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

by Luke Christodoulou

  ‘No, you don’t. But your girlfriend does.’

  ‘Me?’ Kallisto dragged out her shriek.

  ‘May you please approach me, dear? Sit here, for a moment.’ I patted the back of the chair in front of me. Kallisto looked around at all the eyes focused on her, yet it was my trembling eyes that scared her the most. She shook off her nerves and took on her role for one last time.

  ‘This is preposterous,’ she said in her diva voice and flicked her hair back. She stood up, ironed down her dress with her hands and walked towards me. With an icy look, she stared into my eyes and reluctantly sat down.

  Her bright red lipstick shone against her now ashen face. Her mouth opened slowly as she searched for the right words. I gave her no such opportunity.

  ‘I’ll do the talking. Ioli control the crowd,’ I said as I lifted my gun and placed it at her right temple. Kallisto shivered and stuttered.

  ‘Ple.. Pleassss… Please… I…’

  Multiple cries came from the crowd before me. Melissa and Mark stood up in shock.

  ‘This is madness,’ Anneta yelled, her eyes opening wider than I thought possible.

  ‘My God, he is crazy,’ Leonida said, sitting back down.

  ‘Relax, Costa,’ Anna advised.

  Ioli’s steady voice silenced them all. ‘Sit down, now. All of you. And be quiet. Next person to talk will be arrested for obstruction of justice.’ Her Beretta M9 pointed towards them, leaving them no room for any questioning.

  ‘You claim to be a successful film star, yet can you reveal the balance in your bank account?’ I asked.

  ‘My bank account? That is private information…’

  I pressed the gun harder against her skin.

  ‘I’m broke,’ she whispered.

  ‘Louder, please.’

  ‘I’m broke.’

  ‘Not only broke, you filed for bankruptcy, isn’t that true? Investments gone sour, I read in Gossip Cop. You owe hundreds of thousands. You have six months to pay investors off before going to court.’

  ‘What have my financial difficulties got to do…’

  ‘It was your reason for killing Cassandra Zampetaki.’

  Gasps echoed again. Cosmas stood up, his shaking hands holding on to the table.

  ‘Admit it,’ I raised my voice.

  ‘I will admit no such thing. You are mad.’

  ‘Want to know how mad? You know very well my wife is missing and you have no idea how far I am willing to go to get her back,’ I hissed in her ear, leaning in closer to her; my gun never leaving her skin.

  ‘Why would I kill her? I don’t inherit anything. You say money is the reason…’

  ‘Because you are going to be paid off by Cassandra’s sister.’

  Cosma fell back into his chair.

  ‘Her sister is dead,’ Homer called out, still glowing red from anger about my previous revelations.

  ‘Is she now? Cosma? I checked the fallen flight you claim your daughter to be on. Another lie. No one under the name Agatha Zampetaki or Marina Spyropoulou, the name she changed it to when you sent her away to live in the States.’

  Cosma had difficulty breathing. His heavy chest moved rapidly up and down. ‘Please, don’t tell me my sweet Agatha is behind all this.’

  ‘I’ll get to that shortly. Now, Kallisto is going to reveal where my wife is or I will be forced to stop being so nice.’

  Once again, her lips separated, yet no words were produced. I was getting tired and impatient. My Tracy was missing. The storm raged outside.

  Desperate times, desperate measures and all that…

  Bang! I shot my gun towards the ceiling, right next to Kallisto’s ear. Her whole body moved and twitched. Her words flew out, almost covered by the various screams from the throng opposite us.

  ‘She’s in the old sewage hole behind the shed. Please, don’t kill me!’

  ‘No one moves a muscle,’ I called over to Ioli, as I ran for the door.

  ‘Boss, wait. You might need help.’

  I slowed down, but did not stop. ‘You have to stay here or they will escape.’

  ‘They?’ Ioli whispered.

  ‘No one is to leave. No one. Mark, come with me. I might need help,’ I said and rushed out the room; on my way out, witnessing the slight relief on Ioli’s face from hearing that Mark was not a part of ‘they’.

  Mark followed me without hesitation, pausing only at the entrance of the mansion to don his black raincoat. I had already leapt out into the storm and sprinted through the muddy ground towards the relic of a shed.

  ‘Tracy,’ I yelled out as I reached the back of the cottage. Panting, I searched around.

  Water had reached up to Tracy’s neck; her body was numb from the low temperatures. At first, she dismissed my voice as wishful thinking. At the sound of my second yelling, she began yelping out my name. By the time I knelt above the bar seal of her prison, Mark stood behind me. We both lifted the iron cap and threw it in the mud beside us. Water fell vigorously above us, as Mark said ‘Grab my feet and lower me down to her.’

  I held on to his legs with tears in my eyes. Tracy reached out and grabbed his hands, her soul relieved to finally being lifted out of hell.

  ‘You came, you came. Costa…’ she wept in my arms.

  Inside, Ioli ignored the pleas for reason, the begging to use the toilet, the kind requests for water.

  ‘Everybody needs to shut the fuck up and remain still,’ she ordered; for the first time, Gianni did not try to discipline her vocabulary. He remained quiet, his heart burning from all the commotion and distress.

  Her eyes spread wide as I reentered the room, soaking wet and with sludge dripping from my clothes.

  ‘Tracy?’ she asked.

  ‘She is fine. She is with Mark, by the library’s fire.’

  ‘Thank God,’ Anna said.

  ‘So, Kallisto,’ I said approaching her. ‘You knew where my wife was. Do not think for a moment that my finding her alive will soften me. I will shoot again. Did you murder Cassandra Zampetaki?’

  ‘How could I? I was with Leonida. Baby, tell them.’

  ‘That’s true, I told you…’

  ‘What you thought to be the truth. I give you that much. You mentioned how early you two went up to bed, unlike your characters. You Leonida being a drunk and all, and Kallisto being infamous for her partying. It was Kallisto who insisted that you go up to bed, wasn’t it?’

  Leonida nodded in reply, his eyes shaking, waiting for my next words.

  ‘You, also mentioned how you were surprised you fell asleep so easily after having a shower, the hour being so early and how as a light sleeper, the thunder would keep you up. Spiked his drink, Kallisto?’ I asked, placing the sleeping pills in front of her, which I had found in her bag while Ioli had been ordering everyone to leave their rooms and proceed to the dining room.

  ‘Those are for me.’

  ‘I’m sure they are. Now back to the details. You once worked as a make-up artist, right? You even bragged how great you were.’

  ‘Yes…’ she replied, her throat closing up.

  ‘Ladies and gentlemen, there was never an aunt Myrrine. The old lady we all saw is sitting right before your eyes. Kallisto, you gave an Oscar-worthy performance, I’ll give you that much.’

  Silence. Shock. Letting it all sink in.

  ‘But how?’ Gianni finally spoke.

  ‘We never saw them together, none of us. On the ferry here, Kallisto retreated to her cabin. A weird choice for an hour’s trip. A cabin where Leonida fell asleep once again. A cabin where in her large trunk –in which we were all supposed to believe a diva carried clothes, shoes and accessories-she carried a wheelchair. Kallisto wore her wig, her fake skin and became Aunt Myrrine. It was as Aunt Myrrine she came with us on the bus. Leonida, you were alone in the taxi here, were you not?’

  ‘Yes, we were going to come up here with a cab -Kallisto refused to board the bus-but at the last minute she told me to go on ahead alone with all our luggage as
she wished to shop at the shops down at the bay. I saw her last in our cabin.’

  ‘Of course. A cabin from which she once again came out of as Aunt Myrrine. Then, at the party, we all saw Kallisto, and the old lady was nowhere to be seen.’

  ‘You have no proof,’ Kallisto snorted.

  ‘That is up to a court of law to decide. Anyway, I am sure that when the storm calms and we get a forensics team up here, they will find the murder weapon tossed somewhere around these grounds, probably find your fingerprints and DNA all over the pool house and Cassandra. You are no expert. You did not plan on police being here. Agatha probably promised you that it would be classified as a murder by Maria Marousaki. Why would police search more, right? Kallisto, you are under arrest for the murder of Cassandra Zampetaki,’ I said, took out my handcuffs and grabbed her wrists, securing her arms to the chair.

  Cosmas could not take the wait any longer.

  ‘Where is my daughter?’ he cried out to Kallisto, who had begun to weep.

  ‘In this very room, Cosma,’ I replied, shocking them all once more.

  Cosma stared, confused, puzzled.

  ‘The kind girl you took so easily to. The girl you could not stop staring at during breakfast; staring at her eyes. The girl, Katerina mentioned she felt she knew the best. That is because you do know her. Agatha was in front of you the whole time. Wasn’t she, Melissa?’

  ‘God almighty,’ Helena Zampetaki cried out. ‘Is it you, my child?’

  Cosma froze before her. Melissa stood up, unsure of her next move. I raised my gun towards her. ‘Will you please remove your make-up, too? Excellent job, Kallisto, you truly are talented.’

  Melissa remained still for a few seconds, before using both hands to pull off her hideous, fake scars. Skin tissue fell to the ground, leaving Agatha standing before her father.

  ‘My baby girl,’ he cried, and moved to go near her.

  ‘Come any closer and I will strangle you,’ she warned, in a spine-chilling tone.

  ‘Settle your fond feelings, Cosma,’ I spoke to the fragile man. ‘She murdered your wife. Your own mother, Agatha?’

  ‘You have no idea, Captain. No idea what I have been through…’

  Chapter 21

  Athens, years ago

  ‘Scared of flying, huh?’ the lanky man with the bizarre, ginger goatee asked with a grin that my mother would have described as stupid. Wipe that stupid grin off your face would surely make the top ten of mama Papacosta’s most popular sayings.

  Agatha sat uncomfortably, leaned towards the window, keeping as far as possible from the man. Airplanes did not scare her, they never had did.

  ‘It’s OK, it is only an hour’s flight,’ the dark-haired man continued. ‘Before you know it, we will be safe and sound on the ground.’ The last part of his sentence came out as if he was reading some school kid’s poem, rhyming sound with ground.

  ‘Tea or coffee?’ the curvy flight attendant with the long eyelashes and the full, red lips asked, pausing at their row; her blue eyes scanning the half-asleep lady in seat A, the tall man in seat B and Agatha by the window.

  ‘Coffee, please,’ the elderly woman ordered, while yawning.

  ‘Excuse me, may I change my seat?’ Agatha spoke between the blonde lady’s long yawn and her silent gasping for air.

  Veronica, as her name tag revealed, kept her wide smile, though her eyes ping-ponged back and forth between Agatha and the man. ‘Of course, come with me,’ she said in a calm voice. Agatha stood up and squinted her eyes as she inadvertently rubbed against the man’s long legs. She exhaled in relief as she reached the air hostess. ‘Next to a woman, if that’s possible,’ she whispered to Veronica.

  ‘How about I do you one better?’ Veronica asked, flashing a full, white toothed smile. ‘Follow me.’

  Agatha ambled along behind the attractive lady, sensing the man’s judgmental look following her.

  ‘If he only knew…’

  Agatha walked behind the leggy woman all the way to the hanging, thick blue curtain. Veronica reached out and pulled the drapes aside.

  ‘No one normally travels first class for such a short flight. But, you seem like you need your space,’ she said with her professional smile replaced by a more sincere one. ‘If you need anything, don’t hesitate to buzz. It’s the small button by the side of your chair with the funny light bulb image stuck on it.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Agatha managed to say, holding back the tears forming around the corners of her eyes.

  Veronica smiled and closed the curtain behind her as she rushed back to her coffee or tea serving duties. ‘All in a day’s work,’ she whispered to herself, as she picked up the pot with the hot water, wore her trademark smile and mechanically asked the next row of flyers what they wished to drink.

  Meanwhile, Agatha had settled down in the wider, first class seat. There, she gazed out the narrow window and got lost in thought.

  She wondered if she would ever feel normal again.

  ‘What is normal anyway?’ she asked herself, then looked behind her to make sure she was alone. ‘Stupid Crete and its fucking Vendettas,’ she lowered her voice to a breathy whisper and gazed out her window.

  She pondered if Achilles ever actually had feelings for her or if he was the world’s greatest actor. She reflected on how they had met and everything they had lived through together. She imagined killing him. Killing them all. She decided straight away that she would go to the police.

  ‘So what if the world finds out? So what if they release the video? And release it where? No company would sell it if it is an ongoing rape case. By themselves over the internet? Most people don’t even have a computer at home…’

  That is when Agatha realized she truly did not mind if the world saw her humiliation if it was the only way to receive justice and see the bastards that did this to her go to jail. The only person she did not wish to witness the video was her father and according to Panteli he had already seen it. Again, she felt the urge to pray and ask God that he had not seen his daughter get violated that way.

  ‘Why? Why me?’ her inner voice screamed.

  ‘I’m trying to make sense of a senseless situation…’ was her last thought; a thought interrupted by the Captain’s gruff voice booming over the aircraft’s built-in speakers.

  ‘Ladies and gentlemen, this is your Captain speaking. We are about to begin our final descent to Chania airport. Currently, the weather is as it is always here in Greece, sunny and the temperature a fine 27 degrees Celsius. We have certainly enjoyed having you on board today, we hope to see you again real soon, and thanks again for flying with Olympic Airlines, voted by you as Greece’s best airline for a third consecutive year.’

  Agatha closed her eyes, forcing her mind to shut down.

  ‘Stop thinking…’

  She exhaled deeply as the wheels made contact with the ground. Agatha rushed to get up and go to the door first. The last thing she needed was to be surrounded, and touched by fellow passengers.

  ‘Please remain seated, sweetie,’ Veronica’s voice came from behind the curtains. The air stewardess had kept an eye on her. Agatha obeyed and waited for the Captain to announce that the aircraft had come to a complete stop and it was safe to unfasten your seatbelt. Then, she dashed to the door. Veronica approached her, creating distance between her and the next passenger.

  ‘Is everything OK, honey?’

  ‘I’m fine,’ Agatha snapped. ‘Thank you,’ she immediately said, with her voice going soft. ‘Thank you for everything,’ she continued and even forced a smile.

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘You did everything you could at the moment and provided me with solitude. Now, I have to stand on my own two feet.’

  Veronica winked at her and stepped forward, towards the open door.

  ‘Thank you for travelling with us. Wish to see you again,’ she said in her professional, soothing voice and watched as the young, fragile girl alighted.

  Agatha forced her mind to remain
quiet as she went about the procedures from plane to exit. Expressionless, she moved with the crowd, going through customs, waiting for the metal snake to move and bring out her luggage and then exiting to the bustling road outside that was filled with cabs and buses.

  Agatha scanned the drivers, opting for the grumpy looking old man with the checked cap and the short cigar. He looked like the silent type. The last thing she needed to endure was a chatty, indiscreet, Greek driver. Other than a grunt that sounded like a hello and a where to, the tall man with the scruffy-looking trousers and the filthy nails did not speak during the twenty minute drive to Chania’s outskirts. He did not even turn on the radio. The silence was welcomed by them both. Having suffered horribly for the first time in her life, Agatha had a new understanding of the world. Before, she would easily have deemed the tall driver with the begging-for-a-comb greyish hair as anti-social, as poor and pathetic, as a loner in a life and much more. Now, she could not resist but think about what things could have happened during his life for him to desire silence and not care about his image.

  She did not care anymore. For the first time she left the house without make-up on. Just last week, travelling without wearing brand new clothes, having her hair done and wearing lip-gloss and eye shadow would have been labelled as a crime.

  As the driver whistled upon seeing her palace of a house, she took out double the amount the meter read and handed it to the man.

  ‘Have a decent cigar and a few drinks on me. We are all coping with life,’ she said and exited the green vehicle. The puzzled man took the money and through the lowered window, offered Agatha a yellow-toothed, crooked smile.

  Agatha stood at the high gates of her parent’s property. She gazed at the mansion in the distance for a good five minutes, before grabbing the handle and entering. She walked up to the house; her right hand taking out the keys from her pocket. She rattled the lock and pushed the heavy door open.

  Miss Flora was the first to welcome her, having been startled by the opening of the door. Both Mrs and Mr Zampetaki were in the sitting room on the top floor.

  ‘Miss Agatha? Is that you?’ the maid said, her eyes running up and down Agatha’s plain clothes. ‘Are your parents expecting you? They did not mention anything…’