A Deadly Twist

by Jeffrey Siger

  They looked inside.

  “What the hell is this?” said Andreas, holding the light.

  “It should be filled with frames that hold the honeycombs. Instead we’ve got a different kind of honey.” Tassos reached in and pulled out a piece of ceramic.

  “A potsherd.” He reached in again and pulled out another piece. He held them both up to the light. “They look to be from the same urn.” He took the light from Andreas and stared into the hive. “From my onetime experience in this business, I’d say that this hive contains all the pieces of at least one very old urn.” He carefully put the pieces back in the hive and replaced the sections.

  Tassos aimed the light at the rows of hives. “If all those hives are stocked like this one, I’d say we’ve hit upon a serious antiquities-smuggling operation.”

  “How would that tie into Honeyman arranging for a hit on Yianni and Popi?”

  “It may not.”

  “Another coincidence?” said Andreas.

  “I’m just as suspicious as you are of coincidences, but it’s a possibility. After all, I haven’t seen or heard anything that ties the reporter, Yianni, or Popi to antiquities smuggling. Have you?”

  “No.” Andreas waved his hand at the hives. “But here we’ve got this honey seller sitting atop a fortune in illegal antiquities, organizing a frantically ill-conceived hit on two cops looking to find a missing newspaper reporter writing a story about tourism versus preservation. It makes no sense.”

  “Maybe Honeyman is more than just a honey seller. Perhaps he’s a really bad guy.” Tassos paused. “Possibly even Nikoletta’s mysterious guy?”

  “Wouldn’t that be a fateful twist?”

  “Is a fateful twist any different than a coincidence?”

  “Let’s go back inside and talk to the kid some more. Then I’ll answer your question.”

  “I’ll meet you later. I want to check out that shepherd’s hut.”

  “For what?”

  “Who knows what other wild coincidence or fateful twist might be lurking in the shadows?”

  “Good point,” said Andreas, turning back toward the house.

  Who knows, indeed?

  * * *

  Their efforts at getting the boy to talk began with wading through the boy’s defensive barrage of “I don’t knows” and “I haven’t spoken to my father in two days.” Once the boy admitted that his father had never left him alone this long before, it didn’t take much to convince him his father might be in serious trouble, and by keeping quiet he wasn’t helping him.

  The boy knew all about the beehives but swore nothing in them was his family’s. His father had told him he ran the beehives as a hotel for other people’s property—he called the items guests—and also provided transfer services for guests requiring a pickup from or delivery to a plane, boat, or other place on the island. He’d transport the guests hidden beneath a tarp in the back of his truck. Sometimes the boy helped his father transfer guests from the truck into the hives. At other times he’d help move guests out of the hives, either back to his father’s truck or into a stranger’s vehicle, but no matter what, his father would smile and say, “Sure beats beekeeping.”

  The more the boy talked, the more noticeably anxious he became for his father.

  “When’s your mother coming back from Athens?” asked Andreas.

  “I don’t know. When she left she said next week.”

  “Does she know you’re alone here?”

  “No, I didn’t want her to worry.”

  Andreas nodded. “Is there anyone you can stay with until she’s back?”

  “My aunt.”

  Andreas looked at his watch. “It’s about a half hour before dawn. We’ll call her after sunrise.”

  “You’ve been most helpful,” said Tassos. “I have just one more question.”

  The boy tensed.

  “How did you know which guests went in which hive? And which guests belonged to the strangers who came to collect them?”

  The boy pointed at a loose-leaf notebook on a shelf behind the kitchen table. “It’s all in there.”

  Tassos pulled it off the shelf, opened it, and spent a minute quickly looking through it. He smiled. “It sure is. Thanks, son, you can go back to bed now.”

  The boy hurried out of the room.

  “What’s in the notebook?” asked Dimitri.

  “Separate ledger pages for each hive, recording guests, dates of check-in and checkout, and initials, which I suspect represent who was paying rent on the particular hive.”

  “Any way to put a name to the initials?” said Andreas.

  “Not as far as I can tell.”

  “Maybe we’ll find a key somewhere else in this mess?” said Dimitri.

  “I’d like to think so,” said Tassos, “but the truth is there’s only a half dozen or so sets of initials, so he probably doesn’t need to keep a list in order to know the names that go with them.”

  “I guess we’ll just have to find Honeyman and sweat him.” Andreas looked at Dimitri. “But until then, and until the Ministry of Culture gets its people here to catalog and take custody of all this, you better keep some cops here. It would be a real embarrassment if any of what we found disappeared while in the hands of the police.” He spread out his arms, stretched, and yawned. “Make that a career-ending embarrassment for everyone involved.”

  “It’s going to be a busy day,” said Dimitri. “And you’ve got that meeting at 15:00.”

  Andreas nodded. “Plus Yianni’s checking out of the hospital this morning.”

  “Don’t worry about picking him up. I’ve arranged for an ambulance to take him to your house.”

  “That’s very kind of you.”

  “It’s the least I could do for you after all you’ve done for me.”

  “What have we done for you?” asked Andreas.

  “I agree that losing any of these artifacts would be a surefire career-ender. But on the other hand, finding them should put us all in line for serious promotions.”

  “I don’t want one,” said Andreas.

  “Me either,” said Tassos. “But I’ll tell you what. If you take responsibility for protecting all this stuff and coordinating things with the Culture Ministry so that I can get out of here and back to bed, you can have my promotion.”

  “Mine, too.”

  Dimitri smiled. “Deal.”

  * * *

  Yianni refused to leave the hospital in an ambulance. He said he was fine. Toni told him to get over his macho stubbornness and think of it as a limo or else she was going straight back to Mykonos. They compromised on Yianni sitting up front with the driver.

  When they arrived at the house, Lila and Maggie were waiting for them outside the front door. “We had to put the brass band on hold,” Lila said, exchanging cheek kisses with Yianni and Toni, “because the men of the house are sleeping.”

  “They were up until after dawn,” said Maggie.

  “I know,” said Yianni. “I spoke to them on their way back to the house.”

  Toni poked Yianni in the arm. “This one kept waking up all night to check his messages.”

  “They promised to message me once the raid was over. How could I sleep?”

  “There’s a bedroom waiting for you two whenever you’d like it,” said Lila.

  “I’ll take you up on that offer,” said Toni. “After two days of dozing on a hospital chair, I could use a bed.”

  “What time do they plan on leaving for the meeting?” asked Yianni.

  “We’re leaving at two thirty,” said Maggie.

  Yianni perked up. “You’re going with them?”

  “So am I,” added Lila. “Each of us read a different notebook, so we all have to be there.”

  “I read two,” said Maggie. “Besides, the restaurant we�
�re meeting at is terrific.”

  “It’ll be like a family outing,” said Maggie.

  “Well, I guess that settles it,” said Yianni.

  “Settles what?” asked Toni.

  “We’re all going.”

  “No you’re—”

  Yianni cut Toni off. “Nonnegotiable. As Maggie said, it’s a family outing, not a police action. Besides, I’m the only one who’s read all of the notebooks and spoken to people named in two of them. I have to be there.”

  “Your health is more important. And need I remind you again: You just got out of the hospital.”

  “And now I’m going to take a nap. I’ll be fine.”

  Toni shot him the middle finger and glared. “Fine, but if that meeting puts you back in the hospital, get yourself another nursemaid.”

  Yianni leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. “Never.”

  * * *

  Yianni sat in the front passenger seat next to Andreas, while Lila and Toni occupied the far rear seats and Maggie and Tassos had the middle row.

  Andreas glanced at Yianni. “Are you comfortable?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you sure?” asked Maggie.

  “Yes,” said Yianni. “Please stop worrying about me. I’d be more concerned about how we’re going to play this. If we’re not careful, it could turn into the opening line to a bad joke. ‘Three couples walk into a restaurant…’”

  “Or a caper movie starring Charlie’s Angels and the Three Stooges,” quipped Maggie.

  “Okay, children, behave,” said Andreas. “This is how we’re going to play it. I’ll introduce each of you and explain why you’re there. Yianni, Tassos, and I will do most of the questioning. If any of you have a question or think there’s something we missed, don’t just blurt it out. Let me know what’s on your mind. There may be a method to what you see as our utter stupidity.”

  “Or there may not be,” added Yianni.

  “As I can attest,” said Tassos.

  “Thank you, gentlemen, for demonstrating another point I want us all to keep in mind. The key to this afternoon is to remain serious. That means, staying on message. The message being: We need your help to save a young woman’s life.”

  “I guess we’re done with denying she’s disappeared,” said Yianni.

  Andreas nodded. “That’s a secret I think it’s safe to assume is long out of the bag among many Naxians and certainly is with those we’ll be meeting. Besides, it’s Sunday afternoon, and we only have until noon tomorrow before the whole world knows.”

  Yianni adjusted himself in his seat. “I know you’ve been talking among yourselves about the notebooks, so it would be helpful to me if you’d each give a quick rundown on what you found significant in whatever notebook you read. That way, I’ll know if I missed something or have something to add to your take.”

  “Sure,” said Andreas. “Maggie, since you read the notebooks covering Nikoletta’s interview with the hacker, and with the mayor and hotel association guy, why don’t you start?”

  One by one they described their respective notebook’s high points and what they thought significant. When they’d finished it was close to two thirty, and they were less than a kilometer from the taverna.

  “Well done, class, and we’re right on time. Now remember what I said: Stay serious, and stay on message.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Andreas parked behind the taverna at the edge of an olive grove. His party entered single file through an open back door and found their way onto the veranda, where three men and two women sat on the far side of a long table spanning the rear of the space.

  Timeliness was not a traditional Greek trait, yet the five they’d come to meet were all there, and from the number of bottles, plates, and cigarette butts in front of them, had been there for quite a while. Andreas took that to mean they’d been meeting among themselves in preparation for their meeting with him. A prudent thing to do.

  “Welcome,” said Chef from his seat between two men and two women. “Please excuse us for not standing, but we’re sort of wedged in here.”

  “No problem,” said Andreas, walking up to a chair directly across from Chef’s extended hand. “Sorry we’re late.”

  “You’re right on time.” They shook hands and Chef turned first to the women seated next to him to Andreas’s left and then to the men seated to Andreas’s right. “This is Chief Inspector Andreas Kaldis, head of GADA’s Special Crimes Unit. He requested this meeting.” Chef turned back to Andreas. “Perhaps you’d like to introduce your colleagues to us, some of whom I’ve already met.”

  “As very satisfied customers,” added Andreas. “My pleasure, but before I do, please allow me to express my gratitude to each of you for taking the time to come here today. We truly need your help, or rather the reporter to whom each of you spoke, Nikoletta Elia, needs your help.”

  He paused. When no one asked why their help was needed, he knew they were indeed already aware that Nikoletta had disappeared.

  “I’ve brought five colleagues with me, because the situation we’re facing is serious and urgent. I trust you’ll keep what we talk about this afternoon in strict confidence, as the safety of the reporter may depend upon our discretion.”

  He pointed at Tassos. “This is Tassos Stamatos, chief homicide investigator for the Cyclades. And this is Detective Yianni Kouros, who works with me at GADA.” Both men nodded to the group and sat to Andreas’s right.

  “Maggie,” he said, “is my personal assistant at GADA. And Toni is an expert at recovering missing items and persons. Finally,” he nodded at his wife, “Lila Vardi specializes in the study of erratic behavior.” As they sat to Andreas’s left, he made a mental note to compliment Lila and the others for keeping a straight face at her introduction.

  Chef introduced those seated on his side of the table: Farmer, Artist, Bookseller, and Shepherd.

  Except for Andreas and Chef, no one had said a word since Andreas and his group walked onto the veranda. Nor had anyone asked about Yianni’s bandages, which Andreas took to mean they already knew how he’d earned them.

  Andreas looked at Farmer. “May I start with you, Miss?”

  “It’s Ms.”

  “My apologies. I believe you were the first of this group to speak to the reporter.”

  “We’re not a group. We’re each independent of the other, with independent views, principles, and goals.”

  “I did not mean to suggest otherwise. Did you have the occasion to discuss any of that with the reporter?”

  “The reporter is a woman with a name. You should use it.”

  Andreas forced what he hoped looked like a sincere smile. “I’m actually working quite hard at trying to save Nikoletta’s life, so if you’d meet me halfway on this back-and-forth over what you two talked about, it might be of great help in that endeavor.”

  “Are you suggesting I’m not cooperating?”

  “Oh, shut the fuck up, already, and answer the man’s question,” growled Artist. “This isn’t an equal rights confrontation; it’s an attempt to save a sister’s life. So stuff the bullshit and get to what you talked about with her.”

  “Go to hell,” said Farmer.

  This was not working out as Andreas had hoped. “Uh, folks, could we try kickstarting this again? Please remember why we’re here.” He stared straight at Farmer.

  She stared back. “Nikoletta wanted to know how I felt about the island’s expanding tourism. I said I wasn’t against it as long as it was measured and in keeping with the environment. She told me that was a wonderful phrase to crochet on a pillow, but what did I really think?”

  Andreas nodded and said nothing.

  “That’s when I told Nikoletta that strangers were buying up some of our finest virgin beachfront property in areas where development was forbidden.”

 
“What sorts of strangers?” said Andreas.

  “I don’t know. They’re using foreign companies.”

  “How do you know this?”

  “I come from an old Naxian family with relatives everywhere, and many with beachfront property were approached.”

  “Why do you think strangers are trying to buy up that kind of property?”

  “Because they see the writing on the wall. Naxos is gaining in popularity, and they’re betting that sometime soon mounting pressure for development will make the government ease up on restrictions.”

  “Let’s hope that day never comes,” said Lila.

  Andreas glanced at Lila, and she looked back at him.

  Farmer smiled at Lila. “Exactly. Stand your ground.”

  Andreas swallowed. “What else did you and Nikoletta talk about?”

  “That’s about it.”

  “Did you give her the names of those buying or attempting to buy the properties?”

  “She asked, but I said I didn’t remember.”

  Andreas paused to compose his next question. “Does that mean you remember now?”

  She spread her hands out in front of her. “Is it important?”

  “It might help save her life.”

  “How?” asked Bookseller.

  “If I knew that,” said Andreas, “I wouldn’t be asking for the names.”

  “But naming names is frowned upon on this island.”

  “Snitching is frowned upon just about everywhere,” added Chef.

  “In some of our villages it can lead to a vendetta,” said Shepherd.

  Andreas held up his hands. “From the way everyone’s reacting, am I correct that all of you know of this effort to buy up properties?”

  At first no one responded. Then, one by one, each nodded yes.

  “So, how many different buyers are we talking about?”

  Silence.

  “Come on, at least tell me that.”

  Bookseller raised his hand. “I can’t say for sure, but my father’s a lawyer and his clients have received offers for their property from a lot of different foreign companies.”

  Andreas suppressed a sigh at the continued vagueness.