Murder in Mykonos ak-1

by Jeffrey Siger

The two policemen nodded.

  'It would be better if when we announced the terrible news we also announced the capture of the killer.' He was looking at the floor as he abandoned his cousin.

  'I don't know how we can do that. We don't have proof yet,' said Andreas.

  'I'll give you whatever help you need. If we have no killer, we have no tourists and we have no island. It's as simple as that.'

  'Mr Mayor-'

  'Call me Mihali, Andreas.' He really was politicking now.

  Andreas nodded. 'Mihali, I don't see how we can keep this quiet until we find the killer. It puts too many people in danger.'

  'But I thought you said it's one victim a year and he's already murdered once this year.'

  Tassos answered. 'It just looks that way, but we can't be sure and we've only been to eight churches.'

  The mayor put his head down again. 'I understand, but is anyone missing who meets the description of his victims?'

  Andreas said, 'Not that we know of, but that doesn't mean much. You know how that sort of thing goes unreported.' Andreas diplomatically did not add 'because of your insistence on keeping such things unreported.'

  Again the mayor nodded. 'What if we wait a few days and you spend the time looking into every shadow of Ilias' past, and if he turns out to be the one, well, so be it.'

  Andreas looked at Tassos. It would be impossible to do that sort of investigation with media running all over the island, and if they kept a tight rein on Ilias, there'd be no risk to anyone else. Perhaps the mayor's suggestion wasn't so bad. Unless, of course, the killer wasn't his cousin — but, then again, the mayor was correct in saying the killer seemed to get his urges only once a year. The risk of a few days might well be worth it.

  As if reading Andreas' mind, Tassos said, 'Okay, Mihali, three days, but you must give us your complete co operation-'

  The mayor cut him off. 'Done.'

  Tassos smiled, 'And-'

  'I was afraid of that.' The mayor grinned.

  'Sign a letter on your official stationery acknowledging what we've told you and assuming full responsibility for directing us to keep that information from Athens until we've completed our investigation.'

  It was two political masters at work. All three of them knew the letter would mean nothing to Athens. Tassos and Andreas were toast if this deal ever got out. All it did was keep the mayor from throwing them to the wolves. He didn't even attempt to argue. 'Done.'

  They told the mayor to tell no one — something he'd no doubt figured out for himself — and although they wouldn't be arresting his cousin just yet, they'd be closely watching his every move. Mihali assured them he'd handle any complaints of police harassment from Ilias.

  When Mihali stood up to leave, he told them not to get up. He walked over and shook Andreas' hand. 'Sorry about all that before, Chief. Sometimes my head gets a little too big for my own good.'

  Andreas nodded. 'Thanks. I appreciate that.'

  He also apologized to Tassos. No wonder this guy's stayed in office so long, thought Andreas. He knows when to cut and run — and change horses in midstream.

  After the mayor left, Tassos smiled and said, 'I see you're pretty good at taking care of yourself with political types.'

  Andreas nodded.

  Tassos lightly smacked the arms of his chair. 'So, where do we go from here?'

  'Why are you asking me?' said Andreas, looking puzzled.

  'Because, I'm hoping you'll say "Out to eat." I'm starved.'

  Andreas smiled and with a come-along wave of his hand got up and said, 'Good idea. Let's go to town for some dinner among those we've sworn to serve and protect.' Annika wondered why her evening seemed headed toward ending at a gay bar in Little Venice. Sunset at the harbor had started out nicely, but when the wind picked up, and she went looking for a more sheltered spot, Little Venice was the natural choice, as it offered perfect sunset views. She didn't want to go to one of its popular straight bars and run into someone she knew — and the absolute certainty of being hassled. Then again, the wrong sort of gay place was likely to get her hassled by suitors of another persuasion.

  She peeked inside a bar called Montmartre. It had an English pub-style front room and a larger, table-filled, back room lined with rear windows opening onto the sea. The place seemed cozy and not that busy. The two guys behind the bar — one blond, one dark — were talking with a group of male customers and one very large woman. The dark one was telling a story in Greek and looking very serious. As Annika waited for him to finish, she looked around at the artwork on the walls. From the scenes she could tell it was local but way better than the stuff at her hotel. She liked the feel of the place and asked for a table overlooking the sea. The blond smiled and told her in English to pick any one she wanted. It seemed the perfect, unthreatening place to spend an hour finishing the contemplation she'd begun at the harbor.

  Before her hour had passed the place started filling up, with gay men and older, straight couples. She'd been staring out the window nursing her wine and hadn't noticed the piano tucked away in a corner by the front room until someone started to play. He was good, very good. The place kept filling up. The table she'd had so long to herself she now shared with six others. She didn't mind. They all seemed to be there for the music. Just when Annika thought the place couldn't get busier, the very large woman she'd seen earlier walked into the room and began to sing.

  She was terrific. Before long it was standing room only in the front room. At a break, Annika ran to the toilet just past the bar — after making sure her table mates saved her seat. She was having the best night she could imagine and was working her way back to her table through the bar crowd when she felt a tap on her shoulder.

  'So, we meet again, Annika,' a voice said in English. One of the advantages of being police chief was that you didn't have to park in the public lot over by the ferry landing, a pleasant but ten-minute walk from the main part of town. Andreas nodded as he passed the officer assigned to keep all but taxis and official vehicles from mixing with the crowds milling along the old flagstone road down to the harbor. For part of the way, the road ran at tabletop height above and beside a tiny beach used more by pets than people, that ended abruptly at the north wall of the town's oldest hotel. As the road passed the rear of the hotel it began funneling down between buildings until it was only inches wider than Andreas' car. He had no choice but to crawl along at the pace of the crowd in front of him.

  Andreas poked Tassos and pointed at two young women just beyond the front bumper. They were walking — more like staggering drunk or drugged — as if the police car didn't exist. Their tight skirts ended where their thighs began, and except for thin halter strings around their necks, their backs were bare, adorned with matching tattoos at the base of their spines. Two local boys walking with them noticed the police car and hurried them into the main square where the road opened up again into the taxi stand. Andreas nodded to the boys as he passed — it made them look important. It was a man thing.

  'And they'll wonder why they wake up feeling sore in places they never knew they had,' said Tassos, sounding disgusted.

  Both men were quiet for a moment. 'Do you think ours were like them?' asked Andreas. The victims were personal to him. That happened to cops.

  'Don't know,' said Tassos, shaking his head. 'Don't think so, but I'm not sure why.' He paused. 'Maybe because there were no signs of rape with any of ours, and' — he gestured over his shoulder back at the women — 'with that sort I'd expect to find some evidence of sexual activity.'

  Andreas parked beside a port police SUV, and they joined the crowd packing into the narrow main shopping street of Mykonos. It was still early, not yet eleven, and Matogianni Street was filled with young people trying very hard to look different from one another — so hard, in fact, that they all ended up looking alike. Andreas pointed to a side street, and they moved out of the crowd, heading to a restaurant that was surrounded by bougainvillea and geraniums, filled with white linen-covered ta
bles, and watched over by an owner whose personality gave Greeks a good name.

  Andreas didn't go here simply because Niko wouldn't let him pay — no restaurant would take the chief's money — but because he liked the place. Good food, no attitude, and a garden out of sight from the street. There was a lot to talk about and he wanted no interruptions.

  They chatted at the bar for a few minutes with Niko and his wife, then Niko led them to a table in the rear of the garden. He left them for a moment and came back holding, in one hand, a plate of mostra — fresh made toasted bread, spread thick with homemade Mykonian kopanisti cheese and covered with olives, fresh tomatoes, and olive oil — and a bottle of wine in the other. He poured each a glass and said he'd already ordered for them. They smiled, thanked him, and watched him leave to greet other guests.

  Andreas was in a serious mood. 'Our careers are over if we don't catch this bastard in three days.'

  Tassos shrugged. 'Even if we catch him, Athens will be pissed.' He reached for his wineglass but didn't pick it up. 'They'll say we were grabbing the glory for ourselves by not telling them sooner, and if he gets away…' He let his words drift off and a devilish smile formed as he lifted his glass. 'Yamas, Chief Dead Meat.'

  Andreas smiled and picked up his glass. 'Yamas.'

  They clinked and tasted the wine.

  Andreas put down his glass. 'So, why are you risking your pension for just three more days?'

  Tassos took a longer sip and put down his glass. He tasted the mostra. 'If we don't catch him now, he'll just fade away. Once this gets out, everyone on Mykonos will be a suspect watched by everyone else. He'd have to leave the island — if he wanted to keep killing — or just stop. Either way, he'd get away.'

  Tassos picked up his glass again but just stared at it. 'He'll have murdered all those young women and walked away as if nothing happened. The three days are our last shot. Had to take it.' He extended his glass toward Andreas.

  Andreas picked up his and again they clinked.

  More food arrived — taramosalata, tzatziki, salata horiatiki, kalamarakia, keftedes, dolmades, barbounia — and they jumped right on it. Neither spoke for a bit. Andreas seemed to have something else on his mind.

  'How well did you know my dad?'

  Tassos kept on eating and answered as if he'd been expecting the question. 'He was a respected man on the force when I joined. I knew him by reputation more than anything else, though I met him a few times.' He paused to take a sip of wine.

  'When was that?'

  Tassos stared at him. '1972.'

  Andreas nodded. Tassos just admitted to serving the dictatorship, but unlike Andreas' father, he'd survived Greece's return to democracy in 1974.

  Andreas smiled. 'I was still in diapers.'

  Tassos gave a dismissive wave. 'He was a tough cop in those days, no doubt about it. He did what had to be done to enforce the law. No fakelaki for him. That made him enemies.'

  Fakelaki, that simple Greek word for 'little envelope' had a secondary meaning burned into Andreas' memory.

  Tassos looked down at the table. 'Do you really want to be hearing this?'

  Andreas paused, as if wondering whether he did. 'It wasn't easy for him after 1974.'

  Tassos looked up and nodded. 'No, it wasn't. The new regime didn't want him — if you ask me, because he was honest.' He paused. 'Then he hooked up with that bastard-'

  Andreas put up his hand to stop him. 'No need to go there.' Andreas remembered the headlines, EX-SECRET POLICE CAPTAIN LEADS MASSIVE BRIBE OPERATION. 'I know all about it,' said Andreas.

  Silence.

  'My dad,' Andreas said slowly measuring his words, 'loved being a cop. When that… deputy minister gave him the chance a few years later to be one again, he jumped at it.' He let out a breath. 'He had no idea he was being set up. I think that's what devastated him more than anything else — that he didn't see it coming.' He picked up his glass and took a sip of wine.

  Tassos spoke softly. 'That deputy minister was a shrewd bastard.'

  This time Andreas didn't object. 'Sure was. Getting my father appointed head of his ministry's security detail made Dad loyal as a puppy. Never questioned all those fakelaki pickups and deliveries… that bastard had him make.' Andreas reached for his water glass. 'Told him they were "top-secret ministry documents." He'd deliver a demand for a bribe in one envelope and bring back the cash in another. When someone complained to the press about all the bribes involved in getting business from the ministry, he was fingered as the one demanding and getting the payoffs.'

  Andreas didn't say any more. No need to. Tassos already knew. Within a week of the story breaking, his father was dead. 'Accident while cleaning gun' was the official finding, but everyone knew that was so he could be buried in consecrated ground. Suicides weren't allowed that rite by the church.

  'You do know what happened to him,' said Tassos, 'the deputy minister?'

  Andreas looked at him. 'He was killed about a year later in an automobile accident.'

  Tassos stared straight into Andreas' eyes. 'It was on a mountain road in northern Greece. A blowout. His car went over the side. He was the only passenger.'

  Andreas kept his eyes on Tassos. 'I know.'

  'Remember when I said your father made a lot of enemies in his days on the force?'

  Andreas nodded.

  'He made a lot of friends, too. Friends who weren't happy with the way he was set up by that bastard, that dead bastard.'

  Andreas didn't blink. 'Yes, I've heard that, too.'

  Tassos looked away, and neither said another word on the subject. They ate in silence for a few moments.

  'I think you asked me, "Where do we go from here?" How about back to the night manager at Ilias' hotel?' said Andreas.

  'Why him?' Tassos was enjoying the food.

  'He's the one most willing to talk. Maybe he'll remember something.' Andreas reached for the bread. 'Can't hurt — as long as his asshole boss doesn't find out who snitched on him.'

  'I wouldn't worry about that,' said Tassos, taking a piece of bread from Andreas. 'Ilias probably can't find better or cheaper help. Besides, the worst he could do is get him deported to Albania. Even if that happened, he'd be back in Greece in no time.'

  'I guess you're right. And he'd be nuts trying to mess with the guy. He must know how tough the Albanians can be at protecting their own from legbreakers.'

  'Mmm,' Tassos agreed through a sip of wine. 'He knows. And without his cousin the mayor backing him up, Ilias is a bit of a coward.' He took another sip. 'You still think it's him?'

  'Don't know, but there's something about Father Paul that's not right.'

  'I'll ask a friend in London if they have a file on him.'

  'Good idea.' Andreas was into the octopus and salad.

  Tassos lifted his fork to his mouth. 'Any other suspects?'

  Andreas gave the upward head gesture for 'no' among Greeks. 'Not yet,' he said, then took a sip of water. 'I think I'll stop at the hotel after we're done. Where are you staying?'

  'Just outside of town, at the Rhenia Hotel. I'm catching the first morning boat to Syros.'

  Andreas pushed his plate forward. He was finished eating. 'I meant to tell you, your forensic guys did a great job.'

  'Thanks,' said Tassos.

  Andreas was sincere. Tassos' men had agreed to no suits, no sirens, no marked cars, and whirlwind stops at the churches. Andreas had left them with the body at Saint Fanourios while he went on to the last three on Father Paul's list. His first stop, at Saint Spyridon, yielded an empty crypt and hopes of no more bodies. Forensics caught up to him before he'd opened the crypt at Saint Marina's. There they found another decomposing body on another pile of bones. Andreas waited until Tassos arrived from Syros, and together they went to open the crypt at Saint Kiriake's. From the edge of that crypt Andreas called the mayor to come to his office for their meeting and Tassos called forensics to come for its fourth pile of bones and another body.

  'They're excited abo
ut this. It's the biggest challenge of their professional careers. I told them, if one word of this leaks out, they'd find whoever's responsible under a Syros church someday.'

  Andreas smiled. 'Do you think they'll keep quiet?'

  Tassos paused, his fork held midair, and stared at him. 'You think I'm kidding. They know better.'

  Perhaps they do, thought Andreas.

  Over coffee, Tassos said he'd get his men looking for every official and unofficial detail on Ilias — and the death of his father. He'd also call the mayor in the morning for everything he knew about his cousin.

  As they walked back to the car, Tassos put his arm across Andreas' back and rested his hand on his shoulder. It reminded Andreas of how his father used to walk with his friends in the evening through the square by their home in Athens. Both the memory and the arm were comforting. When they reached the car, Tassos refused a ride. He wanted 'to walk off the meal.' Andreas said something about the Balkans being pretty far away and Tassos gave him a less-than-pleasant one-finger gesture. They hugged good night and agreed to talk again at ten the next morning.

  As Andreas drove to the hotel he thought about the death of the deputy minister who'd set up his father. Over his years on the force, Andreas had reviewed and investigated — unofficially — every bit of information surrounding his father's death. He also knew his father had friends 'from the old days' — and some probably were responsible for getting Andreas into the police academy. As for whatever else they did — or might have done — out of loyalty to his dad, Andreas had no interest in finding out, from Tassos or anyone else. His only interest was in being a cop who would honor his father's memory. He always had been, and he hoped he always would be.

  Andreas pulled up to the hotel and got out of the car. Damn, he thought. I hope the night guy's in a cooperative mood. I've no time left to fuck around and make nice.

  10

  The lobby lights were dim and a muted TV was flickering with a rerun of a soccer game. The night manager was lying on the couch dozing. He jumped up when he heard someone and forced a smile through sleepy eyes. He didn't recognize Andreas at first, but when he did the smile disappeared.