beaches made it a desirable getaway destination amongst mainland Greeks.

  For a woman, Ioli travelled light and just like me she carried her luggage on board. This gave us an advantage against our co-travelers who soon would exit in the hundreds and fight for one of the only twenty available taxis. We exited the building first and took the first taxi in front of us to our hotel. Ioli had booked two adjacent rooms and as soon as she unpacked, she came banging on my door.

  “Come on, we haven’t got all day.”

  Myrina was more fascinating than what I expected. The quiet harbour, the stone-paved alleys, the stone-built houses of neoclassical design, the shops and the restaurants that maintained their traditional look and the friendly people all added to its magic.

  “Do you feel the town’s magnetism?” Ioli asked and sustained my belief that she could read my mind.

  I did not manage to reply as she had already stopped a teenager that was showing off with
his skateboard to a group of female peers.

  “Excuse me, can you show me where Vlahos Blacksmiths is?”

  “Sure. Down that alley there. All the way down and turn left. It will be on your right. Can’t miss it really.”

  “Thank you,” she said and winked at the boy as she shook his hand, leaving money scrabbled up in his palm.

  “Here’s five Euro for your help. Now, go buy that pretty girl in the blue dress an ice-cream.”

  His whole face brightened and his eyes opened wide.

  “Thanks lady!” he said in excitement and in a great hurry, he rolled through the square towards the ice-cream parlour.

  “Why didn’t you Google it?” I sarcastically asked what she always asked me.

  “I did. It wasn’t listed,” she replied to my disappointment on having no revenge.

  We walked through town and through time looking like another couple of tourists enjoying the sights. Everything was well preserved and if it wasn’t for all the electricity wires you could swear you were back in the fifties.

  I was happy just to be able to wear shorts and a T-shirt. Ioli looked casually wonderful with her pink flowery sun dress.

  We stood outside the blacksmith’s shop, window shopping in the eyes the rest of the world. We entered through the green wooden door and were greeted with a vast smile and a warm welcome.

  Jason Vlahos was a tall, built up, young man with handsome facial features and thick, rich black hair. A manly man as my mother would say. He put down his tools and asked if he could assist us.

  “Just looking around for souvenirs,” Ioli said smiling.

  “You have to see our metal olive tree set,” he said and limped with difficulty across the shop.

  “Nice shop you have here. Yours or do you just work here?”

  “Family business. I took over so my poor father could retire in peace.”

  “What time do you close?” Ioli asked.

  “Around seven.”

  “And what time do you open in the morning if you don’t mind me asking,” she continued.

  “Eight, well, eight-ish,” he admitted with a grin.

  “I really like these, but I can’t make up my mind. I’m thinking of coming round in the morning and shopping without my brother. Will you be open tomorrow or do you close for the holiday?”