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

by Luke Christodoulou

  *****

  Chapter 33

  By midday, every muscle in my body cried for sleep. Ioli’s red shot eyes begged the same. We were at the local police station having a much-needed fifth Greek rich aroma coffee and being informed that they had come up with nothing. The majority of holiday makers were families and groups of friends. Most tourists had flown in from Athens and had not visited any other island. All tourists were not even in the country during the past murders. No local or tourist man fitted the description given and if not out at a bar, were fast asleep at the time of the attack on Jason Vlahos.

  The search would have to continue without us. We were waiting to be taken to the airport where we would escort the bodies to Athens. I was eager to interview Bill Aggelopoulos again and get answers from the coroner.

  “Your car is ready,” the husky local lieutenant with the wiry hair informed me.

  “The search is still on Andrea. Don’t disappoint me. Check everyone. No one leaves without being questioned, papers checked and items searched. The killer is still on the island.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  We walked outside and approached the parked vehicle. The young officer rushed to carry our bags for us.

  “Ioli?” Michael’s voice came from a distance.

  “You’re leaving?” he asked out of breath as he ran over.

  “Have to. We had…”

  “I know! I heard. The police came by the hotel asking all these questions about where were we, who are we with, how long have we been here…”

  “When did you leave the states, professor?” I asked.

  “Flew into Athens on the 27th and the next day I flew to Cyprus. What terrible business. Two more bodies? Baby, are you ok?” he stroked her arm.

  “I’m fine. It’s my job…”

  “So you are going to Athens now?” he interrupted her again.

  “Yes, I will call you when I can.”

  “I am leaving in a few days. I have to get back to work.” he said, lowering his voice and looked to the ground.

  That is when it hit her. It would not work out. She had fallen for the most unavailable guy. They both loved their jobs and she could not imagine either of them quitting.

  She smiled slightly lost for words.

  “Give me a reason to stay. I’m flying to Athens late tonight. I understand you are busy, but I would love to see you before flying back.”

  “And then?”

  “And then we will see. I could better my Greek and teach here. I could…”

  “Michael, this is not the time or the place. I really have to go. I’ll call you in the morning,” she said and turned away without a goodbye kiss.

  The professor stood there on the sidewalk and watched the car being driven away. For a man whose mind was always travelling in the past, he now found himself preoccupied with thinking of the future.

  *****

  Chapter 34

  The nightmare kept on playing over and over. A single bullet would fly through the air and across the road from the black Lincoln and I, like a second superman, stood in front of a frightened crying Gaby.

  “Save me daddy. Don’t let me die again!” she would beg, but the bullet would just travel through me every time and end up hitting her. The first bullet hit her hard in her chest.

  Then, like an old tape, the whole scene would rewind to five minutes previously and I would live the torment once again. This time the bullet hit her in the face and I watched motionless as half of her head broke off. Rewind. Again. Rewind again. A modern day Sisyphus.

  The ringing of the phone saved me from my own personal hell.

  “Hello?” I grunted.

  “Costa? You did say to call you as soon as I woke up,” Jacob Petsa started to excuse himself. I looked over at my cheap, living room clock. 06:25. The sun was just waking up as well.

  “Morning Jacob. Meet you at the morgue in twenty? You finished examining the bodies last night?”

  “Yes, didn’t get home till one o’clock last night. Still waiting on most lab results, but I can tell you everything you want to know before interviewing Bill.”

  “Thanks a lot mate. I owe you one.”

  “Didn’t you hear me right? One o’clock I got home and I was up at six. You owe me two. Pork chops and a beer would be nice.”

  “For sure,” I said and closed the phone. Footsteps behind me made me jump up from the couch.

  “Nice boxers,” Ioli joked as she walked out of my bedroom, fully dressed, black shiny hair brushed, high heels and make up on, and wandered into the kitchen.

  “Get dressed and come to breakfast,” she ordered.

  “In twenty at the morgue,” my words followed her into my -on the verge of derelict-kitchen.

  “I heard. I was awake. Been up since five… thinking.”

  “This case owes us sleep,” I said and walked into my bedroom to get ready.

  By the time I walked into the kitchen, ready to go, Ioli had not only brewed coffee, she had boiled a couple of eggs and prepared toast. She had even taken the liberty of cleaning the kitchen counter and wooden table while she was at it.

  “You’re one helluva Greek woman, Cara,” I laughed to cover my embarrassment of having her stay in a dirty men’s den.

  “So what was on your mind and you’ve been up since five?”

  “Coroner said anything specific?”

  “Only that lab results aren’t in but he could tell us everything that we need for the interrogation.”

  We bit into our honey-laden toast and sipped our coffees. A few eggs and another round of toast and we were ready to go.

  I loved Athens before eight o’clock in the morning. It was calmer, it felt normal, and it felt liveable. Soon the storm would hit and millions of ants would run around, creating traffic jams and Greek swearing conflicts around each set of traffic lights. Some loved the chaos and fell in love with the big city. Others accepted it as a necessary evil and reminisced living in the pacific periphery or even better careless on an island where they hoped to relive the halcyon days of their parents.

  We arrived at the morgue before Dr. Petsa who showed up ten minutes later. He had trudged down the stairs to find us outside his door.

  “Morning,” he exhaled.

  “There is an elevator, you know,” I said.

  “I steal moments of exercise. I haven’t got time for a gym or the will to stop eating. I was reading this article in this men’s magazine how to keep fit with a few changes in your life and using the stairs was in the top three,” he said and unlocked the door. “Come in, make yourselves at home,” he joked.

  “No, thank you!” Ioli said, looking at all the little silver lockers, each with its own unfortunate individual. An old lady who died quietly in her sleep. A twelve year old boy who was hit by a drunken driver as he rode his bike home. A middle-aged man who did not cope a third heart-attack. And of course, our two murdered bodies. Dr. Petsa rolled them both out and stood between them, facing us. The scars from the doctor’s incisions were pink in contrast to the pale bodies. All the blood inside had travelled south and the skin was rotting away.

  “Body number one. Identified as Alexander Aggelopoulos, aged 19. Stabbed to death with a broken wine bottle. It’s hard to determine how many times he was stabbed exactly as the stabbing was erratic and in multiple areas. He was stabbed in both his legs, the lower and upper abdomen, his back and in his right arm. Unfortunately, the cutting of his erect penis happened while he was still alive.”

  “Erect?” Ioli asked.

  “Yes. He was raped.”

  “Raped?” we both said.

  “Now this is something new for our killer,” I said.

  “Dionysus was the god of orgies to put it bluntly. And the phallus was a symbol used during his worshiping,” Ioli said.

  “That would explain the cutting of the penis which was stuffed down his throat. There are no marks of being tied up and as I don’t believe it was consensual intercourse and having in mind our k
iller’s M.O., I would say he was raped while drugged,” the doctor said and his voice gave away his lack of sleep.

  “DNA?” I eagerly asked.

  “Again, nothing. Gloves, condoms and wiped clean is how I imagine the killer’s way. Nothing to go on.”

  “Date of death?” Ioli asked.

  “Seven to eight weeks ago. Both the bodies.”

  “So they were killed together and from the bodies we know of, they were killed first. A few weeks before Eric Blair,” I thought out loud.

  “The second body?” Ioli asked, looking down at her watch. At nine we were interrogating Bill.

  “Body number two,” he said and pulled back further the white thin sheet. The sight of the rotting body was appalling. While the first body was placed in the freezer, the second was left in the water-filled bath tub.

  “The body has yet to be identified. I would place his age around twenty five. Thirty tops. Caucasian. Maybe Greek, could be Latino or anything Mediterranean I would say. Cause of death? He was drowned. Also, no defensive wounds or marks to imply force. As before, given our case, he was most likely drugged and placed in the tub. Slowly his lungs filled with water and he died of suffocation. We will know more when the labs come in.”

  “No water was found in the tub, but I guess this is a Greek summer right?” I asked.

  “Yes, the water would easily have evaporated during the last two months.”

  We thanked the doctor and we swiftly left the premises. We were up for the next round with Bill Aggelopoulos.

  “What kind of monster carries two bodies around with him for months? I mean, just the stench…”

  “Exactly, Cara. A monster. Seven bodies. Seven!” I said and started my car.

  “Do you think Bill killed his own son?” Ioli said and strapped down her seat belt.

  “As I see it, we have two scenarios. Either Bill is lying and has not killed anybody thus the killer in Lemnos is our real Olympus Killer and he is the one who killed all seven victims or there are two killers, Bill and the killer in Lemnos, and we have to determine who killed who.”

  “Let’s hope we get the truth out of Bill.”

  “Whether he wants to or not, today he is spilling the beans. No more monkey business. We have seven dead bodies on our hands, maybe more and we still have a killer on the loose.”

  Bill was moved again. This time he was taken to Korydallos prison where he was isolated in a cell away from the main prison population. Bill was not informed about our visit. For him it was just another day in detention awaiting trial.

  I drove up to the main prison gates and stopped in front of the armed guard.

  “Captain Papacosta and Lieutenant Cara,” I said and passed him our papers.

  “Good morning, sir. The warden is expecting you. Drive on up and turn left. Park in the visitor’s parking. Someone is there ready to escort you,” he commanded peremptorily in military fashion.

  I nodded a good day to you too and drove as commanded. I parked next to a black suited dumpy man with a stubby neck. He was leaning up against a Mercedes with government plates. The man with the dark shades on was smoking a cigar while listening to Beethoven playing from the car’s stereo. He dropped the cigar to the cement ground and did not bother stepping on it. He walked over as we stepped out of my car.

  “Captain Papacosta?” he asked in that manner you ask anything that you already know the answer to.

  “Yes?” I answered his question and added tones of who are you.

  “I am the warden. Spyros Costopoulos,” he extended his right hand, covered in a black, leather glove. He smiled at my face that revealed so clearly that I was surprised by the welcoming committee.

  “Did not expect the warden to be out here?” he said and shook Ioli’s hand.

  “You’re more beautiful than your file photos, Miss Cara.”

  “Been reading up on us?” she replied to his somewhat inappropriate statement.

  “I always know who comes and goes in my prison.”

  “I must say, no, I was not expecting you,” I said.

  “I like the parking lot. It is probably the only area on the premises with fresh air. Well before my cigar that is. Good place to think too. Prisons are always so dank and depressing. But that is enough rambling on my behalf. Now you talk. Follow me and tell me about Bill Aggelopoulos. And not gossip that I already know from the media; what I need to know. I like to know my guests.”

  “To be honest sir, I’d rather not discuss the case. It is still open and Bill has not been sentenced yet…”

  “You believe him innocent?” he asked and stopped walking for a split second before continuing on a slightly faster pace.

  “I said no such thing. Maybe we should discuss things after the interrogation.”

  “Hmm…” he grunted, not satisfied with my answer. Surely a man used to getting his own way. In one perspective, prison wardens are truly kings of their castles. Especially ones with political ties, which was the rule and not the exception here in Greece.

  “How is the old chief?” he changed the subject.

  “Fine. As fierce as ever.”

  “Give him my regards and remind him that the mayor and I will be expecting him for golf on Sunday.”

  “I will remind him,” I answered, thinking what a boring sport golf was. In my youthful days, basketball was all I played.

  “Do you play golf, Captain?” he then asked.

  “Oh, no. I horse ride on Sundays at the country club,” I replied to earn Ioli’s trademark smile of satisfaction.

  “Second door on your left. Order coffee to the guard. Aggelopoulos will be with you shortly,” he said annoyed, and wandered off barking orders down the cold, unfriendly corridors.

  “Horse riding?” Ioli laughed as we sat down while I ordered coffees.

  The coffees came before Bill and that was the only positive thing about the day. Well, that and the revelation of the truth. The door opened and Aggelopoulos was led into the small room.

  “Not you two again!”

  “Sit down, Bill. This time I’ll do all the talking.”

  “Yes, sir,” he sarcastically remarked and sat down looking bored.

  “The camera is rolling, you know your rights, now listen carefully. I know you are not the Olympus Killer,” I said with certainty.

  “Oh, not all this again. I have admitted…”

  “And I know this because yesterday we caught the Olympus Killer in Lemnos.”

  Now I had his full attention. He sat up straight and placed his palms on the cool table surface.

  “Who did you catch exactly?”

  “The Olympus Killer. He attacked a local blacksmith. Hephaestus, I would presume. We haven’t identified him yet. He is not talking… yet.”

  He lifted his palms from the table, leaving sweaty imprints behind and looked me straight in the eye trying to figure out if I was lying or not. I gave him no such time.

  “Found your boat, too. You know the one you said exists no more?”

  “My boat? Really? You found my boat?” he said, his voice a mixture of joy and sadness. He was trying to keep his cool and failing. As I remained motionless, he turned to Ioli and begged.

  “Please, please tell me the truth. Did you find my boat? Tell me!”

  “Yes,” she replied. “We found your boat. We found your son too.”

  He closed his eyes and tears fell down his cheeks.

  “Alexander. My boy. Thank God. Is he ok?”

  Now, we were taken aback.

  “Excuse me?” I replied baffled.

  “Alexander, where is he?”

  “Mr Aggelopoule, your son has been dead for over two months now. Butchered and raped by the Olympus Killer who you claim to be!” Ioli said with subtle rage underlying every other word.

  Shock hit him hard and he let out a high pitched cry.

  “Nooo! I don’t believe you. How many lies? I demand to see my son,” he shouted and waved his arms in the air. He was only chained a
t the ankles.

  “We can arrange a visit to the morgue even though your house maid, Miss Maria Evripidou, has already identified the body. It is your son. However, you might help identify the other body found on your boat. A tall, dark haired, handsome man under thirty?”

  “This can’t be happening. I did everything right,” he sobbed and lowered his arms upon the table. We left him in peace to cry. It was obvious he had no idea his son was dead. All we could do was wait for him to find the strength to tell us his story. Moments later, he punched the table with his right fist and lifted himself up slowly.

  “Is the tape still rolling?”

  “Yes” Ioli answered.

  “Please do not interrupt me with questions. I have no will to answer them. I want to tell my story to help bring justice to the victims and their families. Then I wish to return to my cell and mourn my son.”

  “Agreed,” I said.

  He raised his voice and started to unravel the true events surrounding him, his son and the Olympus Killer.

  “My name is Bill Aggelopoulos. I am not the Olympus killer. I have never killed anyone in my life. Two months ago, my son, Alexander Aggelopoulos and his lover, Giuseppe Acqua asked for my boat. They planned to spend the summer together sailing around the Greek islands. Alexander wanted to show his boyfriend the beauties of Greece before moving to Italy to study philosophy. Four days after they had set sail, I received a DVD in the post. FOR BILL-SEE IT ALONE it had written on it with capital letters. I could not believe my eyes when I pressed play. It was videotaped on my boat. Alexander and Giuseppe were both tied up naked on the floor while above them stood a tall man, dressed in black and wearing a rubber carnival mask over his head. He took out a knife and held it to Alexander’s neck. He told me that if I did everything he asked for, he would not hurt them and that end of August I would have my boy back safe and sound. Since then, I received e-mails instructing me what to do. The last e-mail instructed me to give myself up as The Olympus Killer and not to tell the truth till Alexander was released. And the whole time my boy was dead!”

  “I am sorry for your loss…” I started to say. It is never easy neither just painful when you lose your child, your only child.