‘Yes, I would. However, he never came here, did he?’
‘Maybe not. Can I ask for your cooperation with a list of the monks and their names? Their real names.’ Monks left behind their birth name and entered the monastery, reborn, with a new Christian name. No surnames were used.
‘Sorry, but no. We are not a part of your world, Captain, and we cherish our privacy. I have answered your questions and now I must be going. God’s work awaits. Brother Rafael will escort you out,’ he said and pointed to the monk standing behind the motionless Sergeant. Then, he turned and slowly strolled off through the lemon and orange trees.
‘I could easily come back with a court order,’ I shouted with slight anger mixed with several parts of annoyance.
‘Raise your words, Captain. Not your voice. It is rain that grows the flowers, not the thunder,’ he spoke up, but did not turn to face me. He continued his stroll, until he vanished into the citrus forest. I counted to ten, breathing through my nose, exhaling from the mouth. While my body temperature lowered down to normal, Brother Rafael had opened the gate and Galanos was already sitting in the car. I was sure this was the place. No way did Alex go to the other monasteries; though I did send cops to ask there, cops who later reported that no-one had recognized the man in question.
I marched past the monk and a murmur was heard. I had to quickly turn off every single one of my inner voices and focus to put the murmur into a sentence. The gate closed behind me. I stood there puzzled. What did the monk mean?
‘Not all can be grown here,’ Rafael had said.
With the blessings of the silence provided by Jason -I speak when spoken to-Galanos, the sentence kept on playing on repeat in my mind’s jukebox.
Not all can be grown here. Not ALL can be grown here. First, the monk spoke to me. Proof that something was going on there. Proof that Alex Panayiotou had been there. The monk was there during the whole conversation with the abbot. Second, they grew all kinds of fruit and vegetables. He could, also, be referring to their livestock. But, they ate fish and rice… they needed medication… hmm… electricity, phones…
‘Jason?’
‘Yes, Captain?’
‘Do monks ever come down to the village and buy groceries and stuff?’
‘No, sir. They never leave their monastery.’
‘How do you think they attain fish, rice and various stuff they may need?’
‘Oh, the supermarket’s owner’s son is an altar boy. He brings them everything they need. But they do live with as little as possible. It is a brave choice to lock yourself away from the world.’
‘Brave?’
‘Well, yeah. They give up so much and pray for the rest of the world. Don’t you agree, Captain?’
‘I don’t know, Jason. I prefer the Mother Teresa types. That live in the world and help out till they die. But hey, who am I to judge?’
He did not reply. He seemed to be processing my opinion, but made no remark.
‘Show me the way to the supermarket.’
‘It will be closed now. It’s half past six; it closes at six.’
‘Where does the family live? Don’t they live in the village?’
‘Yes.’
‘Let’s get going to their house then.’
We drove in silence, with the windows down. The cool, autumn breeze swirling around in the car. The air so much purer than back in foggy-land Athens. An orchestra of crickets, mosquitos and birds replaced the radio.
We entered Kaki Vigla village through the one artery that connected the double digit population with the rest of the island. As with all villages in Greece, the only place with any sort of movement was the local coffee shop, known as the kafeneio. Every kafeneio around Greece was the same. Housed in an outdated building, begging for a splash of paint, traditionally decorated, filled with wooden chairs and as you entered, you lowered the average age to 70. Galanos drove by slowly, scanning the senior men that stopped playing cards and tavli and turned to see the foreigners.
‘The supermarket owner is not here,’ he said and drove off to a small house at the end of the road. I smiled at the thought that he knew everybody on the island. Small communities would never work for me.
The last light of the day playfully bounced upon the house’s front garden. Fully-blossomed, red and white roses were a treat to the eyes, while the Greek variety of the jasmine plant was a treat to the nose.
No beware of the dog sign.
I opened the freshly painted gate and walked up to the front door. All windows were shut. No response to the ringing of the bell. I cautiously walked around the house. The sound of the old lady from next door made me jump out of my skin. And I have thick skin.
She had crept behind me and shrilled ‘Who are you? This is not your house. Go! Get away! I’m calling the police!’ she threatened and waved her walking stick at me.
‘I am the police, calm down and…’
‘Mrs Ioannou?’
She turned to face Sergeant Galanos, calling her by her name.
‘Jason? Little Jason. My Holy Mary, you have grown up well boy. How is your lovely mother?’
I stood aside, waiting patiently for the mindless chit-chat about various relatives to come to a halt. I had crossed my arms above my beer belly and opened my eyes wide, trying to catch the Sergeant’s attention. The old lady continued with her interrogation about aunts and neighbors and sighed out loud every time Jason informed her that someone had passed away.
‘May God bless their souls,’ she said once again and finally Galanos caught a glimpse of me. Embarrassed for leaving me waiting and for forgetting his mission, he turned a nice shade of red.
‘Mrs Ioannou. Where is the Leontiou family?’
‘They are away tonight. Had a christening on the mainland. Don’t know if they are staying for the night, but he did say that the shop will be open first thing in the morning.’
‘Do you know where the christening is?’ I asked.
‘No,’ she snapped; her sweet tone used with Jason faded away. ‘Just because I’m old, doesn’t mean I know all the village’s gossip!’
I threw my head back and laughed. ‘Of course not. Good night, Mrs Ioannou,’ I said and walked off to the car.
‘Good night to you. I’m not off to bed! Celebrity Games Night is on!’
She kissed Jason tenderly on his cheek and sent her regards to all his living relatives. At least I had a chance to see Jason smile.
‘May God be with you,’ she wished him and closed her net door behind her. Mindless commercials were still on. She had time to warm her herbal tea before the show began. She felt so relaxed, now her kids had all married and her husband was a permanent citizen of the graveyard, two fields down. Nowdays, she served her own wants.
We would have to wait until morning. Wait. One of my least favorite words in the English language. Now, I was the silent one.
‘She is a good old lady, Mrs Ioannou. She was my kindergarten teacher, my mother’s too!’
I nodded and assumed a facial expression of ‘really?’
‘I know many people can’t wait to leave their villages and their islands to live on the mainland, in one of the big cities, but I love that I lived my whole life here. I know everyone and everyone knows me. People here are closer to their roots, their land, their church, their traditions. And it is so close to Athens, that I even stayed at home, while enrolled in the Academy.’
I smiled and wished him a good night as I parked beside his 90’s black, Honda Civic that occupied the only parking slot belonging to the studio police station. I drove off in a hurry; twenty minutes left for the last ferry to Athens.
My heartbeat dropped as I drove onto the ferry with two whole minutes to spare. It was a sweet night. The fresh breeze mingled with the ocean’s unique smell, the cloudless sky with its myriads of twinkling spots of light and the calm sea reflecting the almost full moon, ordered me to not stay locked in my car. It took only twenty minutes to the mainland and it was worth every minute
spent on the ship’s upper deck. Loud ship horns interrupted the squawking of the seagulls. Piraeus port was welcoming passenger ships carrying exhausted and hungover folk from their island vacations. Monstrous cargo ships were embarking alongside the shiny yellow forklifts waiting to upload long, metallic containers; their bellies filled with goods ranging from cars to cans of baked beans. The city shined bright, making you forget how tedious the concrete city really looked. It out-shined the stars and polluted the environment, but it looked majestic and strangely peaceful. That is until, you drove into it and got stuck in traffic with the rest of the ants. This ant was hungry. This ant ordered from his local tavern, strapatsada for starters, lamb chops with lemon and oregano for the main course and baklava for dessert. Yes, this ant was hungry. The cook made strapatsada just how he liked it. Three eggs scrambled with olive oil, tomato puree and feta cheese.
I unlocked the screeching wooden door and entered my begging-for-a-clean, one bedroom apartment. I threw the bags of food onto my coffee table, fetched a knife, a fork and two ice cold Mythos beers from the kitchen, undressed down to my boxers, scratched my privates and fell back onto my black, leather sofa. Dexter was just starting on Star Channel. Perfect. By the end of the suspenseful episode, all food was consumed and my eyes were growing heavy. Nirvana. Morpheus took over. The last thought of the day slid through my conscious mind…
Not all can be grown here…
Chapter 9
He pushed open the heavy door. He felt even more excited than the time before, yet he did not show it. He was not alone this time. His Piggy did not lift up his head this time. For a moment he worried that it had died. Thankfully, his large belly gave away that he was breathing.
‘Take him up,’ he ordered. ‘Wash him down with the hose. Be extra careful with the wings. Tie him up to the cross and gather the brothers. I’ll be up shortly.’
He stood aside and started to pray. He watched as the four monks accompanying him carried out his orders. He fought back an evil smile. His Piggy found the strength to try to resist. He shook back and forth, but the strong hands holding him, remained around his arms. All he achieved was to dirty the cell’s floor with blood from his wounds and with his own filth that was stuck on him.
He watched them ascend the steps and waited until he was sure he was alone. He unlatched the bolt of the nearby cell. He stood in the doorway with the wall candle’s light behind him. He loved how his shadowy figure scared his prisoners. Especially the young ones. The little, blonde girl ran and curled up in the corner. Her eyes, sore from the lack of light, painting the fear across her pale face.
‘Do not cry, little girl. We are killing Piggy tonight. If you’re lucky we will be ready for you in a few days. Soon, you will go and meet all the other bastards this world has rightfully struck down!’
The little girl stood up and ran towards him begging him to let her go. She stretched out her little arms to hug his leg and implore him to show mercy. With a face of disgust, he lifted his right leg and kicked her hard in the chest, throwing her back against the cold, stone wall.
‘Do not touch me with your unholy, bastard hands!’
He stepped back and slammed the door shut. He paused and touched his heart. He was getting too old for this. He had much to do and he was not sure how much longer the Lord would keep him on this Earth. He hastened up the steps and dashed to his chambers. He ran through the open door and knelt before the Holy Book. He rose with difficulty and bowed to kiss the book’s animal-leather cover. He caught his breath and picked up the book, placing it with care between his body and his arm. He looked out of the oval window. Clean Piggy was tied up to his cross. Monks walked to and from him, gathering wood and placing it around him. Everything was set. He thanked God for His assistance and trudged down to the courtyard.
With the assistance of his brothers, he climbed the wooden ladder to the tiny balcony that jutted out of the wall, looking displaced. Similar to the many wildflowers that, against all odds, found a way to grow out of the stone wall.
He coughed to clear his throat, pulled out his small, reading glasses from his robe’s lonely pocket and placed the heavy book on the balcony’s thick, wooden railing. As he fixed his glasses upon his broad Greek nose, the last monk had gathered below and all stood in formation. No one spoke. The only thing interfering with the silence was the rubbing of ‘Piggy’s’ flesh against the chunky ropes that enclosed his arms and feet.
‘My dear brothers… In the name of the Father, the Son and The Holy Spirit, I welcome you here tonight, in yet another step to fulfil our earthly mission. I will now read from the Gospel of our Lord, Jesus Christ.’ In unison, all the monks knelt to the ground and lowered their heads.
‘Coming forth, is the Antichrist! He who will rule for a thousand years, if not stopped in my name. Killed he can be, yet a ghost he is. Give him flesh and mortal he becomes. The Beast calls upon his demons. He opens a seal and the seal says kill the unjust, the liars, the hypocrites. Send them to me! And the demons yelled with joy. He opens a second seal and the seal says kill the filthy, the greedy, the swines that enjoy devouring the earth. Send them to me! And the demons yelled with joy. He opens a third seal and the seal says kill the bastards, the ones born of incest, of lust. Send them to me! And the demons yelled with joy. Finally, he opens a fourth seal. Send me murderers. And the demons yelled with joy. These souls do not enter Heaven. They are owned by the Beast. When he has received, he will appear in the flesh…’ He stopped reading and all rose together. They turned and faced ‘Piggy’. Now, he could smile.
‘Let light shine out of darkness!’ he yelled, quoting from Corinthians.
Flames were born and wood started to crackle. The red river of fire swallowed up the olive logs and grew into flaming lashes. ‘Piggy’ was consumed in minutes. He contained his laughter and his desire to dance, as the sound of burning skin cracking and popping, reached his ears. The flames danced in his wide open eyes. What a glorious night.
Chapter 10
I awoke, startled by the excruciating rape of my ear. Dozens of too-happy-for-seven-in-the-morning people were screaming with joy, getting pumped up as they followed the enthusiastic fit gymnast of the Morning Show. I had forgotten that I had set my TV-alarm to go off.
Cold sweat covered my body. My last dream was Gaby’s murder. My baby girl gunned down in the street. I also dreamt of Alex Panayiotou being stabbed over and over again. The downside of possessing a visual-spatial type of brain.
I lifted myself from the sofa and looked into my bedroom. My soft bed all made up, staring at me with complaint.
‘I miss you too,’ I whispered in my rough, barbarian morning voice.
On my way to the bathroom, I pulled down my boxers and kicked them to the smelly pile of dirty linen. I leaned my hands against the wall, closed my eyes and listened to my waterfall make contact with the bog’s water. I hopped into the shower and let the man-made rain wash away all the dirt and all my thoughts. Nothing like a cold shower to get you going for the day.
I dried myself quickly and threw the wet towel onto the growing pile. I walked naked to my bedroom, opened my wardrobe and randomly picked out a pair of brown trousers, a white shirt and a brown suit jacket. I threw them on my bed and stared at myself for a moment in the full body mirror.
Am I letting myself go or is this what work and time does to you?
A running-out-my-wardrobe cockroach interrupted my thoughts. I swore for not wearing slippers and I swore again for cockroaches still being around this time of year. Who could blame them though? The rainy season seemed to be cancelled this year. It may still be warm enough for cockroaches, but thank God it wasn’t enough for mosquitos.
Damn you, Noah. Mosquitos? Cockroaches? Really?
Half an hour later, I was walking into HQ for the chief’s morning briefing, cockroach leftovers still stuck on my shoe. The chief enjoyed holding briefings first thing in the morning and watching everyone rush around trying to have a cup of coffee and get their
shit together. Mercy for the officer who was not ready to answer any of his questions about ongoing cases.
‘Good morning, Captain.’ Sergeant Demetriou stood opposite me with her fiery red hair wrapped up in a bun.
‘Good morning, Demetriou,’ I replied, feeling bad for not knowing her first name. P.Demetriou, her name tag revealed. At her height, she had a good view of my once white shirt, now bearing evidence of my breakfast. A faint stain of coffee and a drop of honey from my baklava decorated it, just under the wrinkly collar. She pulled out a wet wipe and the smell of freshly cut lemons filled the air between us. Without asking, she wiped the two stains.
‘It will dry in a minute. The chief is already behind the lectern.’
‘Thanks…’ I mumbled and rushed to catch the elevator’s Symplegades from closing.
I pushed open the double glassed door and made a beeline for the front. A bunch of uniforms filled up the room, in their early thirties, looking all serious and professional, hiding the fact that most of them were part hungover and part half-asleep. Yesterday, was Sergeant’s Andreas –A.K.A. Party Animal-Triantafyllou thirty-fourth birthday and most of the force, partied until the morning’s first rays dug through the scattered clouds and reminded them that the night never lasts forever.
P.Demetriou passed before me and handed the chief a pile of reports and a few files.
‘Thank you, Polina,’ his gruff voice was heard. Polina. That’s it.
Polina –previously known as P.Demetriou-sat down besides me.
‘You missed a hell of a party,’ she said, noticing me gazing at the stupid grins everybody was exchanging.
‘Work…’
She smiled. ‘All work and no play…’
‘Settle down. Let’s get things going. Mary?’ the chief’s deep voice echoed through the vast room.
Mary was already situated by the black, Toshiba laptop that was connected to the room’s projector. She flicked through images as the chief discussed the surge in car thefts. Captain Mike Michael stood up and gave the latest on his case. Then, closure on the murder of housewife Andrianna Katerchidou. Yes, the husband did it. The bank robbery was next, followed by the gang rape in Katexaki Park. The girl was only nineteen. What a great city.
Greek Island Mysteries Boxed Set (Books 1-2-3): Gripping, psychological mystery/thrillers destined to shock you! Page 27