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

by Luke Christodoulou

  His yelling made heads turn and guns were pulled out.

  ‘Jason, please. Lower your gun….’

  ‘Shut it! You know nothing! We could have defeated the Antichrist. Oh, don’t you all look at me like I am crazy. It is all in the book of our Savior! You will see, when you read it! With their deaths, they would have completed the four seals! The girl should have died!’

  ‘She didn’t like the horrid soup she was served, you fucking freak,’ Sergeant Mikropoulos spat out with disgust. The girl had taken one sip and left the rest of the soup untouched. The monks had failed.

  Jason looked around him. The hate on the faces staring back at him. Guns ready to send him to meet his maker.

  ‘When you are ready, my child, come and find,’ he quoted from the so-called Gospel of Christ and put his gun in his mouth.

  ‘Nooo,’ I yelled, but my voice was drowned out by the gunshot that put a hole through Jason’s skull, sending parts of his brain into the air and coloring the lemon tree behind him with stains of fresh blood. His body fell to the dirt, bringing the total body count to thirty-five. Thirty-three monks, a lawyer and a poor boy that had his head screwed up and turned into scrabbled eggs.

  It took all night to tag and bag the bodies. We needed two morgues to store them all.

  The first ray of sun travelled through the darkness and put an end to the nightmare of a night. It found me, up high on the ferry, wiping away a lonely tear. The morning breeze not strong enough to take away the smell of death that covered the boat. We all helped the paramedics load the bodies into the ambulances lined up along the pier. All major news outlets were set up, held back by a thin, yellow tape dancing in the wind. Serious looking, smart talking, well dressed people stood in front of cameras and described the scene. Shots of flashing cameras echoed across the port and newspaper reporters shouted questions to anyone in uniform.

  In a zombie like state, we all got into our patrol cars, drove back to Headquarters, took a shower -some two-and headed to the canteen for breakfast. No one spoke a word. We ate in silence. No one left until I dragged myself up and pushed open the glass door.

  On my desk, just as I had requested, the files of the monks’ history. Birth certificates, medical reports, past convictions, everything. All the puzzle pieces quickly fell together. The abbot, known outside of the monastery’s walls as Giannis Keraunos, had mental issues and suffered from violent outbursts since primary school. A great leader, indeed.

  Five monks were left-handed.

  They all stabbed Alex once, making them all murderers.

  Jason’s file was there too. Straight A student, role model in his society; I pushed all the files onto the floor. My computer took a flight out of the open window and met the parking lot below.

  Chapter 13

  Dr. Ariadne Metaxa’s office

  ‘And that is how I ended up being forced to talk to you!’

  ‘So, according to their holy book, if the girl died, the Antichrist would arrive? I’m confused. Is that something they wanted?’

  ‘After explaining the four seals, the book went to reveal specific ways to kill the Antichrist. Anyway, it was all just a bunch of bull. The book has been dated to 1200 A.D. Even if it was copied from an earlier book, experts have singled out words in the text not used during Jesus’ lifetime. The monks were misled by a psycho who enjoyed killing.’

  Dr. Ariadne scribbled down a few lines in her purple notebook and looked up at me.

  ‘So the denouement of the case came at a terrible cost.’

  ‘The what?’

  ‘The resolution of the mystery.’

  ‘Are we back to talking about closure? Yes, I have accepted my faults, Jason’s death and I have moved on.’

  ‘You sure about that, Captain?’

  I smiled. ‘As sure as I am about most things.’

  More scribbling in her notebook.

  ‘Don’t forget your water,’ she reminded me for the third time with her mellifluous voice. She had one rule. While in session, her patients had to drink a minimal of four full glasses of room temperature water. Apparently, it helped the mind. My mind yearned for beer during hot days and whiskey during the cold ones. The ice in my whiskey was made of water, but I doubt Dr Ariadne would approve of my habits. I drank my water and gazed out of the glass wall. The port was in full swing. It was a funny sensation to see all the commotion, yet not hear a single sound.

  ‘22nd of December today,’ she said and, as always, I could sense her eyes reading me.

  ‘Yes, a Monday,’ I commented, avoiding the question behind her statement.

  She smiled that unique smile only seen by mothers when they hear something clever from their smart-ass offspring.

  ‘How are you spending Christmas, Captain?’

  Flashes from last year’s pitiful Christmas spawned and played like a trailer in my inner home theatre. Me and a bunch of divorced guys from work at Archontiko Bar, eating pub food and drinking cheap beer.

  ‘Home, alone. Not really one for festivities.’

  ‘It is a good time to unwind and replace horrid images with other ones, more pleasant.’

  ‘If I manage to wake up early, I might go to church. Sit there for a while, then grab a meal and head home.’

  ‘Do you find going to church helpful?’

  ‘I think I go out of habit. My mother, like most Greek mothers, woke us up every Sunday and took us. Now, I do my best to make it, on the important dates. You?’

  It was the first time I had asked her a personal question.

  ‘Oh, I’m an Atheist. No higher powers out there for me. But, professionally speaking, I must admit that in the right cases, church going has helped with patients of mine. I love cooking for everyone on Christmas. A few family members and a couple of close friends…’

  ‘How very Hannibal Lecter of you!’ I joked and managed to hear the doctor’s unique laughter. A very restrained laughter, but still laughter.

  ‘You should join us…’ Her eyes were reading me again.

  ‘Do you invite all your patients to parties?’

  ‘No, just the special ones.’

  ‘I’ll think about it. Thank you.’

  Thunder swallowed my last words and lightning drew our attention to the outside world. Soon, fat rain drops were falling in their thousands. We sat in silence, admiring nature. She enjoyed the rain as much as I did.

  Chapter 14

  The phone would not stop ringing.

  It felt like hours had passed as my arm searched for my bedside table. My cell phone the only light in my dark bedroom.

  ‘Hello?’ More of a grunt than a word.

  ‘Good morning, Captain and a happy fucking new year to us both!’

  ‘Ioli?’ I sat up. Her laughter echoed in my ears as I rubbed my deprived of sleep, black bagged, eyes.

  ‘It’s eleven o’clock. Thought you were an early bird.’

  ‘Not when I get home at five in the morning!’

  ‘Well, well, well… Look who’s living the wild life in the big city!’ Her annoying nudge found its way to my shoulder-even over the phone.

  ‘Shut up! I was down at the bar with the rest of the nowhere-better-to-go rejects from the station, just like I did on Christmas. You?’

  ‘Enjoyed time with my family and friends. I’m coming tomorrow… to Athens, for good,’ she stressed each word, still trying to persuade herself that it was happening for real. After the Olympus Killer, she was promoted to Lieutenant A’ and officially my partner; our team in charge of homicide investigation over the Greek islands.

  ‘You ready?’

  ‘As I’ll ever be! Everything has already been shipped to my new apartment in Athens, my suitcase is packed and my mother is preparing me with enough meals to last me well into the next ice-age.’

  ‘So, I guess I’ll be seeing you tomorrow then!’

  ‘Yes, sir. Ready for duty,’ she said and the phone went silent.

  I sat up, feeling like some damn woodpeckers h
ad just moved into my frontal lobe.

  In Chania, Crete, Ioli was not feeling much better. She stood alone in her now empty apartment, her thoughts bringing tears to her eyes.

  Ioli never cared much about housework. She never understood the joy her mother and aunts talked about when they had finished all their chores. Their pride of a spotless house after a full day of cleaning and tidying up.

  Her apartment was not dirty, yet she never dedicated much effort to keeping it tidy. She saw it as a place to shower, sleep and get dressed before going back to work. Now, empty before her eyes, she realized she would miss her one-bedroom home.

  A new chapter awaited her. Her gunshot wound had healed and mentally she felt ready to catch some bad guys. She lived for the investigation process. She was born for it. The youngest Lieutenant at 32 and now at 35 Lieutenant A’.

  ‘Goodbye home,’ she whispered and locked the door behind her.

  Chapter 15

  CASE No.2: The Red Horse – Ending peace, people killing one another…

  Kate –Katerina-Spanou awoke in her four bedroom, blue and white country house on a fine, winter morning. Santorini may be one of the top destinations in the summer, but Kate loved it during the winter. The peace in the air, the majestic sunsets over the ocean, the stressed locals relaxing after a long and exhausting summer season working in hotels, bars, restaurants, water sports, souvenir shops and other services provided for the tourists that flocked to the island during hot months.

  She woke alone. Her husband Mario had been gone for hours. She never understood why fishing had to start so early.

  Saturday mornings were always so peaceful. Her two daughters stayed with her mother on Fridays and they all met up Sunday morning at church, after which the girls returned home.

  She sat down at her round wooden table and bit down on her honey covered toast. Nothing signalled that, today, she planned to kill her husband. Today was an ideal day to kill him, with the kids gone and Mario out fishing. Even the chicken had defrosted to its core, ready for their midday romantic meal. She cleaned the house through and through, chopped up the potatoes and the home grown carrots, had a nice, hot shower and wore that dress he liked. She poured herself a glass of chilled white wine and threw the vegetables around the chicken that sat alone in the Pyrex. Half a liter of olive oil and a handful of salt later and Mario’s final meal was ready for the oven. She sat back, drank her glass down in one long gulp and waited.

  One o’clock and the front door finally opened. Mario came smiling in, five or six fish tangling dead from his hand. His smile widened at the sight of the black dress that revealed her bare left shoulder. The smell of roast chicken filled the narrow hallway. He towered his petite wife and bend down to kiss her with passion on her thin lips.

  ‘Mmm, something smells nice.’

  ‘And you stink of fish,’ she joked and pulled back playfully.

  ‘Give me ten minutes,’ he said, kissed her again with force and ran up the stairs.

  Kate knew she was not a pretty girl. Short, always a few kilos heavier than she would have preferred, pale skin, hook-like nose and boring eyes. She knew people thought her lucky to have a man like Mario. Tall, athletic, handsome, dark, seductive eyes and a magazine smile. She felt insecure at first, but after the perfect wedding day and two beautiful daughters, she was living the family dream.

  ‘But, men will be men… and men are pigs!’ she whispered to herself as she served their portions.

  Mario gobbled down her delicious offering and then asked for dessert in a playful tone. She giggled and ran up the steps, jumping on their king sized bed. He chased her; his clothes falling to the floor one by one. He was completely naked by the time he reached their door. He stood there, breathing heavily, like an animal ready to attack and devour her. She pulled up her dress, to reveal that no underwear graced her body. Soon, he was on top of her, kissing her violently along her neck. She moaned into his ear and he entered her with that joy that men feel as their favorite toy finds refuge in a warm, wet vagina. He pulled up her dress, over her head and down to the floor. His tongue journeyed down and reached her breasts.

  He bit her nipples. He knew all her buttons.

  ‘Did Stella and Maria love having their nipples bit?’

  His body froze, his erection started going soft, his eyes painted with terror.

  ‘Baby, I… What rumors have you been…’

  ‘Oh, don’t baby me,’ she said with disgust and pushed him off her.

  He stood up and started to mumble words of apology that fell dead upon reaching Kate’s ears. She looked at the clock.

  ‘Shut up! Fuck your lies. And please, get off my Persian carpet. Go die in the hallway!’

  ‘Baby, they meant nothing, you are the one… Wait, what? Die?’

  ‘Poison should kick in by now.’

  ‘You bitch, you would poison your own husband? The father of your children?’ The last word came with a cough. He felt his heart being stepped on by a stampeding elephant. An inner force pushed him to his knees. He fell like a tree in free fall to the cold ground.

  ‘Help…me…’ the words were squeezed out from insides switching off.

  ‘Your funeral will be great, I will even invite your girlfriends. Help enough?’

  Chapter 16

  Three days later, Kate kept her promise. The funeral took place in Mario’s village, Megalochori (Big Village). Everyone came to say goodbye to the forty year old that had died so young from a heart attack. Not many were surprised. Mario always had a weak pumper in his chest. The doctor had arrived at his house to find a crying, distraught Kate explaining how he felt chest pains during their intimate moments and in a matter of seconds had collapsed to the floor. He declared Mario dead, called Kate’s mother to come comfort her and arranged the body’s transfer to the morgue. No foul play, no police.

  Agioi Anargyroi church in the center of the picturesque village soon filled up with tragic, black dressed figures. His devastated mother, his grieving sister, his wife with two young girls in her arms, his friends and of course Stella and Maria, who both did an excellent job at hiding their sorrow. Both were married, yet the loss of a lover is painful. Their exciting dalliance had come to an abrupt end.

  After the ceremony, they all followed his coffin to his final resting ground. Through the narrow streets, past neoclassical houses, under the famous bell tower with the six bells forming a pyramid, along the side of grape-less vineyards and into the cemetery. A freshly dug grave waited for them, amongst white and grey marbled headstones. The wind blew strong and cold; the sunlight scarce. Even the January sky had dressed in black.

  ‘The view is to die for,’ Katie joked to Mario, last time they were there, at an uncle’s burial.

  Just like in her hometown, the capital Thira, the cemetery clung to the top of the 400 meter cliff, looking down the caldera and into the blue waters that caressed the volcanic islands sleeping in the vast ocean.

  Kate held her girls every second of the ordeal, only letting go when she approached the deep hole in the ground, looked down at Mario’s coffin and as tradition ordered, she threw a handful of soil on top. As she walked away, men from the church and of the family picked up old shovels and proceeded to cover the hole.

  Flowers were laid on top by the women and everyone walked back to his mother’s house for coffee, biscuits and stories about the goodness in Mario’s weak heart.

  The next morning, Kate woke up once again in an empty house. The girls had stayed with her mother. Everyone agreed that she needed rest.

  She had cried herself to sleep the night before. She did not regret her actions, but felt sorrow for her girls. Movie reels from happier days played through her mind, keeping her company until she finally managed to close her eyes and drift off to sleep.

  Thoughts that woke up with her. Thoughts erased with a good, strong, Greek coffee and two slices of homemade bread with honey. Thunder also helped clear her mind. She got up, walked over to the kitchen window an
d opened it slowly. Drops of light rain flew in, but she did not mind. The smell of fresh air, fused with hints of sea water perfume, filled the spacious kitchen and entered her lungs. A little smile was born across her face.

  ‘Life goes on…’ she said out loud, the sentence coming at the end of an inner pep talk. It did, but not for Kate. The bullet flew through the rain and struck her in the face, just below her right eye. She was dead before she hit the icy floor. Her mother found her, the following morning, lying in a pool of blood. Her favorite cat sat beside her, enjoying a drink at the bloody pond, until he ran out the open window, chased out by the old lady’s high pitched screaming.

  Chapter 17

  Ioli Cara’s arrival at HeadQuarters easily became the hot gossip of the first week of the year. A tall, athletic, young, single Cretan woman with long, black hair, dark, seductive eyes, sun kissed skin and an amazing field record fed hope to single and divorced cops in their thirties and minor envy to women who took time to accept foreign bees into the hive.

  Ioli’s outspoken character mixed with her love for food and a good time helped her adapt in an otherwise competitive playing field. I watched her as she walked confidently towards my desk, coffees in hand.

  ‘Good morning, Captain,’ she smiled, passing me my coffee and parking her jean wearing behind on the edge of my desk.

  It is hard to explain the bond between partners who live through danger together. I had saved her life from the hands of the Olympus Killer and she saved mine from boredom, depression and decay.

  ‘Any murders today?’

  I nearly spilt my coffee at the question. She flashed her trademark Julia Robert’s smile and rushed to say ‘You know what I mean. I don’t wish people to die, but I have been here two weeks now and all I have been doing…’

  ‘Is doing my paperwork,’ I said, and passed her a couple of handwritten reports for her to type into the system.

  She grabbed them, got up, looked at my office phone and ordered it to ring. Silence. Mumbling, she made her way to her desk. The neatest desk on the floor. She had even blu-tacked her keyboard and her pencil holder down.