Devil of Delphi: A Chief Inspector Andreas Kaldis Mystery

by Jeffrey Siger

  Teacher put down the file. She had wondered whether to tell Kharon about it when he called, and decided not. She’d reconsidered for a moment, but again decided no. It would be a good learning experience for him.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Maggie and Kouros came bursting into Andreas’ office.

  “What the hell’s with you two? Is there a fire?”

  “We identified the shooter,” said Maggie.

  “Kharon?”

  “Yes, but only because of her.” Kouros bowed to Maggie. “If Maggie had made copies of the drawing of the killer instead of my doing it myself, we’d have known who he was the day of the murder.”

  Andreas looked at Maggie. “I’ll take that to mean I should have shown you the photographs Rolex emailed me.”

  Maggie shrugged. “What can I say? I can’t expect you two hotshots to show me every piece of paper that passes through this office.” She smiled. “But it wasn’t all that hard to figure out who he was.”

  “Yeah, sure,” said Kouros. “I spent a day plowing through mug shots, and days more showing cops the drawing and photos without getting so much as a guess at an ID. Maggie gets just a glimpse of the drawing on my desk and—bingo—she nails him.”

  Maggie fake punched Kouros in the shoulder. “And don’t forget the part about the drawing being upside down when I first saw it.”

  “When the two of you are done with the love-in part of your routine, would one of you mind telling me who our mystery killer is?”

  “The kid who killed two boys in that orphanage about a dozen years back,” said Maggie.

  Andreas’ face held a blank stare.

  “I can understand Yianni not recalling, he was a kid, but you must remember. It was in every magazine, every newspaper, on every television channel. The twelve-year-old who escaped conviction and a record because of his age.”

  Andreas began to nod. “Yes, it’s coming back. The papers vilified him. But how could you recognize him from the drawing? He was only a boy then.”

  “From the eyes. I’d looked at them a thousand times, wondering how a child could kill so brutally.”

  “He wasn’t exactly a child,” said Kouros.

  “Yes, he was,” snapped Maggie. “And what I saw in those eyes then, I saw in his eyes in the drawing.”

  “And what did you see?” said Andreas.

  “Something not from this earth.” Maggie crossed herself.

  “From heaven or hell?” said Andreas.

  “Not sure.”

  “But you’re sure it’s him?”

  “Positive,” said Kouros. “We ran his name through our national database and came up with a military service record and photo. It’s definitely him.”

  “Any arrest record?”

  “Clean as a whistle.”

  “What about his military history?”

  “Two years, no trouble, made it through advanced special forces training, but left after two years.”

  “Do you have an address for him?”

  Kouros smiled. “It’s Jacobi’s place in Exarchia.”

  “I guess we have our man. What’s his name?”

  “Fred Raucous.”

  “What kind of Greek name is that?”

  Maggie laughed. “Your education obviously did not include the source of all knowledge in Greece. The tabloids. Everything about him came out in those rags after the murders. He’d arrived at the orphanage an anonymous newborn. No father, no mother, no name. The nurse in charge of naming new admissions once lived in America and, being a big fan of the American dancer Fred Astaire, called him Fred. She told reporters that when she jokingly asked the baby ‘What should I name you that goes with Fred?’ he let out such a bloodcurdling scream she took it as a sign to use the Greek sounding English word meaning ‘a disturbing harsh or loud noise.’ Voila, Fred Raucous.”

  “I don’t know about his dancing, but he’s sure lived up to the bloodcurdling part,” said Andreas.

  Maggie rolled her eyes.

  “So, now what do we do?” said Kouros.

  “It doesn’t really change anything. We still have no solid evidence of his guilt, whether we call him Kharon or Fred.” Andreas shook his head. “But dropping his real name as the sister’s possible killer into the already massive media shit storm raging out there raises mind-blowing ramifications I can’t even begin to comprehend at this moment.”

  Andreas stood up and walked around his desk. “So, I think I’ll just sleep on it. And to do that I must first go home. Which is precisely what the two of you should do. You both did great work. Take the rest of the day off.”

  “It’s almost eight,” said Maggie.

  “At night,” added Kouros.

  “Well, it’s the thought that counts. See you tomorrow.”

  Andreas ignored the diverse collection of hand gestures that followed him out the door.

  ***

  The National Gardens served as a source of great pride to Athenians and, in summer, a respite from the intense heat. Cool evenings drew locals out in hordes, and for those who could afford it, dinner in the Garden’s chicest restaurant close by the nineteenth-century neoclassical Zappeion Megaron, a sunshine-yellow and white masterpiece, constructed as part of a plan for reviving the modern Olympic Games.

  Lila and Andreas lived only a few hundred yards away, just across the street from the Gardens, and like many of the restaurant’s regular customers, chose to sit outside. Their table offered a spectacular view of the Zappeion’s Corinthian portico, but much like museum guards surrounded by familiar treasures, most regulars would only have taken full notice of the sight if it vanished.

  “It’s a beautiful night to be eating at the Aigle,” said Lila, adjusting the light blanket over her son in his stroller.

  “It was a great idea you had to come here.” Andreas looked at his son’s sleeping face. “And to bring Tassaki with us.”

  “Why not? It’s the Greek way. Bring your kids along to sleep while you party. Besides, I’d promised Marietta the night off.”

  “Were the Gardens like this when you grew up?”

  “Pretty much so, though I haven’t checked recently to see if the flashers are still hanging out in the bushes.”

  “Flashers? You mean like the kind that, uh…” Andreas pointed at his groin.

  Lila nodded. “Yep, raincoats, and all.”

  “I never noticed them.”

  “I doubt you’re their type.”

  “I better start teaching Tassaki self-defense.”

  Lila smiled. “I’ve a better idea. Let’s teach him how to push a stroller. That way he can earn his keep for hanging out with us at night.”

  Andreas took Lila’s hand and kissed it. “Soon enough he’ll want to be alone. Figuring things out for himself.”

  “Darling, he’s only four.”

  Andreas turned and fixed his eyes in the direction of the Zappeion.

  “What’s on your mind?”

  Andreas shook his head and looked back at Lila. “Nothing.”

  She stared at him.

  “Well, just thinking about my father, and how differently things likely would have turned out had he lived.”

  “I think you turned out rather nicely.”

  Andreas smiled. “I’m not complaining. In fact, I’m feeling a bit guilty about my thoughts.”

  “How’s that?”

  “My father died when I was eight, and if he’d lived I’m sure he’d have tried to steer my life.”

  “He was a cop and you’re a cop. Where else would he have steered you?”

  “No, I mean in my personal life. He’d have wanted me to marry and have a family with someone known to our family.”

  “Leaving me out of the running for the spot.”

  Andreas nodded. “Precisely.
My mother tried before we met, but it’s not the same thing as when your father’s pressing you.”

  Lila smiled. “Are you complaining?”

  “Nope, just trying to remember to keep that in mind whenever I think I have all the answers for our kids.”

  “Meaning?”

  “The right person may not be from your own clan.”

  “I get it. It’s the person, not the packaging that matters.”

  “Yep,” said Andreas.

  “If I recall correctly, you most enjoyed the unwrapping.”

  Andreas reached down and squeezed her thigh with his hand. “Still do.”

  She pressed his hand. “Me too.”

  “I’ve changed. I know it.”

  “No you haven’t. You’re still the same lovable iconoclast I married.”

  “Yes I have.” Andreas smiled. “Just knowing what ‘iconoclast’ means proves it. All this is part of the life we lead.” He waved his arms around him. “Not in my wildest dreams did I ever think I’d be sitting in a place like this, exchanging nods and smiles with our country’s movers and shakers as if we’re old friends.”

  “We are.”

  “No, you are, but I’ve come to accept that I’m now part of it. It comes with the territory of being your husband.”

  “Okay, you met them because of me, but you’re liked because of what you are as a man.”

  “I’m not complaining. Just telling you all this has me thinking of my responsibilities as a father.” He paused. “A father has the bottom line duty of leading his children to appreciate a world without limits both in terms of what they can achieve in their careers and personal relationships, provided, of course, their choices are of good character.”

  “And that your children are raised to be of good character.”

  “For sure. Sitting all around us are examples of fathers and mothers with money and power who believe that entitles their children to do whatever they want to themselves and anyone else.”

  “Why do I sense you’re getting off the subject of our children?”

  “I see you’re wired into my thoughts.”

  “Yep, like all good wives.”

  “Scary.”

  “And don’t you forget it. So what’s on your mind?”

  “Just thinking about how Tank ended up like he did. And what part his father played in all of that.”

  “A lot,” said Lila. “The father is a white-collar political crook. Smart and self-important to an extreme. He let his children run their lives any way they wanted without regard to right or wrong, always bailing them out whenever they got in trouble. But the mother’s no prize either. She did little more than bear the children, leaving the rest to nursemaids and nannies while she spent most of her time in their Athens apartment playing around in Athens society. She and her husband haven’t lived together for years.”

  “Some parents.”

  Lila nodded. “Sort of like letting your dogs run wild on fenced-in property you control, thinking no harm can possibly come to them while they’re under your protection.”

  “Until one day little puppy Tank opened a gate and let the Teacher-wolf in.”

  “And?”

  Andreas shrugged. “No idea. Not a word on anything from anyone anywhere.”

  “Quiet as a graveyard, huh?”

  “I like that analogy a lot better than the one that’s been running through my mind.”

  “Which is?”

  “The calm before the storm.”

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Andreas had purposely left his police mobile at home while they were out for dinner. No way he’d allow some bureaucrat with a brilliant idea or a politician with a complaint that couldn’t wait until morning to wreck his first night out alone with his family in weeks. Besides, if anyone in his unit had to reach him they knew his personal mobile number.

  He forgot to check his police mobile when he got home, distracted first by busying himself putting Tassaki to bed, and later by enjoying himself putting Lila to bed.

  He lay next to his wife, breathing deeply.

  “Did I wear you out?” said Lila, turning on her side and running the finger nails of one hand down along his bare belly.

  “I’ll never tell.”

  She pinched his stomach. “You don’t have to.”

  “Hey, are you suggesting I’ve gained weight?”

  “Nope, just appreciating your love handles.”

  “That’s it, no more bread or wine for me.”

  “Or chocolate.”

  “Hey, let’s not go overboard.”

  “No, problem. In fact, I’m touched by your consideration. After all, how many husbands would be willing to share in a wife’s pregnancy by making sure his belly keeps up with hers?”

  Andreas frowned. “Okay, no chocolate.”

  “But pickles and nonfat yoghurt are okay.”

  “Enough, I got the point.” He jumped out of bed headed toward the bathroom, but stopped when he noticed the blinking message light on his police mobile. “Now what?” He picked it up off the top of the dresser and pressed a button to listen to his messages, pacing as he waited for them to play.

  “Are you trying to get me worked up again by prancing around the room like a naked Adonis? You’re not fooling me by making me think you’re concentrating on listening to—”

  Andreas held up his hand, then sat on Lila’s side of the bed and listened.

  “Andreas, it’s Ted. Okay, Rolex. Call me as soon as you get this message. Doesn’t matter what time and do it from a secure phone. I’ll be waiting for your call.”

  Andreas checked the time of Rolex’s call. Three hours ago. “Dammit. I’ve got to make a call from the phone in the study.”

  “One of your girlfriends?”

  “No, it’s two in the morning, they’re all asleep by now. They have school tomorrow.”

  “Ha, ha, ha.”

  He kissed her on her forehead, stood up, and walked toward the door.

  “Uh, darling, put something on please, just in case Marietta decides to come home tonight. We wouldn’t want to shock the poor woman.”

  “I doubt she’d be shocked.” He reached for his pants. “After all, she’s used to nude statues of Greek gods.”

  “Yes. But not of Buddha.”

  ***

  Andreas sat at Lila’s desk in her study and dialed Rolex’s number.

  “Hello,” answered a sleepy voice.

  “Ted, it’s Andreas. Sorry to call so late but I was out with the family.”

  “And you conveniently forgot your official phone. Yep, I’ve done that too.”

  “I really didn’t expect you to answer at this hour.”

  “No problem. I can’t sleep anyway,” said a yawning voice.

  “Is it the reason you called me?” Andreas fiddled with the desk lamp, trying to dim it.

  “I’m afraid I have to say yes. We’ve got a very serious situation.”

  “What’s up?” Andreas leaned back in the chair and looked off through the window behind him toward the lights on Likavitos.

  “There’s a heavy-duty player out there offering big money for someone to take out a very important person.”

  “Translation please.” Andreas stretched out his arms.

  “Bottom line?”

  “Yes,” said Andreas, suppressing a yawn.

  “It looks like Tank’s father is shopping for an assassin to take out Spiros.”

  Andreas bolted forward in the chair. “Our minister, Spiros?”

  “Yes.”

  “How the hell did you come up with that?”

  “The father went to somebody he used many years before for a similar purpose.”

  “Are you serious?” said a no longer drowsy Andreas.

&nb
sp; “I wish I weren’t,” coughed Rolex. “Do you recall about fifteen years ago a well-known politician was murdered? He’d been crusading against Tank’s father. We all knew who was behind it and even caught the killer, but the killer wouldn’t talk. Instead, he chose a very long prison sentence.”

  “I remember the case. But didn’t he get out?”

  “Yes, he served only three years before his friends in government arranged for his release. And they repaid him for his service with a license to open a club. Today it’s one of the most successful in Athens.”

  Andreas thought to curse the corrupt bastards, but he’d be preaching to the choir in Rolex. “How’d you find out about their happy reunion?”

  “The club guy came to see me.”

  “You gotta be kidding me.”

  “Nope. He’d gotten older and richer. He likes his new life and doesn’t want to revisit his younger years. At least that’s what he said he told Tank’s father. But the old man wouldn’t take no for an answer. Said he’d destroy the guy and his business if he didn’t do what Tank’s father wanted him to do.”

  “So Club Guy decided to come to you?”

  “He knew me from his other case. Said he could ‘trust me.’”

  Andreas rubbed at his forehead. “I see he’s gotten wiser too.”

  “Tank’s father made a big mistake in pushing him. He’s lucky the guy didn’t take him out on the spot. He still has that killer instinct, just no longer for hire.”

  “What did Club Guy have to say that made you think Spiros is the target?”

  “He said Tank’s father is very angry, very tense. He’d never seen him that crazed. The father kept ranting on about someone threatening to destroy his whole family, and how he’d ‘kill the bastard’ before he’d let that happen.”

  “Did he name ‘the bastard’?”

  “No, just described him as someone arrogant enough to believe he was untouchable because of his position.”

  “Untouchable because of his position?” Andreas picked up a pencil and began tapping the eraser end on the desktop.

  “That’s what Club Guy said. The father offered no name or title. He told him he didn’t have to know any of that, because the father would arrange for the target to be in a certain place at a certain time and all Club Guy had to do was kill him.”