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

by Luke Christodoulou

  “No, I will open. Can’t afford to be closed with all these tourists around. I will open right after church.”

  “See you in the morning, then.”

  “Brother, huh?” I said as the door closed behind us and we were back on the street.

  “Preferred husband?”

  “Bravo on getting his schedule. Now we need a place to spy on the place.”

  We were in luck as diagonally to the left was a colourful little cafe with a large front window.

  Now all we had to do and all we could do was wait.

  *****

  Chapter 32

  The 14th and the 15th passed rather uneventfully and it was my belief that Ioli started to have doubts if the killer would strike again. The news and the talk in town presented the case of Bill Aggelopoulos with every gory detail. Public opinion had already convicted him and his enemies enjoyed the steep fall of his stocks. Was I the only one who suspected otherwise? Too many ifs occupied my stream of thought.

  “Good morning!” the gregarious owner of the cafe greeted us. He must have thought that we really liked his cafe as this was the third day in a row that we had chosen his establishment. Something rare amongst holiday makers.

  We sat in silence, enjoying our Greek coffees and staring at the blacksmith’s opposite. Jason Vlahos was not the most punctual guy, but at least he made stalking him easy. Home-shop-home was his daily routine with a small stop yesterday at the Cathedral of the Holy Trinity.

  Ioli’s phone started to vibrate, and she smiled as she looked down to see the caller.

  “It’s Michael,” she said, got up and walked outside.

  I watched her as she walked up and down the street, smiling and laughing and remembered my own youthful days with Tracy.

  She fixed her hair as she walked into the cafe and caught her breath as she sat back down.

  “Well, you won’t believe this,” she said.

  “What won’t I believe?”

  “He’s here.”

  “The professor? He is here in Lemnos?”

  “Yes. He called me to see how things were going with our case in Athens. I said fine, you? Still in Crete? And he replies no, took the boat to Tinos for the assumption of Mary’s celebration and then the ferry to Myrina. He is somewhere called the Hill of Poliochne. He sounded excited. A site from the early bronze age. His kind of party, I guess.”

  “That is convenient.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Sure he is not following you? I mean, you don’t really know the guy…”

  “Excuse me, dad. How long do I have to know a guy to know he is not a stalker? Besides, how can he be following me? He thinks I am in Athens!”

  “Don’t get upset, I was just trying to…”

  “Never mind. Anyway, enjoy your coffee. I’ll call you later. I am going up to surprise him on those Poliochne hills.”

  “You did not tell him you are here?”

  “No,” she said and rushed off to find a taxi.

  The route to the ancient site was not the most scenic. Dried-up valleys on both sides for the entire twenty minute drive, with the only interruption being the small village of St Dimitrios.

  Ioli stepped out of the taxi and wondered what madness had come over her. She pulled out her phone and texted “Costa, sorry I left like that. I still believe the killer will strike. Let’s hope not today. See you tomorrow.”

  She felt better after pressing send and scanned the horizon. A group of Japanese tourists was living up to the cliché and were taking countless pictures of every rock and column. A few elderly European couples were strolling casually amongst the ruins and in the distance one tall, handsome, blond, blue-eyed forty-year old was standing still with his back to her.

  She crept up behind him and wondering what was so fascinating in the inscription he was preoccupied with reading.

  “Excuse me, sir, but I seem to be lost.”

  “Ioli? Ioli!” he screamed and swooped her off her feet. “How the hell? You own the police helicopter or what? How? I can’t believe you are here.”

  “Me neither,” she laughed and kissed him gently on his soft, warm lips.

  “Seriously, how?”

  “I was already here, silly. My partner, Costa, has family here and he invited me to visit the island before heading to Crete. The chief gave us a two week holiday for closing the Olympus Killer case.”

  “No more nasty business and beheadings? Perfect! And I have you all to myself?”

  “It seems so, Mr Johnson.”

  “Fancy going swimming and then to an idyllic fish restaurant that I found just outside of Myrina?”

  “Sounds perfect to me!”

  As Ioli enjoyed her day, I wandered up and down the street always keeping an eye on the blacksmith’s shop. He was having a slow day with few customers, mostly couples and old ladies, looking for souvenirs.

  I counted the benches, the street lights, the shops and the people passing by. Anything to keep my mind from going over the case for a millionth time.

  Jason Vlaho’s closing time found me with a pita gyro with extra pink onions and tzatziki in my hand, sitting on a bench just a few meters away from his shop. I followed him to his building and watched him enter. Soon the shutters of his second floor apartment were rolling up and lights were flicked on. Lonely life for such a young man.

  “The soul needs more time to heal than the body,” my grandmother always said and she was -on most occasions-right.

  I felt lonely too. And exhausted. My back and my knees were complaining for rest and I was angry at the fact that my Athenian couch potato life had taken its toll.

  Ioli on the other hand had company and she was terrified of what her next move would be. Michael had invited her up to his hotel room. Ioli had few rules in her life, yet important ones. One was that she was not what you would call an easy girl. Out of her friends she lost her virginity last at the age of twenty two after dating Panayioti for over a year. Two yearly relationships followed, with a year in between, and now she was in an elevator going up to Michael’s room after only a few dates.

  “Rules are meant to be broken,” she thought and felt guilty for trying to reason with her moral self. She was an adult, she felt that what she had with the professor could progress into love and she needed an escape from the murders.

  Half an hour later, naked between the white hotel sheets she started to regret sleeping with him. Not for moral reasons though but for the lack of imagination on the professor’s part. And to top that off, he fell asleep minutes if not seconds afterwards. The room was suffocating her and she did not feel like spending the night there. She slipped out of bed, quietly collected her clothes off the threadbare red carpet, got dressed and exited the room. She walked down the dark stairs and began to text Costa.

  “Where are you?”

  Seconds later the answer came.

  “Sunset Club. Vlaho’s cousin came round and forced him out of the house.”

  “See you in five.”

  I beamed as I read her text and ordered her a strawberry margarita and my second whiskey and coke. I was not on duty and thought “to hell with the no drinking on the job”. I sat there with one eye always on Jason and with the other enjoying the view from the beach bar. The palm tree lined road that ran parallel to the dark ocean, the clear sky with the bright moon journeying across it and of course the energetic, upbeat, well dressed, and young at heart locals and tourists that made up the crowd of the smoky club with the bright neon lights. Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves. Vacations can always be relied upon to have that effect on your mentality. Even the couple on a blind date next to me, engaged in drone-like first date chatter, seemed comfortable. Everyone but Jason. Jason Vlaho sat awkwardly in the corner of the bright green couch. His friends all spoke loud, sang and poured drinks in a futile attempt to liven him up.

  “Oh, margarita! Perfect! Strawberry or cherry?” Ioli asked and brought her glass to her lips without waiting for my answer
. “Strawberry,” she said quite tonelessly.

  “Prefer cherry?”

  “Most times, yes. But strawberry is fine. Nice club.”

  “I was thinking that too.”

  “So what have I missed?”

  “Not much. His friends are really doing their best to cheer him up. My money is on the waitress though,” I said and smiled as we watched her approach the five man group.

  The waitress, wearing a short black skirt and a deeply displayed cleavage, flirted with him every time she brought over more alcoholic beverages to the glass table. A few straight whiskeys later she even managed to earn herself a smile from the low spirited, crestfallen Vlaho.

  “It’s not every day you get a hero smiling at you,” she whispered in his ear, bit his earlobe and passed him her number.

  “I’m no hero. I was just doing my job.”

  “There are quite a few jobs that I would love to do with you,” she said in her intriguing, luring, husky voice. She then took him by the hand, winked to his cousin and dragged him round to the shadowy back of the bar.

  His friends all raised their glasses to each other and wished that their friend would be returned to them just as he was before the incident as they referred to the fire that burnt up their friend’s life loving spirit.

  Jason was pushed against the wall and he let the passionate redhead kiss him with force as her hands travelled down to his zipper. He closed his eyes and tried hard to act normal. His leg was killing him and he stood with difficulty as she knelt down. Her full, hot lips touch the head of his erect penis and sent shivers down his spine. His instincts took over and he placed his hands in her hair and guided her back and forth until he ejaculated deep down her throat.

  He zipped himself up and searched for the right words. Thankfully, words were not needed. The unknown girl blew him a kiss and walked off to the ladies room.

  I discreetly watched the skillful young lady please the troubled man from a distance and ran inside to inform Ioli that we were leaving. Jason had wondered off down the dark, rough beach.

  We followed his limping shadow up the narrow stone steps and onto the busy street, realising that he was heading home.

  We shadowed him down dark, dim, little stone, brick alleys and watched him startle scruffy stray cats that were feasting upon overflowing, smelling trash cans. Suddenly, he stopped and turned to see who was following him. Without a second’s pause, Ioli pushed me up against the dirty wall and acted kissing me on my unshaved neck. With one eye on each other and one eye on Jason we waited as he disappeared down the next alley. We held hands, maintaining the fable of being a couple returning from the bar and turned left behind him.

  A loud penetrating sound made us jump as a trash was knocked over and cats ran in every direction, hissing as they disappeared into the darkness of the surrounding brick walls.

  “Bloody cats, nearly gave me a heart attack,” I said to no response.

  Ioli had momentarily frozen.

  “Stop! Police!” she shouted and ran down the narrow alley.

  Jason was on the ground and above him stood a towering shadow. The starlight was shining upon his menacing hypodermic needle that crowned the blue liquid filled syringe.

  I took out my gun and ran besides Ioli.

  “Stay with Jason. You have no weapon,” I ordered her and sprinted after the fleeing murderer. I was right. “Who said that I have stopped?” Bill had said.

  “Stay where you are!” I yelled and fired a warning shot into the night sky.

  The Olympus Killer raced into the busy street, crashing into a red Fiat. I waved to the people inside of the car to remain still and walked slowly round the car, gun in hand.

  “Freeze, you piece of…” I began to yell, but he was gone.

  I looked hectically around and saw his figure running down a side street. I continued chasing him, ordering him to stop. He was quick and I was panicking at the thought of losing him. I heard him jump over a tall, wire fence and ran to follow him. As I approached the fence a black Doberman was barking at me from behind the fence, saliva running down his sharp, white, dog teeth. For a moment, I was tempted to shoot the poor animal, but my sense quickly took over and I ran around the fenced property. Breathless, I reached the other side and to my dismay realised that I had lost him.

  I ran up and down the street with my eyes travelling 360 degrees. I was alone.

  This was not the time to feel sorry for myself. I picked up my phone and dialled all the numbers I had prepared for such an occasion. I called the coastguard, I informed the local police, I called Athens and then Ioli who informed me that Jason was out cold and she had alerted the paramedics. I made it clear to everyone that I wanted the 477 square kilometer island on lock down. The coast guard was commanded to stop and search every ship. No flights were to leave the next day and no speed boats, jet skis or any other means of transportation by air or water would be up for hire.

  I was not going to lose him again.

  All hell broke loose. I never understood that phrase until this night. The chief called yelling down the phone, cursing me for leaving him in the cold. He did not sleep well that night if he slept at all. The sleepless night provided him with enough time to prepare his press release explaining that the police was looking into the possibility of a copycat or maybe even a second killer. In no way did he want a theory of Bill Aggelopoulo’s innocence going viral.

  Two Hellenic police helicopters circled the island while seven coast guard speed boats patrolled the winding coastline. On land, police officers were awoken and called to duty. Hotels and rooms for rents were searched and documents were checked.

  Ioli accompanied Jason to the local hospital and when he recovered, she explained to him what had happened. He had no recollection of the events leading up to his awakening in a hospital bed. I was working side by side with the local authorities, co-ordinating the mission. Minutes turned into hours and my anxiety grew turning me into a smoking, swearing, and unkind, rude monster. My Mr Hyde had been awoken.

  With the break of dawn the first positive news came in. The coast guard had found an abandoned ship in a small, isolated rocky bay; anchored behind steep rocks.

  The Christina. Bill Aggelopoulo’s Enavigo 38 racer yacht.

  An hour earlier, I was joined by Ioli, who also stayed up searching hotel receptions and guest lists. As the news of the boat came in, we both ran to the first police car and shouted at the driver to step on it. The first sun rays hit us in our eyes as we stood at the edge of the cliff looking down at the yacht. No one had responded to the coastguard’s calls of “come out with your hands above your head”.

  Specialist marines swam with caution in the deep waters and reached the silent boat. Soon all three of them were on the boat, ordering the killer to come out and surrender peacefully. Still, no response. The white, wooden door was kicked in and the marines went below to the yacht’s cabin. Minutes later all three reappeared in obvious disarray. One managed to give a thumps up and signalled that all important all clear. The yacht was hooked up to the coastguard’s main ship and tolled into Myrina’s serene graphic harbour.

  I stepped onto the boat first, followed by Ioli. The smell was near unbearable. A cloying and pungent stench like no other. We both placed on medical masks to cover our air portals and walked through the kicked-in door. Our eyes first fell onto the naked male body lying face down in the bath tub. A plastic trident, similar to the ones used during the carnival, was placed beside the decomposing body. The skin had taken an ill green colour and was blistered all over. Most parts of the hair had fallen off alongside with a dozen teeth and a few nails. The intestines were pushing to come out and maggots had made their appearance on the outside after their feast on the inside.

  “Poseidon,” Ioli managed to say as she lifted her photo camera and began flicking away.

  ‘‘Based on its overall appearance, I would say the body has to be at least three weeks old. Probably longer.”

  “It out dates Er
ic’s death,” she commented and swallowed deeply.

  “This kind of decomposition is over a month old,” I said changing my estimate as I leaned in closer to the body, searching the white porcelain bathtub for clues.

  “No stab wounds or any wounds of any sorts. Maybe drugged and drowned?”

  “He looks young,” she said.

  Ioli stood up and looked around the small room. No luxuries for such a rich man on his yacht. One room below with a small, wooden closet that housed the toilet, a bathtub, a worn in, ripped around the sides armchair, a microwave, a fridge, a 24inch TV and a large chest freezer that would otherwise have smelled of fish. This was his alone-boat. He had his 377 foot super yacht with twelve rooms, two swimming pools and thirty member staff for his luxurious travels. This was his fishing boat.

  Ioli walked over to the refrigerator and yanked open the lid. She gasped for air and took a step back. She turned away for a second in disgust before forcing her eyes to look back into the freezer.

  “This one is even younger!”

  I walked over to see another naked male body. His penis had been cut off and had been placed in the victim’s mouth. A broken wine bottle was beside the victim. He seemed to have been stabbed repeatedly with the glass bottle. The freezer was still running. Due to the low temperature, the body was in a far better condition than the bathtub’s body.

  “Read the name of the wine,” Ioli said.

  “Dionysus. The god of wine. We will need the coroner to establish exact times of death.”

  “Holy fuck!” she said as she leaned into the freezer and stared at the young man’s face. “I don’t believe it!”

  “What?” I asked.

  “You don’t read many gossip magazines do you? This was Greece’s soon to be most eligible bachelor. Turned eighteen a few months ago. Most magazines featured the party and were judgmental at the extravagant party that took place so soon after his mother’s death.”

  “Don’t tell me this is…”

  “Alexander Aggelopoulos. Bill’s one and only child and heir to the Aggelopoulos fortune.”