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

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Greek Island Mysteries Boxed Set (Books 1-2-3): Gripping, psychological mystery/thrillers destined to shock you! Page 35

by Luke Christodoulou


  ‘Don’t beat yourself…’ I started to say, but Ioli had no time for a comfort talk.

  ‘Can you describe the two men, Mr. Christo?’ she asked.

  ‘Well… Not really. I was quite far out. Two shadowy figures attacking another. All I can say is that one was much larger than the other. Both in height and in weight.’

  ‘Color of clothes? Type of clothes?’

  ‘All looked dark as the sun dipped in the ocean. Probably wearing jeans or trousers.’ His smoke came my way. I was getting annoyed with my smoking addiction for fooling me. I thought I had beaten it. Now, I was craving a cigarette so badly. I felt like a chocoholic tied to a chair watching as everyone walked past him, Nutella jar in hand. I tilted my chair backwards and took a deep breath of clean air. The fresh air from the lemon trees around us gave me a sense of healthy living and kicked my craving to the kerb. Now, if only it would stay there.

  ‘If you remember anything, call me at once,’ Ioli said politely, passed him her card and got up. By the time I had shaken his hand, she was already behind the steering wheel, eager to get back to the scene. She had the itch. All investigators get it. You get too close to your case and you cannot relax until your case is closed. Even then it is hard letting go.

  Chapter 30

  A good detective is nothing without a good lab team; truth must be said. Before the advance of technology, many cases were left unsolved or worse, the wrong person took the heat. Great investigators lived back then, but sometimes, brains weren’t enough.

  The next day, Ioli and I stood above a table of evidence and a bunch of new results from Athens’ lab. We pretty much knew the story. Now we had the backing of DNA and fingerprints. A wife drugged her cheating husband, a carpenter shot her and hung the mistress, a necrophiliac murdered the carpenter and two attackers brutally killed the necrophiliac.

  ‘Someone is orchestrating this…’ I whispered, leaning over the gruesome pictures. Each murderer getting murdered by the next.

  ‘An evil mastermind? How…’ Ioli started to ask before shouting out ‘Bingo!’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Well, why didn’t I open you first?’ she asked, holding a brown envelope sent from our labs. ‘The hairs collected from the necrophiliac were identified. He’s in the system. Andrew Kontos. Age 17. He got into a serious bar fight last year and was arrested.’

  ‘Let’s go pay Andrew a visit, then.’

  ‘You don’t sound pleased.’

  ‘Well, it’s not evidence that will hold up in court. He could say, he was in the cave with a girl or with mates the previous day. We need to get hard evidence…’

  ‘Or a confession! Come on, let’s go and get this kid’s story.’

  The weather continued behaving like my ex during her pregnancy. One day all bright, the next dark and gloomy. The sun had taken the day off. The sky was painted charcoal black all over. The clouds had united into one big menacing carpet and began pouring it down.

  The Kontou house rose in front of us, at the end of a z-shaped country road, just on the outskirts of the capital. Farms of decades past, gave way to two-storey homes built by developers to house the younger generation of home buyers. Couples looking for a nest for their love to bloom and to bring offspring into the world. Couples like Maria and George Kontou. Now, in their early forties and parents of two boys and two girls. The oldest being Andrew, our newly found suspect.

  I parked outside the Kontou family home and dreaded the long run up to the door.

  ‘Want the blue or the black umbrella?’ Ioli asked, leaning to the back seats where she had placed the borrowed items from the police station.

  ‘You are a star,’ I said, using my grandma’s line. Ioli gently punched me on my shoulder.

  ‘And don’t you ever forget it. I’ll take the blue one. Meet you at the door.’ She leaped out the car, slamming the door behind her. The howling wind pulled her a few steps forward as she opened her umbrella. She cursed the rain and then stepping into a muddy puddle she cursed again. I had more success, my weight able to defy Borea’s gusty, blustery attacks.

  We stood under the protection provided by the front porch pergola. The loud TV and childrens’ laughter filled the house. After catching her breath, Ioli rang the doorbell.

  ‘Turn that TV down, you two,’ a woman’s voice commanded. Her voice brought on no change to the ongoing noise pollution. ‘Barbie in Fairytopia’ kept on booming. The brown wooden door opened to reveal a forty year old housewife. She looked like she had been yanked out of a fifties washing powder commercial; with her curly hair tied up with an orange bandana, her nails painted red, her white apron tied around her waist and flat shoes covering her feet. She held a duster and wore a wide, bright smile. Until she saw us. Taken aback, her smile faded and her lips fell flat. Saturday morning as it was, she expected it to be a neighbor, ready for a hot Greek coffee and even hotter and steamier gossip.

  ‘What is it with Jehovah Witnesses and Saturday mornings? Can’t you see the sticker?’

  The oval sticker warned: ORTHODOX CHRISTIANS LIVE HERE. NO VISITS BY JEHOVAH WITNESSERS OR MEMBERS OF OTHER HERESIES. More instructions followed on the next sticker. ΝΟ DOOR TO DOOR SALES.

  ‘Not here to preach or sell,’ Ioli replied dryly.

  ‘Hellenic Police, ma’am. I am Captain Costa Papacosta and this is Lieutenant Ioli Cara. Is your son Andrew home?’

  Her eyes widened and flashed in the same way a lioness’ would if you went near her cubs. ‘What do you want with my boy?’

  ‘We are here to question him about his whereabouts yesterday. Is he home? Can we come in and talk?’ I asked.

  ‘Come in,’ she said reluctantly. We followed her into the living room, where two girls were dancing away. They both froze at the sight of strangers. Maria Kontou switched the TV off and ordered them to their room.

  ‘And tell Andrew to get his ass down here! Now!’ Normally the girls would have giggled at the sound of the word ass, but something in their mother’s tone warned them that this was not a laughing matter. Maria opened a large side window overlooking the back yard and called out to her husband to bring the same body part as of her son into the house too. George Kontou spent his morning in the shed, tidying up his tools at his wife’s command. Maria’s strong voice had no trouble traveling through the rain, defying the downpour and the thunder and reaching her husband’s ears. In a matter of minutes, introductions were made, lemonade and coffee were offered and a guilty-looking teen sat between his parents on the well-worn family sofa. We sat on two high back armchairs opposite them.

  Andrew was a very tall, thin, light brown haired kid. He stood out between his much shorter parents. His two large turquoise eyes shined like gem stones amongst his acne-ridden face. He placed his hands on his lap and could not stop scratching his knuckles. He took one look at us and for the rest of the time, kept his eyes focused on the floor. If guilty needed a picture for the dictionary, Andrew would be it.

  ‘Andrew, you have nothing to fear,’ Ioli tried to calm the youth down with a friendly smile. ‘We only want to know your whereabouts yesterday evening.’

  ‘What do you think he has done?’ his father asked, but Ioli paid no attention to him. She tilted her head and tried to make eye contact with the boy.

  ‘Hanging around with friends.’ His voice fought to come out and we strained our ears to hear him better.

  ‘Where?’ I asked, while his father angrily told him to speak up.

  ‘At the park. The one behind the old supermarket…’

  ‘And where else?’

  ‘No where really, miss. Stayed there for hours, we did. Then drove around town. I was home by eleven. My mama saw me come in…’ Maria nodded in agreement and stroked her boy’s back.

  ‘Why are you so anxious, Andrew?’ I asked.

  ‘I don’t know what you want.’

  ‘What do you think this is about?’

  He looked at his father and bowed his head, even lower.

  ‘Weed.�
��

  ‘What?’ his mother cried out.

  ‘Had some fun at the park, did you Andrew?’

  ‘I… I only smoked a bit. I don’t know who brought it. It was just passed around for fun. We are not dealers or anything.’

  His father looked confused.

  ‘You came to our house about a teenager having a smoke? You aren’t local police. Why are you here? We have rights, you know.’

  ‘I know, sir. I just wanted to give your son a chance to declare his whereabouts. We are investigating a murder case…’

  ‘A murder case!’ Maria Kontou looked stressed out and ready to faint. Her face turned pale white, drained of all color, and her head shook from side to side in denial. ‘No, no. My boy has nothing to do with any murder. He was at the park…’ she mumbled away, not sure how to continue her sentence.

  ‘What murder case?’ his father wanted to know.

  ‘Alexis Callis’.

  ‘The retired art teacher?’ Maria asked.

  ‘That’s the one. He was murdered down by Monolithos beach, in one of the little caves along the beach,’ I said.

  ‘And why do you think my son has anything to do with this?’

  ‘Mr. Kontou, your son’s hairs were found on the body,’ Ioli stated. Maria could not hold back her tears. George stared at his son in disbelief. The youth stood up and raised his voice.

  ‘Now you listen here. I was at the park with my friends. I have nothing to do with this. I did not even know the guy. This is crazy.’

  ‘Sit down, please,’ Ioli said and his parents gently pulled him back to the sofa. ‘No one is making any accusations here. We are investigating evidence. How did your hair end up on the body of Alexis Callis?’

  ‘I don’t know. We hang about in those caves often. Always have. All teenagers go down there, to drink, smoke… be with a girl, you know?’

  As I predicted. The answer we did not want to hear. The evidence was circumstantial at best.

  ‘You can’t blame my boy for this shit, pardon my language. The guy was murdered in a cave where Andrew had sat with his friends. It’s the same as finding a dead guy at my work. I’m sure many of my hairs are on the bank’s floor.’

  ‘As I said, we are only following leads. Thank you for your time,’ I said and got up. Ioli stared at me for a good minute. She stood up beside me and whispered in my ear. ‘That’s it? We are not pushing it more?’

  ‘Let’s talk in the car.’ I turned towards Andrew. ‘Names of friends who can verify you were at the park last night.’

  ‘Erm, who was there? Christo, Annita, Alina, Costa… I think Emily was there for a while, Antony came later and stayed till late… There was a bunch of others too, but these are the ones I was with.’

  ‘Your story better check out or we will be back. Have a nice day.’

  We left behind a distressed family and a grounded-for-a-month Andrew.

  ‘Weed? You stupid boy.’ His mother slapped him across his face. Never mess with an angry Greek mother. Never. Andrew took the walk of shame up to his room. Sexting with Alina would relax his mind. In the meanwhile, Ioli’s mind could not relax.

  We drove off in silence. Minutes later, I turned to Ioli, lost in her thoughts. ‘The evidence isn’t…’

  ‘Enough to stand up in court. I know. That is why I knew we needed a confession. Just disappointed, that’s all. Pay no attention to me, my body and my mind have ganged up against me lately. I’ll be fine.’

  And when Ioli stresses that she will be fine, that signals the end of the conversation. She hated being asked if she was OK. She once told me ‘and what is OK anyway? This is a crazy world we live in. I don’t think we are ever OK. By what criteria are we OK? And what an annoying word! OK… So simple, so shallow…’

  The weather for once decided on being our ally. The downpour, had turned into a mizzle and, by evening, the clouds had vanished from the sky. The winter sun was off early to bed and all the Thira teens came out to play. The park filled up with bike-riding teens, young boys on roller skates trying hard to impress the girls with their moves and groups of five or six gathered around benches, smoking, drinking and laughing.

  It did not take long to find Andrew’s gang. Everyone knows everyone in small towns. First kid we asked, pointed towards where they were sitting. As we approached the group, their vibrant talking diminished into silence. They all turned, curiosity mixed with uncertainty written in their eyes. They did not get to see many strangers during the winter.

  ‘Hey,’ Ioli approached, smiling. ‘Nice wheels.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Antony answered, sitting up straight on his black BMX.

  ‘We were wondering if you could help your friend Andrew out. We are with the police and…’

  With the sound of the word police, they all straightened up and exchange worried looks.

  ‘… we need to note down Andrew’s whereabouts so he isn’t blamed for something he did not do. He was here with you last night, right?’

  Annita spoke first. She spat out her chewing gum and said that Andrew was at the park last night.

  ‘What time did he get here?’ I asked.

  ‘Around six. There was still light,’ Christo said. ‘It was just the three of us in the beginning, but soon we were all here. Is Andrew in trouble, sir?’

  ‘Not if you can verify that he was here with you. And you sat here all night?’

  ‘Well, mostly, yeah.’

  ‘We went to the kiosk at one point.’

  ‘I left early…’

  ‘I left and came back around ten…’

  ‘Did Andrew leave at any point?’ Ioli asked, interrupting the simultaneous answers.

  ‘Erm, I don’t think so,’ an unsure Emily said.

  ‘He was here, when I got back at eleven,’ Costa said.

  His breath smelled of marijuana. A plastic bag with a couple of bottles of alcohol lay by the side of the bench. These teens came here for what they perceived to be a good time and got wasted. Desultory teenagers came and went. Andrew could have left, returned later and still have witnesses verifying he had been there the whole time.

  ‘We have two options,’ Ioli said as we walked back to the car. ‘We either accept, Andrew had nothing to do with the murder and his hairs were already in the cave or we accept that this park is the best alibi ever. Dozens of kids coming and going at all hours, not looking at the clock. He could have left at seven and come back at half eight and still have witnesses.’

  My thoughts exactly.

  I tried hard to keep my thoughts on the case. It was hard not to think of my father being hit by a car and lying in a hospital bed. I texted relatives as often as I could. To get updates on his condition, but mostly to see how my mother was coping. I could not find the courage to talk to her. I know my decision outraged her. I hoped that one day she would understand.

  A dark night surrounded us. No visible moon and the majority of stars had yet to come out to play. We drove down dark streets where the cold wind blew. Everyone, besides the crazy youngsters in the park, locked up warm in their homes.

  ‘Watch out,’ Ioli screamed and I slammed down on the brakes. A black figure ran out into the street. The tires screeched, leaving behind black snake like lines on the road. We came to a halt; the car’s lights revealing Father Agvoustino as he froze like a cat in the middle of the street. His eyes were wide open, in obvious shock. His black clothes were soaked in blood and drops fell from open wounds on his head. He breathed frantically.

  ‘Help me… Help me,’ he kept repeating, each time the words coming out louder and louder. He gathered his courage as he realized who we were. We stepped out of the car and approached him. He fell to his knees.

  ‘Thank God, it’s you. He is in the church. He tried to kill me.’ He lifted his finger and pointed towards the alleyway that led to the church. ‘Get him,’ he said and collapsed.

  Chapter 31

  Dr. Ariadne Metaxa’s office

  ‘Were you close? Your father and you?’
Ariadne Metaxa asked. She had just placed my herbal tea, next to me, on a wooden, hand carved side table.

  I sunk back into the soft armchair. I forced a smile. ‘Just because I did not drop everything and rush off to New York, doesn’t mean we weren’t close or I didn’t care.’

  She did not reply until she had poured her share of the pungent tea and sat down slowly in the armchair opposite me. ‘Did I imply such a thing? Have I ever judged you, Costa?’ She brought the steamy, porcelain tea cup to her full lips. The moment she took her first sip, was probably one of the few moments her eyes were not focused on me.

  ‘Mmm… I love a warm cup during these cold evenings…’ Another passionate sip. ‘Maybe a story, to complete the setting. I am sure, you have a good father and son tale to share.’

  ‘We were as close as men were back then. He did not say I love you and we rarely hugged, but the love was there. I was his only son. You know, Greek parents back then had a saying. I have one child and two daughters.’ She gave off her characteristic giggle.

  ‘People with just daughters had no children then.’

  ‘Something like that. He worked his ass off for his family. Mama too. Immigrants in a foreign land with a heavy accent and little knowledge of the language. He came back from the factory broken and went back every morning with a smile. We never felt poor. We never felt children of a lesser God. Father always provided. I am so proud of him. Always have been. He wasn’t always there for me, but when I really needed him, I knew I could count on him. He taught me to ride a bike, to shave, to drive…’

  A tear fought to form in the corner of my eye. Call me old fashioned, but men of my time, do not cry in front of pretty ladies. During Ariadne’s next sip, the tears were quickly wiped away.

  ‘As for your story… I must have been sixteen at the time, approaching seventeen. I started dating this Mexican girl from my biology class. She was drop dead gorgeous, smart, funny, but my mother would not approve. All us Greek kids had to find a decent Greek girl to date.’ I rolled my eyes. ‘Anyway, I did not say a word about Lucia at home. One Saturday evening, I find on my bed a ten dollar note and a piece of paper that said take that girl somewhere nice. The following week, more money and another note buy her something romantic like flowers or chocolates, this time. Cliche, I know. This went on for like a month or so. I believed mama thought I was dating a Greek girl or that she was cooler than I had her out to be. So, one day, I came out the shower and on my bed was a box of condoms. The note read: Costumes for your gentleman. Be respectful to the girl and don’t worry too much. Big size dicks run in the family. She will be pleased!’

 

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