She’d passed away a decade ago, and today her home was a bar run by a grandson. The crew visited that bar, followed by at least a dozen more, but no matter how much a venue might have changed over the years, Larry and Janet had a story to tell about it. They spoke of a more innocent era, when drugs, booze, and sex were casual accessories enjoyed by visitors rather than targeted profit centers of modern business plans.
Between their stories, Lila spent much of the evening huddled together with Toni and Janet, talking out of earshot of the men. The men did the same among themselves. It was the traditional Greek arrangement for mixed couples out for a night on the town.
Yianni had lost count of the number of places they’d been to, not to mention the amount of drinks consumed, when he remembered to ask Larry for the name of the guy with the big-time hotel chain connection tied into the Karavakis deal.
“Why do you want to know?” asked Larry.
“Chalk it up to natural cop curiosity.”
“That’s how I raised him,” said Andreas, lifting his beer and toasting, “Yamas.”
The three men clinked drinks then turned to the women to do the same.
Lila waved them off. “Not a chance, guys. As it is, I’m going to have to drive us home.”
“At least your drive home will be in daylight,” yawned Janet, “because unless my cataracts are back, I think that’s the sun struggling to come up over there.” She nodded east. “I hate to be a party pooper, but I’ve got to get some shut-eye.”
“Me, too, my love. Just let me get the bill,” said Larry. He looked at Yianni. “I don’t remember the guy’s name, but I have it marked down somewhere. I’ll call you with it tomorrow.” He paused. “I mean today.”
“Thanks,” said Yianni. “Now the two of you just head on home. I’ll take care of the bill.”
“No, I’ll get it,” said Andreas.
“No, you’re our guests,” said Larry.
“You men can stop battling over the check,” said Toni. “I can handle this one.” She smiled. “Besides, I know the owner. He won’t charge me.”
Larry laughed and patted Toni on the back. Janet leaned down to hug and kiss her goodbye. And everyone got into the act.
“Thanks for a great night,” waved Larry as they wobbled out the front door.
Toni smiled at the waiter. “Check, please.”
“There’s no check,” said the waiter.
“That can’t be,” said Toni. She looked at Yianni. “I’d lied about the owner. He counts every penny.”
“A lady at the bar paid it,” said the waiter.
Everyone’s head turned to look for her, but whoever she was, she had gone.
“She left right after paying. She told me to tell you it’s a thank-you for something you and he did for her.” He nodded at Yianni.
“Who was she?”
“Never saw her before. A tourist.”
“Did she say what we did for her?” asked Toni.
“It made no sense.”
“Just tell me what she said.”
He sighed and addressed Toni. “She said to thank you for being such a good rock-tosser.”
Yianni woke with his eyes tightly shut. He opened one eye and looked for the clock. It was gone. Someone must have stolen it. He shut his eyes, and remembered the clock was on the other side of the bed. He turned his head slowly, and paused while the pulsing in his temples slowed, before opening both eyes. Sure enough, the clock was where it should be, glowing twelve-fifteen p.m. in a highly accusatory manner.
Twelve-fifteen? He couldn’t believe he’d been asleep for six hours. His head felt as if it had rested for six minutes. Had he been slipped bomba? The counterfeit booze that plagued Greece’s tourist towns had gotten its name from the bomb that went off in your head when you drank it. No, he’d have known if he were drinking that garbage.
He stared at the bathroom door, contemplating how best to bring himself back to life from one of those wild island nights he’d years ago promised himself never to repeat.
He twisted himself up and around to sit on the edge of the bed closest to the bathroom as his mind calculated the number of steps to the shower. He felt sure he could make it. Twenty seconds later, he did, pausing only long enough midway to shed the clothes he’d slept in.
In his experience, cold water was an overrated method of shocking the system into sobriety. Nevertheless, he tried it. Five minutes into cringing through his icy water-dance routine, he heard his mobile ringing.
Dripping, he made it to the bedside table and grabbed the phone, more desperate to stop the ringing than caring who called.
“Yianni, are you awake?”
He only faintly recognized the voice. “Who’s this?”
“Larry, from yesterday, last night, and early this morning.”
“Oh, Larry. Sorry. Didn’t recognize you. A bad connection.”
“No problem. I thought I might be calling too early.”
“Not at all.” Yianni contorted his face, trying to bring himself closer to the edge of sobriety necessary to carry on a conversation. “Thanks again for everything. It was a great night. At least the parts I can remember.”
Larry laughed. “We enjoyed it too. Anyway, you asked me about that guy with the hotel connection to Karavakis.”
Yianni concentrated. “Did you find the name?”
“I’m honestly not sure.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Karavakis kept telling me that he had a rock-solid in with the hotel chain, but he refused to give me the name. He said it wasn’t relevant. I kept pressing him, saying it was very relevant. Finally, he blew up at me and shouted out a name, but only a first name.”
“So, you have it?”
“Well, I marked it down, but it’s not a Greek name. I figure he made it up just to shut me up.”
Yianni dropped onto the edge of the bed. He felt like going back to sleep. “Oh, well, thanks for trying.”
“Don’t you want to hear it?”
Damn. I’d better sober up fast. “Of course, I do.”
“Pepe.”
Yianni jerked himself back up onto his feet. “Did you say, Pepe?”
“Yes, P-E-P-E.”
“And that’s who Karavakis told you was his connection to the hotel chain?”
“Yes.”
“Thanks, Larry. Much appreciated.”
“Anything for a friend of Toni’s. She has only the best people for friends.”
“You and Janet are proof of that.”
“Thanks. I’ll let you go. We’re sailing off to Naxos this morning but hope to see you and Toni again soon.”
Yianni wished them safe travels, put down his phone, and stared at the bathroom door. He couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. It was the link they’d been looking for between the Colonel’s assassination and Karavakis’ hotel project.
Yianni wondered if Andreas’ hangover was as bad as his own. If, so Yianni now had a far more effective shock cure for chasing away the cobwebs than an ice-cold shower.
But first he had to get dressed.
Yianni found Andreas and Lila sitting in the family room watching cartoons on TV with Tassaki. “I never thought you guys were into this sort of television.”
“We’re not.” Lila smiled. “And we generally never let Tassaki watch them either. But this morning is special.”
“What my bride is trying to say, is we’re desperately trying to keep the kids calm and quiet while we recover from last night.”
“Amen,” said Lila, clutching her forehead. “And I thought I was the sober one.”
“You were,” said Yianni. He plopped down on the sofa next to Andreas and slapped him on the thigh. “Man, do I have some news for you, Chief.”
Andreas shut his eyes. “Do I have to hear it
now?”
Yianni smiled. “Nope.”
Andreas kept his eyes shut. Twenty seconds passed. “Okay, you win, tell me the news.”
“Larry called me with the name of the guy who was Karavakis’ connection to the hotel chain.” He paused. “Pepe.”
Andreas blinked his eyes open. “Pepe, as in that restaurant owner with the Colonel when he was murdered?”
“He didn’t have anything more than a first name, but how many Pepes could Karavakis know?”
“I think we should ask him.”
“Not until after breakfast,” said Lila. “I mean lunch.” She looked at her watch. “Oh, no. It’s after one. I’d promised Toni I’d meet her in town for coffee around noon.”
“Well, it still is ‘around noon,’” said Andreas.
“She’s American, not Greek.”
“But she’s lived here long enough to have adopted our ways.”
“A half-dozen years on this island, she told me,” said Lila.
“Ah,” said Yianni, “that explains why I never met her when the Chief and I were stationed here. She arrived after we left.”
Lila stared at Yianni. “You mean you didn’t know that about her?”
“I told you, she doesn’t like to talk about herself.”
“More likely, you didn’t ask. Men can be that way. Self-absorbed.” Andreas smiled.
“Are you trying to be a wise guy?” said Lila, staring at Andreas.
“Nope, just anticipating an appropriate response.”
“What else did she tell you about herself?” said Yianni. “I mean things you feel comfortable telling me.”
Lila smiled. “Very well put, Detective. Get me to share confidences I might otherwise be unwilling to broach.”
“It’s just that I know nothing about her past.”
Lila drew in and let out a breath. “Okay, here’s what I feel I can tell you without betraying a sister:
“Her father was a lawyer in New York City when she was born. A couple of years later he gave it up and went to work for the U.S. State Department, something he said he always wanted to do. She spent her post-New York City childhood bouncing with her mother and father from one foreign capital to another and attending an endless string of American schools for diplomats’ children. She said music was her only constant during those years, something her mother kept pressing her to study and perform.
“From what she told me, I’d say her mother was the free spirit in the family. She traced her roots back to the original settlers coming to America on the Mayflower and all that. But Toni said that whenever anyone asked about her origins, she always said, ‘My roots are firmly planted in the harshest lessons of British prisons and asylums.’”
“Sure sounds like Toni,” smiled Yianni.
“Sadly, her mother passed away a couple years ago. My guess is she takes more after her mother than her father, though he always told her she had a gift for solving problems that would make her a terrific lawyer.”
“How did she end up here?” asked Yianni.
“Straight out of high school she skipped college and took off on her own, bumming around Europe, dreaming of setting the world on fire with her music. A decade or so later, here she is, her roots now firmly planted in the island’s sand, tip jar on the piano.”
Andreas leaned in. “How can she possibly support herself year-round on tips she makes off summer tourists?”
“Spoken like a true cop,” said Lila. “Which is particularly apropos, considering what she calls her day job.”
“Day job?” said Yianni with a bit of anxiety in his voice.
“It relies on what she calls her ‘non-musical talents.’” Lila paused for dramatic effect. “I’d call them somewhat unique skills, though you two most likely would describe them differently. She helps folks with problems they can’t trust to the local authorities. Apparently, sometimes that means pursuing politically sensitive matters involving those same authorities, but most often people come to her because the official bureaucratic channels simply aren’t doing them any good.”
Andreas spoke up. “Just what sort of matters are you talking about?”
“She said that a significant portion of her work owed its existence to lowlifes burglarizing hotel rooms and vacation homes.”
“She’s a private detective?” said Andreas.
“I don’t think she’d call herself that. ‘Recovery expeditor of stolen goods,’ would seem more accurate. The police’s usual approach is to add a robbery victim’s name to a very long list, and by the time the authorities get around to investigating the claim, both the victim and the victim’s former property are long gone from the island.”
Yianni shrugged. “She’s got a point.”
“And a market. Which reminds me. As I said, I’m supposed to be meeting Toni for coffee.” She stood. “Excuse me, I’ve got to tell her I’ll be late.”
She called out to Tassaki, “Time for lunch.” She picked up the remote and turned off the television.
“Can I go with you to town to meet your friend?” said Tassaki.
“I thought he was watching television,” said Yianni.
“Five-year-olds are the original multitaskers,” said Lila, taking her son’s hand and walking out of the room.
After Lila had left the room, Andreas stared at Yianni. “Recovery expeditor, my ass. If your girlfriend gets Lila involved in her private cop/fixer bullshit…” He waved a hand in the air.
“Hey, don’t blame me. I’m as surprised as you are.”
“I know. Which doesn’t make me feel any better. Here we are, two experienced cops, who spent a considerable amount of time with a piano player living full-time on a part-time tourist island, and neither of us thought to ask how she supported herself during the rest of the year. I wonder if we’d have acted the same way if she were a he?”
“I know I wouldn’t have,” smiled Yianni.
“Sexist.” Andreas shot him the Greek open palm equivalent of the middle finger. “Right after lunch we’re going to pay a visit to Karavakis. I need to get back to thinking like a cop. Make that, we need to.”
Chapter Nine
As usual, Karavakis’ club was crowded, noisy, and pumping. The security guy at the entrance said he had no idea where Karavakis was, and to ask at the bar. Andreas and Yianni pressed their way through the usual sweaty mix of salt- and suntan lotion-coated dancers grinding away in bikinis, Speedos, and less. They’d made it to a miraculously open bar stool when a shirtless young man, all tan, fit, and smiling, popped up in front of them from behind the bar.
“Hi, Chief Inspector.”
It took Andreas an instant to recognize him. “Jason, what are you doing here?”
“Bartending, to make money while the sun shines. Like everyone else on the island.”
Jason was the son of one of the island’s most famous ex-pat beauties, and his father perhaps the greatest island athlete of his generation. Andreas and the father had played soccer together casually during Andreas’ stint on the island, and clearly the son had inherited the finer traits of his parents.
“My Lord, I haven’t seen you since you were this high.” He dropped his hand to the level of the bar. “Last I heard from your dad, you were playing football for a feeder team into the pros.”
Jason pulled two beers out of a cooler, opened them, and set them down on the bar in front of Andreas and Yianni. “The beer’s on me. I have to make it look like I’m actually working.”
“You didn’t answer my question.” Andreas took a sip from the bottle.
“This job pays a lot better. I’ll get back to football later.”
So, Jason had succumbed to the common curse of far too many island kids. They made so much money from tips in clubs in the summers that they put the rest of their lives on hold, often missing out on those ever-so-brief
ly-open windows of opportunity for a far more sustainable and financially rewarding career. But a lecture on the subject wouldn’t mean a thing to him. No more than it ever had to most kids Jason’s age.
“How’s your mother?”
“She’s great. Thanks for asking.” He reached out and extended his hand toward Yianni. “I guess I should introduce myself since you’re becoming a regular here.”
Yianni smiled as they shook hands. “I didn’t think anyone would notice, what with everything else going on in this place.” Yianni pointed toward the beach, where a man wearing nothing but an elephant-trunk-shaped sock over his genitals stood on a table shaking his hips to the delight of the crowd of bikini-clad young women surrounding him.
“To me it’s all background noise. I keep sane by focusing on new and interesting faces like yours. One day you’re in here to see the big boss, and the next day you show up with one of my favorite people on the island, Toni. Now that’s interesting.”
“I see you inherited your parents’ wit and charm,” said Andreas.
“Thank you,” said Jason. “I try.”
“By the way, where’s your boss?” said Andreas.
“If you mean old man Karavakis, he won’t be in until after midnight.”
“You mean you’re on your own with a cash register?”
“Not exactly.” He jerked his head in the direction of a basketball-court-sized restaurant next to the bar. “His son’s in there.”
Andreas peered into the restaurant at a table for twelve flanked by five males of about the same age and three pretty young girls. On the table were twin, jeroboam-size champagne buckets filled with Cristal, a fifth of vodka, assorted mixers, platters of lobster pasta, chateaubriand, and some sort of green.
“He’s the one with his back to the bar. He looks sort of like that North Korean leader, Kim something or other, but with longer hair.”
“Sounds like you don’t consider him one of your best buddies.”
“What’s there to say? He won the gene pool lottery.”
“You didn’t do so badly.”
“Thanks, but he hit the money part.”
The Mykonos Mob Page 11
