“But they all had one thing in common.”
“What’s that?”
“The same local approached each of them on behalf of a different foreign company.”
Andreas leaned in toward Bookseller. “Could you please give me that person’s name?”
Bookseller looked at his colleagues, but none reacted.
“I assume from their silence that no one disagrees with your telling me.”
“I don’t know his full name, but everyone calls him Honeyman.”
Andreas hoped his poker face had held up as he turned to Farmer. “Is that the name you couldn’t remember for the one who approached your relatives?”
“Yes, Spyros the Honeyman. That’s the one.” She smiled.
“Why are you smiling?”
“All the locals know he’s a fast-talking con man, and they’ll have nothing to do with him. Which means whoever’s buying isn’t local. No Naxian would ever use him as their intermediary.”
Andreas paused. “Did Nikoletta ask all of you what you knew about people trying to buy and develop beachfront property?”
All nodded yes.
Why then, Andreas wondered, had not a word about any of this appeared in Nikoletta’s notebooks?
Where to go next with the questioning? And, more to the point, what else could Nikoletta have not recorded from her interviews?
“Chief?” said Shepherd.
“Yes, sir.”
“I’m a close friend of Popi’s husband.”
“Yes, I know.”
“He told me what happened, and that got me to thinking about the really bad guys on this island. There’s the one the reporter wrote about and the ones who tried to kill Popi and you.” He nodded at Yianni.
Yianni nodded back.
“It’s said bad things come in threes. Well, I have a third for you, Petros Zagorianos.”
Yianni raised an eyebrow. “Do you mean Peter Zagori? The tourist who died in a fall from Grotta?”
“Yes, but he’s no tourist. He’s from a village close to mine. He was a bad kid and a worse adult. He went to America, changed his name, and became a hired killer. His family actually bragged about it. It’s that kind of family.”
“Are you saying everybody knows he’s a hired killer?” said Andreas.
“No, just those from his village and some in a neighboring village that shares its Cretan roots.”
“May I ask the name of Zagori’s village?”
“Filoti.”
Andreas stared at him. “I think I know the place. We spent most of last night there.” With Honeyman’s beehives.
* * *
The rest of the afternoon was interesting and, when food started coming out of the kitchen, tasty as well, but Andreas’s thoughts focused on Honeyman. In less than twenty-four hours of poking into the background of this seemingly simple local grifter, Spyros had been exposed as central to a high-end antiquities-smuggling operation, the island’s front man for a host of clandestine real estate ventures and a broker for contract killings. How could an experienced investigative reporter like Nikoletta not have discovered at least some of those same things? Perhaps she had, possibly much more. All of which kept leading Andreas back to the same question. Why didn’t she put any of this into her notebooks?
Andreas excused himself from the table and went back to the SUV. From there he called Dimitri and asked him for the Athens address of Honeyman’s wife and daughter. If Honeyman was there, they’d arrest him on the spot. If not, they’d keep an eye on his family until they found him. Attempted cop killers earned that kind of attention. Besides, characters this dirty could be involved in anything, and with Honeyman’s fellow villager and contract killer Peter Zagori’s body turning up at the scene of Nikoletta’s disappearance, Andreas had no doubt Honeyman was somehow tied into whatever happened to the reporter.
By the time he returned to the taverna, Andreas had heard back from Dimitri with the address and passed it along, together with instructions, to the GADA officers he wanted to make the arrest. All they needed now was luck. Inside, the meeting was breaking up. Andreas joined in thanking everyone for coming and offered his help should the day ever come that one of them might need it.
Artist hugged Lila. “Please do stop by my studio in Halki. I’d love to introduce you to some of the other board members of our environmental organization. I sense we share the same sensibilities.”
“That’s very flattering,” smiled Lila.
“And she’s speaking for both of us,” said Farmer.
“You’re on the same board?” said Andreas.
“Of course, why else would I let her speak to me the way she does? It livens up our meetings.”
“Don’t believe it. She’s a royal pain in the ass,” said Artist, taking Farmer by the arm and tugging her toward the door.
Lila smiled. “It still will be my pleasure.”
“I hope we helped,” said Bookseller.
“You certainly did. Thank you,” said Andreas.
“I want you to catch the bastards who did this,” Shepherd told Yianni.
“You can count on it, if only for Popi’s sake.”
Shepherd shook Yianni’s hand, nodded to Andreas, bowed to the women, and followed Bookseller out the door.
Andreas turned to Chef and smiled. “I really owe you a big-time favor. We couldn’t have accomplished this without you.”
“It was the right thing to do. You were vouched for by a man we all respect, and we agreed before you got here that since we’d shown up, we had to follow through and do what we could to help, even if some of us were less than thrilled at the notion of helping the police.”
“Understood,” said Andreas. “But I meant what I said: If there ever comes a day when you need me for anything, don’t hesitate to ask.”
“Well, now that you mention it, there is one thing.”
So soon? Andreas wondered what was coming.
Chef handed a paper to Andreas. “You can pay the lunch bill.”
* * *
Once in the SUV and headed back to the house, Andreas brought Tassos and Yianni up to speed on his efforts to track down Honeyman.
“I’m sort of getting used to driving this road,” said Andreas, glancing off to his left.
“Too bad you don’t get to see the scenery,” said Lila. “It’s amazing just watching the shadows play off against the hills and valleys. So many shades of color.”
“My favorite part,” said Toni, “is that elevated stretch of road bound by a long line of eucalyptus trees framing everything between us and the sea.”
“My favorite part is the food,” said Tassos.
“That explains why you were so quiet during our meeting,” said Andreas.
“I thought you handled it quite well and saw no reason to speak.”
“That generally means we both missed something.”
“Speaking of missing something…” said Yianni.
“What’s that?” asked Andreas.
“With all these folks talking to Nikoletta about foreign efforts to buy up beachfront property, why’s there no mention of any of that in her notebooks?”
“That bothers me too,” said Andreas.
“What do you mean?” asked Toni.
“Just that,” said Yianni. “There’s not a word about any of that in her notebooks.”
“That can’t be true,” said Toni, leaning forward.
“I’ve read them all and, believe me, there’s no mention.”
Toni shook her head. “While Andreas was outside and the rest of you were chatting among yourselves, I was talking to Artist and Farmer. Artist said she noticed that none of us was taking notes. I said I hadn’t noticed. She asked me if we were recording the meeting, and I said not that I knew of. She said that was good, because she woul
dn’t want what she’d said to Farmer recorded on audio for posterity. All of us laughed. That’s when Farmer said how impressed she was at the reporter’s thoroughness as a note-taker, taking down almost every word.”
“We already knew that,” said Yianni.
Toni bristled. “Well, then you probably already know this too, Detective. The artist said Nikoletta was not only thorough but organized. She brought two notebooks with her, and when she started asking questions about the efforts to buy up property, she switched to the second notebook. When she’d finished asking those questions, she went back to her first notebook. And while Artist was telling me all of that, Detective, Farmer was nodding in agreement.”
“Another notebook?” said Andreas.
“I never saw a sixth notebook,” said Yianni. “Where the hell could it be?”
“I don’t know,” said Andreas, “but I’m going to have Dimitri leave us a car at the house. Tassos and I will use that one and leave the SUV for the rest of you.”
“Hey, what about me?” said an irritated Yianni.
“You’ve done enough for your first day out of the hospital. Rest up, because tomorrow could be D-day for us all.”
“Where are you two planning on going?” said Maggie. “Tassos isn’t exactly up to storming beachheads.”
“Don’t know yet, but the logical place to start looking for the missing notebook is back at Nikoletta’s hotel.”
“A sixth notebook,” said Yianni. “I can’t believe it.”
“Believe it, Detective.” Toni leaned across the middle seat and patted him on the head. “Whether or not you apologize.”
* * *
The battered blue-and-white police cruiser had seen better days, but Andreas was happy to have it. The dents and scrapes gave it the sort of character that made other drivers hang back out of fear that they might be its next victim.
“So, what do you think happened to the sixth notebook?”
Tassos looked out the passenger side window. “The obvious answer is someone took it from her hotel room.”
“Before or after she disappeared?”
“Could be either, though if after, the night security guy is the chief suspect.”
“Dimitri’s asking the hotel owner to bring him in early so we can question him.”
“What if no one took it?”
Andreas slowed down to allow a half dozen hobbled goats to cross the road. “Then Nikoletta must have done something with it.”
“Like what?”
“Hidden it, lost it, given it away, taken it with her, or destroyed it. If we find it, or find her, we might find out.”
“I wonder what’s in it?”
“Don’t we all.”
Ten minutes later, Andreas pulled up in front of Nikoletta’s hotel. “Time to see where this new twist takes us.”
“Speaking of twists, I already feel like a pretzel. This damned seat doesn’t go back.”
Andreas looked back and laughed. “It will if you move the case of water from behind it.”
“Son of a bitch,” said Tassos, wedging his way out of the seat.
“I’m sure Dimitri put it there because he thought we might need the water.”
Tassos opened the rear door and lifted the case onto the back seat. “Well, it’s enough to last us for a week. I hope he doesn’t think we’ll be driving this piece of crap for that long.”
“Chief Inspector Kaldis?”
Andreas turned to see a tall, slim man standing outside the hotel entrance. “Yes?”
“I’m the owner of the hotel. Welcome.”
The three men shook hands.
“We’d like to speak to your night man, Anargyros.”
“I tried to get him to come in earlier, but he can’t make it before eleven.”
“Damn,” said Andreas.
“Perhaps there’s something I can help you with? Come, let’s go into my office.”
As they walked by reception, a dark-haired, perky young Greek woman smiled. “Hi.”
Tassos and Andreas smiled back.
Once inside his office and seated around his desk, the owner said, “So, what can I do to help you?”
“How long have you known Anargyros?”
“Many years.”
“Do you trust him?”
“If I didn’t, he wouldn’t be working here.”
“I understand he has a drug problem.”
“Had. He’s worked hard at beating it.”
“Does he have access to your guest rooms?” said Tassos.
“He knows where the keys are, so I guess the answer is yes.”
“Who else has access to those keys?” said Andreas.
“Theoretically anyone.”
“How’s that?” said Tassos.
“When guests go out of the hotel they’re required to leave their keys with us, and we place them on top of the reception desk for them to pick up on their return.”
Andreas leaned forward. “So, after she left the hotel at four that morning, anyone could have picked up her key and gotten into her room, assuming they got past Anargyros?”
“As a matter of fact, not that night. When Nikoletta ran out, she took her key with her. We had to have a new one made.”
Andreas slouched back in his chair. “Damn.”
“What are you looking for? If you told me, perhaps I could be of better assistance.”
“We think someone took something from her room.”
“What sort of thing?”
“A notebook,” said Tassos.
“Let’s speak to my receptionist. If anyone on the hotel staff knew what happened to it, she would.” He picked up his phone. “Marine, could you please come in for a moment.”
Five seconds later the perky woman stepped into the room. “Yes, sir?”
“These gentlemen are with the police, and they are looking for a notebook that belonged to Nikoletta Elia.”
“What sort of notebook?”
“The size we used in school,” said Tassos.
“Way back in the days before computers,” smiled Andreas.
“About this size?” said Marine, making a shape with her hands.
“Yes.”
“No, I never saw a notebook.”
Andreas exhaled. “Well, thanks anyway.”
“But she did ask me to send off a package for her of about that size.”
Andreas and Tassos sat up in their chairs.
“When?” asked Andreas.
“A day or two before she disappeared.”
“She disappeared early Thursday morning,” said Andreas.
Marine thought for a moment. “She gave me the package on Tuesday afternoon. Said it had to get to Athens right away.”
“And you mailed it?” said Tassos.
“No, she wanted it sent by air courier that evening, no matter what the cost.”
“Where did she send it?”
“I’ll have to check my calendar. That’s where I keep a record of such things.”
The owner motioned for her to get it.
“You run a tight ship,” said Andreas.
“We try.”
Marine returned with a large calendar. “Let’s see. Last Tuesday. Oh, here it is.”
She put the calendar down on the desk between the two policemen and pointed with her finger to an entry. “That’s the name and address.”
Tassos read the name out loud. “Giorgos Pappas.”
Andreas’s jaw tightened. “Nikoletta’s editor.”
Chapter Fifteen
“Pappas? It’s Kaldis here.”
“Have you found Nikoletta?”
“Not yet.”
“Then why are you calling me? I don’t need stroking.”
“What
you need is a hard kick in the ass, but I’d rather deliver that to you in person.”
“What—
“Just shut up and listen. In your moments of deep concern over the fate of your reporter, did you happen to forget to tell me a few things?”
“What things?”
“Let me be clear about this, Giorgos. From the way you’re reacting, you might want to consider hiring a lawyer before getting yourself into deeper trouble than you’re already in.”
“Is that a threat?”
“If you’re guilty of what I have in mind, you’d better believe it is.”
“Would you mind telling me what you’re talking about?”
“Let’s start with that notebook you neglected to tell me about.”
“What notebook?”
Andreas said nothing.
“I said what note—Wait, are you talking about the one Nikoletta sent me a couple of days before she disappeared?”
“Brilliant. Amazing how you figured that out all on your own.”
“Just hold on a minute. It never entered my mind that it might be relevant to her disappearance.”
“Bullshit.”
“Like hell it is.”
“Then convince me why you didn’t think it relevant.”
“Fine!” he yelled. “When Nikoletta’s interview story broke, I wanted her back in Athens to work on our planned follow-up series, but she insisted she needed more time to finish her tourism piece. I told her to forget about it and get her ass back to Athens. Frankly, I thought she was looking for a way to extend her stay on Naxos at the paper’s expense. Underpaid reporters have been known to do that sort of thing.”
“You’re not convincing me.”
“I agreed to give her more time, but then my publisher started busting my balls to get her back in the office at work on the series. He’d never liked the tourism piece, said death and disaster sold newspapers. I told her the only way she could stay on Naxos was if she gave me something to convince our publisher that her time spent there was worthwhile. She said she couldn’t divulge her sources on the tourism piece but that she’d come across something that might just do the trick. She learned about a local character who has a hand in just about every hustle on the island. He’s a small-time grifter, and his story wasn’t part of her tourism piece, but it’s the sort of roguish tale people like to read. I thought it might appeal to our publisher. I told her to get me what she had right away, and she promised to send her notes to me by courier.”
A Deadly Twist Page 17
