Murder in Mykonos

by Jeffrey Siger

  Panos’ farm used stone walls and close-packed, tall bamboo windbreaks to protect his crops. The thick bamboo plantings ran uninterrupted inside a low wall along the north side of the path, perfect for screening out wind – and the curious. Andreas didn’t see a structure until the windbreak ended and the wall turned north. Then he saw two.

  He parked by the closer one, next to a rough, unpainted wooden gate at a break in the wall. It was a one-room shed made of the same sort of stone as the wall; both looked centuries old. Equipment was strewn everywhere. Andreas couldn’t tell what was being used and what had been left to rot.

  He stood by his car for a moment and listened. He heard no human sound but sensed someone was around. A light brown van sat parked about forty yards away, up by the other structure. Whatever it was, it was made of the same sort of stone as everything else on the property and built into the hillside like a mine entrance. Andreas walked to the shed and looked inside. It was a mess: hoes, rakes, shovels, pots, hoses, cement, gasoline, seed, fertilizer, wire, rat poison, rope, twine, batteries. Everything you’d expect to find on a farm – or with our serial killer, Andreas thought. Only thing missing was cough syrup for the crystal meth.

  As if on cue, he heard a loud cough followed by a shout. ‘Can I help you?’ It was Panos. He was standing at the entrance to the other structure holding something in his right hand.

  Andreas was not in uniform – he rarely was – and could tell the man didn’t recognize him even though they’d met once in his restaurant. Andreas gave a friendly wave and started toward him. ‘Hi, Panos, Andreas Kaldis.’ Still no sign of recognition. ‘Police chief.’

  That got an immediate response. Panos gave his biggest restaurateur smile and hurried down to meet him.

  ‘Hello, Chief, nice seeing you again.’ It was a water bottle Panos held, and he switched it to his left hand and reached out with his right hand to shake with Andreas. Andreas noticed only a bit of water remained in the bottle. ‘How can I help you?’ Panos seemed nervous.

  ‘Nice place you have here.’ Andreas fanned his head from left to right.

  ‘Thanks. Been in my family for generations.’

  ‘What do you grow?’ Andreas wanted to see if Panos would raise the subject of Helen Vandrew. By now, one of his friends must have told him the police knew she’d been in his bar.

  ‘Zucchini, tomatoes, eggplant, onions, purslane . . .’ As Panos recited the list his voice became calmer.

  ‘You must have a lot of help,’ Andreas said.

  ‘No, just me. I like doing the work myself.’ He shifted the bottle back and forth between his hands.

  ‘Then you must spend a lot of time here,’ Andreas said matter-of-factly.

  Panos seemed unsure how to respond. ‘Only what I have to.’ He paused. ‘That’s why the place is such a mess. I spend all my time working my crops and none cleaning up.’ He seemed to like his answer.

  Andreas switched to a sharp, prosecutorial tone. ‘And just what sort of crops do you work in there?’ He gestured with his head toward the stone entrance at the hillside.

  ‘Where?’ Clearly he was stalling.

  Andreas put his right hand on Panos’ left shoulder and slowly but firmly spun him toward the hill. With his left hand he pointed. ‘There.’

  Panos answered nervously, ‘Mushrooms. I grow mushrooms there. It’s an old mine. Perfect for mushrooms.’

  ‘What’s a mine doing over here? I thought they were over there.’ Andreas pointed past the mine entrance to the northeast.

  Panos waved his arm toward Fokos and back toward Ano Mera. ‘This whole area’s filled with mines, from the sea just east of Fokos all the way to Ano Mera. Miles and miles of tunnels.’

  That surprised Andreas. He dropped his arm from Panos’ shoulder. ‘But why an entrance here?’

  Panos spoke quickly. ‘They never mined here. I think it was for emergencies, maybe just ventilation. I don’t know. They’re all over the hills. Some bigger, some smaller, some just holes in the ground. My grandfather built this.’ He pointed at the stone entrance. ‘To hide the hole. He didn’t like the way it looked.’

  Andreas reached back and patted Panos on the shoulder. ‘Always wondered what an old mine looked like. Mind if I take a peek inside?’ From the way Panos started breathing, Andreas thought he’d die at the question.

  ‘I was just heading back to town, but if you’d like to come out tomorrow, I’d be happy to show you around.’

  ‘Do you mind if I take a look around on my own?’ Andreas left no doubt it was not really a question but a command.

  ‘It’s really not safe to go in there alone.’ Panos’ voice was desperate.

  Andreas took off his sunglasses and stared at him. ‘Don’t worry, I can take care of myself.’ He started toward the entrance.

  Panos touched his arm to stop him. ‘So, why did you come out to see me?’

  Andreas just smiled and put on his sunglasses.

  Panos stared at his feet. ‘It’s about the girl, isn’t it?’

  Andreas said nothing, just continued to smile.

  ‘Yes, I knew her. I said I didn’t to your man because I didn’t want to get involved. You know how it is.’ He gave a nervous grin, as if talking to a friend.

  Andreas had stopped smiling now and returned a cold stare. ‘No, I don’t.’ He paused for a few seconds before pointing his finger dead center at Panos’ chest. ‘Now tell me everything you know, everything you think, everything you guess about that woman.’

  Panos started to object, but Andreas pressed his finger into the man’s chest. ‘I don’t want your bullshit. Just tell me what I want to know or get a lawyer to get your ass out of jail.’

  Panos looked down and glanced toward the mine entrance. He let out a deep breath, lifted his head, and started talking. He told what he swore was everything he could remember about the evening they met and everyone who spoke to her. He swore that was the only time he saw her and that he had no idea what happened to her. He swore to a lot of things but the only thing Andreas hadn’t heard before was that she’d spoken to an American artist at the bar. Andreas asked what Panos knew about him.

  ‘Tom’s a famous artist. He’s in his early sixties and been coming here two, three months every summer since the seventies. Nice guy, but acts like he’s everyone’s conscience.’

  ‘What’s that mean?’

  Panos hesitated. ‘He doesn’t like the way we treat women, says we show them no respect.’

  Now, there’s an understatement, thought Andreas. ‘Anything else?’

  ‘No, but one of his paintings hangs in my bar, if you want to see it. Why don’t you come by tonight? We’ll have dinner. On me.’ Panos was trying to make friends again.

  ‘No, thanks. But why don’t you run along. I’ll see if there’s anything else for us to talk about after I’ve had a look inside the mine.’ The color drained from Panos’ face. ‘You don’t look too good – better take a drink.’ He pointed to the bottle in Panos’ hand. ‘I’m going to get one myself,’ he said, and headed back to his car.

  When he got there he saw Panos hadn’t moved. He looked frozen in place. Andreas was pretty sure he knew why. It all added up. The mine, the almost-empty water bottle meant just one thing to him: inside the mine was a lot more than mushrooms, and whatever was in that bottle wasn’t just water. He picked up the phone to call for backup. Andreas wasn’t a fool. There was no telling who else might be inside the mine or what Panos might try when faced with heavy prison time for whatever drugs he was cooking up in there.

  As soon as Andreas reached the station, he was told Kouros must speak to him immediately. Andreas started to say he had no time, but his call already was on hold. As he waited for Kouros to pick up he watched Panos walk toward the van. He looked like a condemned man.

  ‘Chief, I’ve been trying to reach you for half an hour.’ Kouros sounded anxious.

  ‘I was out of the car. Next time try my cell phone. What’s got you so excited?’
/>   ‘The ministry called, the deputy minister wants you to call him immediately. He said it’s of the “utmost importance.”’

  Andreas’ heart jumped to his throat. ‘Which ministry?’ He held his breath as if in prayer.

  ‘Ours.’

  So much for prayer. He and Tassos were dead meat. He wondered if Tassos knew yet. He needed time to think and wanted to talk to Tassos before calling the deputy minister. He watched Panos empty the water bottle onto the ground and get into the van. You lucky bastard, he thought. ‘Okay, I’ll be right in.’ Andreas had no choice but to go. He had bigger things to worry about at the moment. Like his career.

  Andreas thought of telling Kouros to send someone here to keep everyone out of the mine until it was checked out – probably by a new chief from the way things looked – but he guessed Panos had other ways of getting into the mine and getting rid of whatever he was hiding. He smacked the steering wheel hard with the heels of his hands and cursed aloud as he watched Panos drive away. ‘Why do motherfuckers like him have all the luck?’

  Andreas drove slowly back toward headquarters. No need to hurry to his own execution. Besides, Tassos was busy on another phone call and Andreas wasn’t going to call the ministry until after they spoke. At the crest of a hill overlooking Ftelia Beach and the foot of Panormos Bay, Andreas pulled off the road and waited for Tassos to call back. Far below, windsurfers slid gracefully back and forth across the bay. Their work seemed effortless from this distance; not at all like the instant-to-instant reality of their up close battle to stay afloat in relentless winds and driving seas.

  His cell phone rang. It was Tassos.

  ‘Sorry, I was on the phone with my friend at New Scotland Yard. Have some news for you on your priest.’ Tassos sounded excited. Obviously, he hadn’t heard from the ministry. ‘Father Paul won’t be up for sainthood anytime soon.’

  Andreas decided to hear him out before dropping the bomb. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘His story was he’d been “called” to the priesthood after his sister died in an accident. About ten years ago he left the priesthood – actually was forced out. It involved young girls in his parish.’

  ‘I knew there was something dirty about him,’ Andreas said in a detached way.

  ‘Nothing was proven. His family had a lot of money, and – with the church’s help – they paid off the kids’ families and kept everything out of the papers. He quietly resigned and moved to a different part of England – probably to prey on someone else’s kids.’ There was anger in Tassos’ voice.

  ‘Damn,’ Andreas said without emotion.

  Tassos paused. ‘That’s not the end of it. A few years later the parish church he’d been forced to leave burned to the ground. Arson, but couldn’t tie it to anyone.’

  ‘Just what we need. Another prime suspect with serial-killer characteristics.’ Andreas was trying to sound interested. ‘Anything else?’

  Tassos didn’t answer right away. ‘We’ve identified two more of the victims, both Dutch. Still no Greeks. I think our killer’s careful to stick to tourists.’

  Silence.

  ‘Andreas, is something bothering you? You don’t seem right.’

  Andreas shook his head and let out a breath. ‘Do you have that letter from the mayor?’

  ‘What are you getting at?’

  ‘I have a message from the office of the deputy minister for Public Order for me to call him ASAP.’

  Pause. ‘Shit,’ said Tassos.

  ‘That’s one of the words that went through my mind. I take it you didn’t get a call.’

  ‘Me? What do I have to do with this? It’s all a Mykonos problem.’ Tassos forced a laugh.

  ‘I admire your sense of humor.’

  Tassos sighed. ‘I don’t like crying so close to the end of my career.’

  ‘I wonder how he found out.’

  ‘I think we’ve been kidding ourselves thinking we could keep this quiet. Who knows, that asshole mayor might have burned us for some bullshit political reason. And, yes, I have the letter.’ Tassos was sounding more defiant, and it was helping to pick up Andreas’ spirits.

  ‘Maybe it’s about something else?’ Andreas sounded hopeful.

  ‘When’s the last time you got a call from a ministry-level member of government?’ Tassos didn’t wait for an answer. ‘Let’s just figure out what we’re going to tell him and . . . and . . .’

  ‘I think the word is duck.’ Andreas paused. ‘But even if he’s calling about something else, it’s time to tell him. There’s too much for us to run down on our own. We need help before someone else gets killed.’ He waited for Tassos to say something. After all, informing Athens would end more than just Andreas’ career as a cop.

  Tassos spoke softly. ‘I’m not going to try to talk you out of it. If you think it’s time, fine. The hell with our deal with the mayor – he’s probably the one who told the deputy minister anyway.’

  Andreas let out a deep breath. ‘How do you think I should I handle it?’

  They talked for a while and agreed he’d tell the deputy minister everything in the most politic way possible – then duck.

  Annika was cold. That was the first thing she noticed. Her head was aching, but she didn’t notice until she tried sitting up. She was on a floor on what felt like a chaise longue mattress. The room was completely dark – at least she thought it was a room. She pushed out with her hands to feel in front of her face. She touched nothing. Then she felt out around her as far as her arms could reach. Again nothing. She realized why she was cold: she was naked.

  Her chest was pounding and her breathing was running away from her; she knew that meant panic. ‘No!!’ she yelled to herself. I’m still alive, no matter what this is. I’m still alive, she kept thinking over and over again. She thought of her mother and her father. They’d find her. She just knew they would. She fell back down on the mattress, curled up into a ball, and started crying quietly.

  He stood still as a granite wall, sharing nakedness with her in the dark. But only he could see. The night-vision goggles added a green cast to her body but did nothing to conceal her beauty from him.

  This was his favorite moment: the instant of a tribute’s first tears, when she realized she was no longer free. The drug had worked again; it always did, bringing on panic at no memory of how she’d fallen from paradise to here. He carefully moved his right hand to where he could touch himself and quietly began pulling – gently at first, until her crying ended and she finally slept – then fiercely, to the point of pain and beyond, until finally he came.

  At last he felt the chill of the room again. It was always this way with a new one; just the thought of her fear drove him to fever. For now, this moment of relief was enough. Later, he’d need much more.

  He stared at her for a bit longer. Reluctantly he turned to leave. There were other things to do.

  ‘Good morning, Deputy Minister Renatis’ office.’

  ‘Uh, good morning, this is Andreas Kaldis, chief of police on Mykonos. I’m returning the minister’s call.’

  ‘Oh, yes, Chief, the minister asked that I give you a message. He had to leave for a cabinet meeting.’

  I guess I’m not even worth firing personally, Andreas thought. He’s going to have his secretary do it.

  ‘He’s spoken with the mayor . . .’

  So, he is the one, that miserable two-faced bastard, thought Andreas.

  ‘. . . and understands you’re in the middle of a murder investigation.’

  Andreas felt he should jump in before she reached the punch line. ‘Yes, but I think if the minister understood the circumstances—’

  She cut him off curtly. ‘Chief, I’m reading the minister’s message. Please let me finish, and then I will take down whatever it is you want me to tell him.’ Obviously, she was experienced at keeping the condemned at bay. He was about to be drawn and quartered without getting a chance to speak. ‘As I was saying, he understands you’re in the middle of a murder invest
igation, but this matter really can’t wait.’

  Andreas held his breath.

  ‘His sister is worried about her daughter, the minister’s niece. She’s on Mykonos and he’d like you to find her to tell her to call home.’

  At first Andreas thought she was talking to someone else on her end of the line.

  ‘It’s only been a couple of days since she’s been heard from, but the minister’s sister is anxious. We know where she’s staying, so it shouldn’t be too much of an inconvenience for you to find her right away.’ Her words were courteous but her tone made clear he had no choice but to act immediately.

  She was the sort of condescending bureaucrat who angered Andreas – but not this time. ‘Sure, no problem. Glad to help out. Can you give me the details?’ He reached for a pen and wrote the deputy minister’s name across the pad of paper on his desk.

  For a secretary used to aggravating people, the tone of relief in Andreas’ voice must have had her wondering whether she’d lost her imperious touch because she paused for an instant before responding. ‘She’s twenty-two years old, five feet eleven inches tall, blond hair, blue eyes . . .’

  Andreas’ heart skipped two beats. Thank God she’s Greek, he thought.

  ‘Her name is Annika Vanden Haag—’

  ‘But she’s Greek?!’ he said, practically screaming the words.

  His interruption clearly surprised the secretary. ‘Uh, yes, Chief, her mother’s Greek but her father’s Dutch. They live in the Netherlands.’

  Andreas thought he’d throw up. He didn’t hear her next few words, and when he tuned back in it was to ‘She’s staying at the Hotel Adlantis.’

  Andreas had never fainted in his life and wasn’t about to now, but he suddenly felt that he knew just what it would feel like.

  The next thing he heard was the secretary practically shouting, ‘Chief, Chief, are you still there?’

  ‘Yes . . . yes, thank you.’

  ‘Do you need any more information?’

  He paused; his mind was jumping among a thousand thoughts and settling on none. ‘Uh, yes. Could you fax me her photo and her passport and address information?’