‘I don’t know what they expect…’ Agatha mumbled, before screaming as she felt two hands grab her from behind.
‘You’re home!’ Cassandra yelled with excitement, hugging her sister and jumping up and down. ‘What you screaming for, silly? It’s me. God, I’ve missed you. It has been soooo boring with mum and dad. Actually, you came right on time. They both have been really weird since yesterday. Mum keeps crying and dad has not spoken a word,’ Cassandra chatted away, oblivious to Agatha going red and breathing heavily.
The commotion downstairs alerted her parents who sat in silence upstairs. They had yelled and cried ever since receiving what they presumed was their daughter’s porn video. They had tried calling her on her apartment’s phone, yet received no answer.
They both rushed to the top of the granite stairs, pausing upon witnessing their daughter, neither knowing how to react.
Agatha, also, remained still, her trembling eyes focused on her parents.
‘Should I prepare…’ Flora began to ask, breaking the awkward silence.
‘Just get back to doing the laundry, Flora,’ Irene Zampetaki snapped. ‘And you, Cassandra, go clear up that pigsty of a room. Having a maid does not excuse living like a vagrant,’ she continued, her eyes not staring at either Flora or Cassandra. Both remained focused on Agatha.
‘But Ma, Agatha just got home and…’
‘Leave!’ Irene yelled. ‘Now! And don’t call me Ma, it’s peasant-like talk.’
Cassandra frowned and lowered her eyes. She tried to grab her sister’s hand, but Agatha retrieved it quickly. ‘It’s okay, go,’ Agatha managed to say with a croaky voice. Cassandra, for the first time, had trouble reading her sister. Though they had eight years between them, they had always been close. Cassandra idolized her older sister and missed her daily when she left to go study in the big city.
‘Fine,’ ten-year old Cassandra said and stomped out the room. Flora had already retreated to the laundry room. It was common knowledge in the household to never argue or disobey Mrs Zampetaki when she was upset as the older members of the staff called it. Bitchy was the word most popular among the younger members.
Cosmas and Agatha remained still, staring at each other. The silence between them was deafening. Cosma loved nothing more than his first born daughter, nothing came close. He never quite loved Cassandra the same, though he never admitted it. As for Irene, their initial fascination and romance never grew into love, at least into the love they had dreamt of. Agatha was his world. He often found himself remembering the first time he held her in his arms. How tiny she was, the way her eyes focused on his, her fingers wrapped around his thumb. The first time she spoke, walked, laughed, ate. Now, every time he closed his eyes, he saw her with those men; pleasing them in ways that made his stomach turn.
‘Dad, I…’ Agatha began to say, having gathered enough emotional strength to explain the true situation.
‘Shut up,’ her mother coldly interrupted her. ‘Not here, you stupid girl. The walls have ears. Let’s go to the study, away from the staff,’ she continued as she came down the stairs, avoiding eye contact with her daughter. She walked straight past her. Agatha lowered her head and followed her. It took a while for Cosma to move and join them in the study.
‘Lock the door,’ Irene ordered him, rolling her eyes; clearly annoyed with the two minutes he took to arrive.
Agatha approached her mother from behind. ‘I know what you think, but…’
Her words were cut short by Irene’s hand. Irene slapped her hard across her face. ‘How dare you dishonor the family like this? We sent you to study and you.. you… you…’ Irene’s voice trembled more with every you. She could not form her thoughts into a sentence.
‘You’ve got it all wrong,’ Agatha said, her left cheek going red.
‘Wrong? We saw you fuck around with God knows how many men!’ Irene shrieked. Cosma lowered his head and wiped his eyes with the sound of the word.
‘I was raped!’ Agatha yelled back. ‘And it’s all your fault!,’ she screamed towards her father. Cosma raised his head in shock, the words hitting him hard. His mind trying to register the word rape and make sense about how it was his fault.
‘Raped?’ he struggled to say.
‘By Ioannis Marousaki’s sons and grandsons. I was tied up and locked away. They raped me again and again all because of your family’s stupid vendetta,’ Agatha rushed to state her story. She panted and was nearly yelling out her defence. ‘They edited the film and left only the scenes where it seems I am participating. The film does not show how they beat me and forced me to do it. The music on the film covers me begging them to stop. After the first few days, I had lost all will to fight back,’ she continued, having lowered her voice. Her eyes journeyed back and forth from Irene to Cosma. Her father had covered his mouth and had fallen back into the burgundy armchair. Her mother remained expressionless and distant. Irene turned her back on them and slowly walked towards the closed window. She gazed outside, admiring her extravagant garden in full blossom. The sun was travelling towards the oceanic horizon and bright orange light surrounded the colorful flowers.
‘How could you even believe such a video to have been my choice?’ Agatha expressed her disappointment in her father. The one person who always stood by her, no matter what. ‘Dad, it’s me!’
Tears ran down Cosmas cheeks all the way down into his heavy mustache. He leapt out of his chair and opened his arms wide. Agatha fell into his arms, leaning her head against his heavily breathing chest. His arms girdled her waist and Agatha relaxed, closing her eyes, safe in the arms of the only man she trusted enough to touch her.
‘Well, aren’t you two lovely?’ Irene’s sarcastic question hit them. They let go of each other and turned towards her. She leaned against the wall and stared at them both. ‘And now? All good, hmm? So, Cosma, we take her back in and let them release the video? Continue living with this swinging axe above our heads? Continue as one big, happy family never knowing who has seen our daughter being ravaged by all those men?’
‘Irene, she was raped,’ Cosmas replied.
‘Oh, and that is what we are going to have to inform everyone? Everyone we see who gives us a dirty look, we are supposed to guess he has seen it and explain ourselves. Oh, the disgrace. And who is to say that the bastards of the Marousaki family will not use it to threaten us for the rest of our lives? We know they want our winery! The vineyards!’ Irene paced up and down, waving her arms in all directions as she spoke.
‘And what is it you want us to do, mother?’ Agatha interrupted her dramatic monologue.
‘Save our family from the shame. Can you imagine your grandparents hearing about this? It would send them to their grave in a matter of hours. No, no. This can’t get out. The Marousaki clan must think they have nothing on us.’
‘And how is that going to happen?’ Cosma asked his wife, who had stopped and was rubbing her face with her hands.
‘Agatha leaves. Tonight.’
‘And go where?’ Agatha asked, her hands clenched in fists, her face red.
‘To America. We have family there. My uncle George is a lawyer. He can arrange your papers and you will change your name and enroll at university over there. They have far better schools in the States than in Athens.’
‘Do you even hear yourself? I was fucking raped, you cold hearted bitch. And you want to send me away the time I need to be here the most?’ Agatha could not control herself. The rage she had suppressed to make it back home was rapidly rising to the surface.
Cosmas had fallen back into his armchair. His heart wanted to hug his daughter again, yet his mind produced thoughts about how right his wife was.
‘I’m cold-hearted? I’m trying to protect the family!’
‘The family or your lifestyle? All you want is to be able to continue to go to your galas with your nose up high.’
‘You think I don’t care? What about your sister? What life will she have in our small society? You, for that matter
. You think you will ever find a husband? Or have children? They will hear whispers about their mother. Stop being selfish, Agatha. Be sensible. Many go to America or Australia and start a new exciting life.’
‘And even if I do go, how will that stop the Marousakis?’
Irene exhaled deeply. ‘As I said, you will change your name. We will inform everyone that you won a scholarship to study in America and after a while… we will announce you died.’
‘Died? You are mad.’
‘Like it or not, my mind is made up. With you dead, no one will threaten us. Who would release a movie with a dead girl? Also, with you dead and us in grief, the Marousakis will be satisfied with us being punished, with us being in pain. If you agree to this plan, you will have enough money each month to live a life worth living in America.’
‘Just like everything in life, you are going to buy me out, buy my silence. And if I don’t agree to your ludicrous plan?’
‘Then we will disown you. You will get nothing and people will accept the lie as truth. That you starred in porn and we kicked you out.’
Agatha’s eyes widened, shining from the tears gathered in them. ‘You are a disgrace to the word mother. I will leave, but not to protect the family from shaming, but only to have the joy of never seeing you again.’
‘Agatha…’ her father said, standing up. Agatha walked straight past him. ‘I knew she lacked a heart. I did not know you lacked the balls to stand up to her,’ she said, marching to the door. ‘I’ll be upstairs packing. Make the arrangements.’
Chapter 22
‘Raped! I was eighteen years old and they sent me away when I needed them the most!,’ Agatha concluded. ‘Dead to everyone who ever knew me.’
All eyes in the room were fixed on her; her tragic story finally rising to the surface.
‘What did your sister ever do to you?’ her aunt Anneta expressed the question on all our minds.
‘Perfect little Cassandra, right? Well, your precious baby girl grew up and changed. She became more and more like Irene every day. She came to America to study and never once did she come to visit me. When I heard she was getting married, I called her and all she was worried about was mum’s money. I asked if I could come to the wedding, disguised as someone else and she laughed. She warned me to stay away. She could not risk me ruining her perfect day. And she rubbed it in my face, how Irene had promised her all the family fortune; I was to receive nothing. It all seemed so unfair. I was raped, I was punished, I was sent away and she was to receive it all? That is when I came up with the plan. My revenge against my mother and to inherit what was truly mine. I knew that with Cassandra out of the way, Cosma would leave everything to me. All that I was entitled to.’
‘That is why you wanted her ring, too,’ Ioli said, coming closer.
‘It was my great-grandmother’s. I was the one that should have worn it on my wedding day.’
‘So much hatred,’ Helena Zampetaki said and closed her eyes, tears streaking down the crow’s feet around them.
‘You could have come to us for money, child. Was it really worth murdering your own blood? Why not plan revenge against the men that did it to you?’ Anneta asked, sobbing as she searched for answers.
Agatha turned her cold look towards her. ‘Well, I guess there’s no point in concealing anything anymore.’ She paused as an evil smile spread across her face, swollen from wearing the fake skin. ‘I already killed them. All five of them. Burnt them alive, following in the footsteps of my arsonist ancestor.’
Cosma could not stop staring at the person that his daughter had become.
‘This is why your background checks on Maria Marousaki showed no living relatives, mighty police Captain,’ Agatha continued, turning towards me. ‘They all died long ago. I came back to Crete the month after I was declared dead. And I waited. Waited for months before my chance appeared. All five went on a hunting trip, staying at a cabin in the mountains. The flames swallowed that wooden hut in a matter of minutes,’ she announced, glowing proud; her smile never leaving her face.
‘As you seem to be in a mood for revelations, would you do me the favor of explaining how exactly you managed to go upstairs to your mother, unnoticed in the few minutes you were seen going to the lavatory downstairs.’
Mark and Tracy’s entrance to the room did not deter Agatha from admitting to her crimes. Not even Tracy’s murderous look as she stared upon the woman who had thrown her into her underground prison.
‘The old maid’s stairs. They were closed off years ago, deemed unsafe. It was you, grandma, that persuaded arrogant Irene that maids could use the main stairwell and the steps were sealed off. I knocked on her door and pictured her face when I said my name. She must have leapt out of the bathtub. Well, she was always weak, it was easy to force feed her the pills.’
‘Agatha Zampetaki, you are under arrest…’ Ioli began as she approached with her handcuffs dangling from her left hand.
‘Funny how it has been so long since I last heard my real name,’ Agatha said, before whispering ‘my work here is done.’
She, then, grabbed the knife, jumped onto the table and ran towards me. As she lunged off the table, knife stretched out, Ioli fired. The bullet hit Agatha’s black, broken heart and blood shot out in the air. Her body fell with a loud thump upon the floor. Cosma ran to his daughter. Even after all he had heard, he still took her into his arms and as her last breath departed from her lips, he cried over the loss of yet another child.
Our silence, as we gazed at the tragic scene, was broken by Anna’s scream to God.
Gianni had one hand on his right shoulder and trembled all over. The gun shot was the final blow to his frail heart. Mark rushed to him, only to regret minutes later that he was the one who had to inform the woman he loved, that her beloved father was no longer with us.
Anna sat down on the floor, held the hand of the man that stood by her through all her adult life, closed her eyes and prayed for her husband’s soul to find eternal peace.
Ioli did not take it so calmly. She placed her head upon her father’s chest and cried uncontrollably.
Hours passed in the house with many bodies. The storm finally weakened and moved on. The sight of the ferry approaching on the horizon, accompanied by the coastguard police, scattered solace through the mausoleum of a mansion.
We all departed the small island that day. None to ever return again.
Chapter 23
I have never been one to go to funerals; my erratic working hours always providing cover for not showing up to a friend’s or relative’s farewell ceremony. I am not one for closure, I guess. Death is closure enough and I witness it daily, no need to surround myself in other’s grief, sorrow, regret, pain. I buried a child. My one and only child. On my knees, I saw my baby girl lowered into the ground. Since then, nothing has ever managed to shock me or bring sadness into my soul. My emotions died with Gaby. Even last year, when I buried my father, who truly was my best friend, a role model like no other, I did not turn mournful. My heart mostly went out to my mother who needed me by her side. The dead are dead, it is the living that carry the loss. Now, I felt the same way. I was there for Ioli. For that slight, short-lived, half-smile on her face as she saw me, Tracy and other friends from the police station outside of Saint Nicholaos church in Chania.
The February sky dressed appropriately for Gianni’s final journey. A Greek man with values, a man who held his country, his family, and his religion close in his heart; the very organ that failed him. Mortality. Death will come for us all. You would presume that as animals with knowledge of our fate we would do a better job –or at least try-at living happy and at peace with one another. Yet, I wake up every morning to a new case of a murdered victim. Rage, anger, jealousy, madness. Welcome to planet Earth, where every day a war is going on somewhere around the globe.
‘Your mind going over your life philosophy again?’ Tracy whispered, pinching me on my hand to catch my attention.
‘My mind hasn’t
stopped grumbling,’ I replied, my stiff facial expression sweetened by how well she knew me.
‘Let’s get inside,’ she said, closing up her coat. The wind circled us with its icy currents. The ocean breeze was hitting us hard, always with its ability to penetrate your clothes and your skin, and reach your bones.
Dressed in black, she held her grieving mother as they followed behind Gianni’s shiny, wooden casket with the heavy, brass handles.
Anna, though clearly, deeply tormented, did not cry out like most Greek women tend to do at funerals. A weird sense of melancholy surrounded her. Her mind was probably fondly remembering dear moments with the love of her life. A religious woman with gratitude for the life God had helped her live, rather than pondering on things she never had or things she had lost.
The overweight priest with the golden-plated Bible began to say the psalms. His deep voice echoed around the high ceilinged church. People sat with the eyes focused firmly on the ground.
I remained standing in the back. Tracy slowly let go of my hand and went to light a candle. My eyes followed her for a while, until they noticed Mark standing alone by Archangel Rafael’s icon. His eyes were set on Ioli. His expression revealing how much he wished to take her into his arms and whisper in her ear that everything would be okay and that he would stand by her. Greek men don’t fall easily in love, but when they do, they fall into a trance. The hunter awakens and all their mind can think about is the woman of their affection.
The ceremony came to an end as the first droplets of water fell from the charcoal sky. Black umbrellas were opened and people coupled up to follow Gianni’s coffin to his final resting ground. We walked past tall cypresses and dark green yews, amongst marble crucifixes with names and ages engraved into them. Children, adults, old folks. Mothers, fathers, brothers and sisters. The variety haunting, provoking the mind. Lives cut short at any moment. I remembered my doctor’s appointment next Monday. My stomach, knee, and back pains were getting worse. Tracy finally had enough of my man-whining and booked me an appointment to have a full check-up.
Greek Island Mysteries Boxed Set (Books 1-2-3): Gripping, psychological mystery/thrillers destined to shock you! Page 61