Murder in Mykonos

by Jeffrey Siger

  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 – taramosaláta, tzatziki, salata horiátiki, kalamárakia, keftédes, dolmades, barboúnia – 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 about 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 A
ndreas 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.

  ‘Mr Ilias not here.’ He was nervous.

  ‘I’m not here to see him. I’m here to see you.’ Now the man was very nervous. ‘Where can we talk?’ Andreas’ voice was crisply official.

  The man showed him to the office by the reception counter.

  ‘I have a few questions for you,’ Andreas said.

  ‘I told you everything,’ the man said, his body shaking.

  Time to make him shake more, thought Andreas as he shook his head and said, ‘I don’t think so.’

  Andreas made him repeat everything he could remember about Helen Vandrew. Nothing new. Andreas raised his voice a few notches. ‘Okay, now tell me anybody else you can think of who might know something about her. Anybody you saw talk to her, anybody you saw with her, anybody you saw near her!’ His voice had risen until he was yelling.

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Think, damn it! Did you ever see her with anyone?’

  ‘No, like I said, never.’ The man looked hysterical with fear.

  Andreas softened his voice a bit. ‘Look, she was pretty and alone here for two days. Someone must have tried to talk to her. At breakfast or when she was going out.’

  ‘Honest, there no one. She never come to breakfast. She never come back second night, and first night she go out of taxi alone.’

  Andreas heard a new word.

  ‘Taxi? You never said anything about a taxi.’

  ‘It just Manny. He bring her in morning.’

  Now Andreas was yelling for real. He grabbed the man by the shirt. ‘Listen, you bastard, I told you I wanted the names of everyone you ever saw with her. Even Jesus Christ himself! If I even think you’re holding back or covering for someone, I’ll find so many ways to keep your ass in prison the only way you’ll ever get out is in a coffin! Understand? Now tell me everyone!’

  The man was probably frightened enough to wet his pants. He was in tears. ‘I no think you mean taxi drivers. Sorry, sorry, sorry. There no one else, no one. On my mother’s grave no one else.’

  Andreas kept scaring the life out of him for another fifteen minutes until he was certain the man was telling the truth. All that work for the name of one lousy taxi driver.

  Annika wasn’t quite sure why she agreed to leave the piano bar with him to get something to eat, but he knew everybody there, was interesting, and behaved like a gentleman. It seemed harmless enough – and it wasn’t as if he were a total stranger. He suggested a place out of town, a local Italian restaurant on the road to Kalifati Beach, southeast of Ano Mera. She’d been there before and liked it but didn’t tell him; after all, she wasn’t supposed to know the island.

  The place was full when they arrived, as if no one knew or cared how late it was. He acted shyer than she expected, often pausing thoughtfully before speaking. In academic circles, taking such time to collect your thoughts was known complimentarily as taking a ‘Harvard pause’ – though Yale kibitzers said it meant waiting for the voices inside your head to tell you what to say next.

  They sat outside, just off the beach, at a shaky wooden table barely covered by a plastic, blue-and-white checkered tablecloth. The ground was hard-packed and sandy, but the nearby fig trees and geraniums seemed to like it. So did the mosquitoes. The owner brought Annika some repellent and a wrap for her shoulders – the night air was a bit nippy for beach wear. She wasn’t dressed or in the mood for a romantic dinner, which made this all the more perfect a choice. The only thing romantic about this place was a funnel of rippling silver moonlight coming at them across the sea between two matching hills locals called ‘the breasts of Aphrodite.’

  They ordered pizza and chilled red wine. It was great, and reminded her of a late-night food-run in college.

  ‘How do you like the place?’

  ‘I love it.’ She took a bite of pizza.

  ‘I thought you would.’ He sipped his wine. ‘It’s more relaxed than most places in town. Seems more real to me than there.’ He gestured toward town.

  She nodded in agreement as she picked up her wine-glass. ‘Absolutely. It’s crazy back there.’

  ‘Bet you can’t wait to leave.’ His voice was calm, matter-of-fact.

  ‘Oh, I like Mykonos. Just have to find the right crowd to share it with.’ She sipped her wine.

  ‘No luck yet?’ He put down his glass.

  She nodded again. ‘For sure on that score.’ She put down her glass and excused herself to go to the bathroom.

  When she returned a chocolate soufflé was on the table.

  ‘Surprise. I thought you could use a pick-me-up and the chef has a secret recipe for the absolutely best deep-dark chocolate soufflé in all of Greece.’

  ‘Wow, I never knew that.’ That was true, but she didn’t mean it to sound as if she’d been here before, so she quickly added, ‘Greece really has soufflés?’

  He looked at her, paused, and smiled. ‘Yes, Greece has soufflés.’

  It was delicious. They finished it and their wine. He went to pay the check and returned with two sfinakis on a silver tray. He handed one to her.

  ‘A Mykonos tradition. Yamas.’ He lifted the other glass to clink with hers.

  She smiled and decided not to dump the drink. She was headed straight back to her hotel for the night; this would be her very last one. ‘Yamas.’

  Clink.

  All Andreas wanted to do when he left the hotel was head straight home to bed, but he called the taxi dispatcher instead. She said Manny wasn’t due to start his night shift for another half hour but as soon as he signed in she’d tell him to meet Andreas at the police station. Not even enough time for a quick nap, he thought.

  Annika didn’t realize how tired she was until they were in the car headed back to her hotel. The music on the CD player was soothing, and he wasn’t forcing her to talk. She tried to stay awake but was too exhausted. She leaned her head back against the seat and shut her eyes. Only for a moment, she thought. Only for a moment.

  Andreas was downstairs by the front door talking to Kouros when a silver Mercedes taxi slid into the lot. There was space by the front door, but the driver parked away from the building, beyond the reach of its floodlights. He looked like most Mykonos taxi drivers – dark hair, swarthy complexion, light-colored short-sleeved shirt, dark slacks, and dress shoes. They tended to take themselves seriously.

  Andreas assumed this was Manny. Their file on his taxi license listed him as forty-five, and he looked about that age. The driver walked over to them and asked if the chief was in. ‘I was told to meet him here.’

  ‘Hi. Andreas Kaldis.’ He extended his hand. ‘Thanks for coming over.’ Andreas noticed that for a man of average height and weight, his forearms were massive.

  ‘No problem.’ They shook hands. Despite his obvious strength, Manny’s handshake was exceptionally weak.

  Andreas took him up to his office and closed the door. The man appeared calm, not concerned in the least as to why
the chief of police had summoned him at one in the morning.

  ‘Any idea why I asked you here this late?’ Andreas began.

  ‘No, sir.’ He answered like someone used to talking to police. He’s probably had his share of run-ins over tourist complaints, Andreas thought. Andreas gestured for Manny to sit in front of his desk, then walked around to its other side and picked up a photograph of Helen Vandrew. ‘Ever see her before?’

  Manny looked at it carefully. ‘I think it’s the same one another officer showed me,’ he said, and handed it back to Andreas.

  Clever answer. ‘I meant while she was alive.’ No need to hide the fact that she was dead – everyone knew.

  ‘Not that I can recall.’

  Another clever answer. ‘I don’t know how to tell you this, Manny, but you’re one of the last people to see her alive.’

  Manny twitched but kept his composure. ‘Why do you say that?’

  ‘Because,’ Andreas said, speaking slowly and deliberately, ‘I have a witness putting her in your taxi.’ He paused for a few seconds and continued with a shrug. ‘If you want a lot of cops asking a lot of people a lot of questions tying you in to a murder investigation, just keep answering like you think I’m a fucking idiot.’

  Manny sat silently.

  ‘Why don’t I start with a call to your dispatcher asking for your location around sunrise on June third?’

  Andreas could tell he’d surprised him, but still Manny said nothing. It was the savvy way to behave around questioning cops. Time to turn up the heat. ‘Okay, if that’s the way you want to play it, let me tell you how it’s going down on my end. You’ll make me waste my time checking out my witness’ story, and if it checks out, I’ll make your life on this island a living hell. My men will stop you a dozen times a day. There won’t be a U-turn you’ll get away with, and heaven help you if a tourist ever makes a complaint against you. My purpose in life will be to yank your taxi license the very first chance I get. So, either talk or get out of here so I can stop busting my balls and start busting yours.’ He put the photograph back on his desk and stared at Manny.