“Both are lovely villages,” said Lila, “and I’m sure they’ll have suggestions on what else we should see.”
Maggie reached for a croissant. “What time do you want to leave?”
“In about an hour,” said Lila.
“Finally,” said Maggie with a smile. “A day away from intrigues and mystery.”
Toni raised her cup. “And hospital rooms.”
* * *
Andreas, Tassos, and Yianni made it to Siphones by eight thirty a.m. They stood on the side of the road above the abandoned village and saw no one.
“The broken plaque with the mysterious inscription is up there.” Yianni pointed to the right.
“No one’s here yet, so we might as well take a look at it,” said Andreas, walking toward the marble cross. “Who knows? Maybe we’ll be struck with some brilliant insight that solves Popi’s mystery and makes her day.”
Looking at the cross, Andreas said, “So, where’s the plaque?”
Yianni pointed to broken pieces of marble in the grass by the base of the cross. “I’ve written it all down in my notebook.”
Andreas crouched and read the inscription aloud:
“TRIBUTE DEDICATION TO SAINT CYPRIAN.
OH SAINT MIRACLE WORKER
I WILL NEVER CEASE TO THINK
OF THE MANY MIRACLES YOU’VE DONE FOR US
FAITH IS TAKING ROOT IN MY HEART
EXHILARATION OVERFLOWS
AS DOES MY GRATITUDE TO YOU
TO THE WALKER PASSING BY
HE MAY BRING FAITH THAT SAVES US
FROM EVERY CALAMITY
FROM CHRIST YOU TOOK YOUR JOY
TO HEAL THE WOUNDS FROM THE DEMONS
AND FROM THEIR WORKS OF MAGIC
PUT ON THE FAITHFUL WHO CALL ON YOU
TO UNBIND ALL THOSE WITH LOVE
WITH A FAITH THAT IS VAST.”
“Sure sounds mysterious to me,” said Tassos. “I know some pray to Saint Cyprian to break curses and spells, if you go in for that sort of thing, but you have to read an extremely long prayer to invoke his assistance.”
“I don’t have a clue to what it means,” said Andreas.
“Maybe the grandfather knows something about it,” said Yianni.
“I’ve more important questions to ask him,” said Andreas.
“Speak of the devil,” said Yianni. “Look who’s pulling up.”
“Let’s hope not,” said Tassos, crossing himself.
A sun-bleached maroon Toyota pickup stopped by the side of the road across from their police car. The father got out the driver side, the grandfather the passenger side. One grabbed a hoe from the bed of the pickup, the other a shovel, and together they walked away from the cops alongside a stretch of goat-wire fencing strung parallel to the road.
“I wonder where the boy is,” said Andreas.
“I wonder where they’re going,” said Yianni. “The way into the village is through a culvert, on the other side of the road.”
The two men stopped, pulled open a narrow gate made of the same fencing, and stepped onto a set of stone steps mounted nearly invisibly up against a retaining wall made of the same stone.
“Son of a bitch,” said Yianni. “When I asked the father if there was another way back onto the road he didn’t tell me about the steps.”
“You’re such a trusting soul,” said Tassos, making for the steps.
Yianni called out for the two farmers to wait for them. By the time they’d caught up, the grandfather had started working his hoe on a patch of unplanted soil.
“Didn’t expect to see you again, Detective,” said the father.
“I missed exploring culverts, Junior.”
Junior grinned.
“This is my boss, Chief Inspector Andreas Kaldis, head of GADA’s Special Crimes Unit and Chief Homicide Investigator for the Cyclades Tassos Stamatos.”
Junior’s grin abruptly faded.
“We’re here because we don’t think you told me the whole truth.”
Junior clenched the shovel tightly in his hands. “Are you calling me a liar?”
“Don’t bother to run that routine past me again. And in case you’re wondering about these bandages I’m wearing, right after the last time we spoke, somebody tried to kill me and your hunting buddy’s wife, Popi.” Yianni pointed to the shovel. “Nothing would give me greater joy than for you to try using that on me. It would answer a lot of questions, plus give me the opportunity to vent a whole lot of pent-up rage.”
“I had nothing to do with what happened to you or Popi.”
“Just drop the fucking shovel.”
Junior froze for an instant, then dropped the shovel.
“A wise decision,” said Andreas. “No one is accusing you or anyone in your family of having anything to do with what happened the other day, but we do have some questions for your father.”
“My father knows nothing about any of this. As I told him,” pointing at Yianni, “he’s not all there.”
“Well, we still have questions for him,” said Andreas.
“Klefteraki, how are you, my friend?” Tassos yelled out to the grandfather.
The father whirled to face Tassos. “Why did you call him that?”
“We all did back in the day. It was his nickname.”
“I haven’t heard him called that in forty years.”
“Little Thief may not sound like a compliment, but that was his nickname when we first met. If we’re trying to jog his memory, why not try a blast from the past?”
Junior shut his eyes, shook his head, and waved toward his father. “Okay, go ahead and try, but don’t upset him.”
Tassos walked over to the grandfather. “Klefteraki, it’s Tassos. We worked together down by Alyko on that Junta hotel project. You did digging; I did guarding.”
The grandfather looked up and studied Tassos’s face. “I don’t remember you.”
“I was the one you always told, ‘Keep your nose out of other people’s business.’”
The grandfather kept staring at Tassos’s face, then suddenly smiled. “I remember you. But you were so thin and good-looking then.”
Andreas suppressed a laugh. Yianni wasn’t as successful, and the grandfather shot him a stern look. “You need to show more respect to your elders, young man.”
“Don’t mind him,” said Tassos.
“I apologize, sir.”
“That’s better.” The grandfather turned back to Tassos. “So what can I do for you…uh…”
“Tassos.”
“Sorry, I have such trouble with names these days.”
“I do too. But that’s sort of what I’m hoping you can help me with.”
“Names?”
“Yes.”
“From back then?”
“Yes.”
“That’s a long time ago.”
“I know, but I think these names were important to you then.”
He leaned against his hoe. “What are the names?”
“That’s what I need from you. All I have are initials.”
“Oh, my, I don’t know how I’ll possibly remember names from initials.”
“Well, let’s try. They’re JSS, GTS, AKS, KSM, RIM, and BZ.”
The grandfather’s eyes appeared to glaze over. He closed and opened them three times. “Please, say them to me again.”
He squinted and began nodding in concentration as Tassos repeated the initials.
He shook his head. “I’m sorry. I recognize nothing.”
“Excuse me,” interrupted Yianni. “Perhaps I can help, sir.” He pulled his notebook out from his pocket and showed a page to the grandfather. “Can you tell me who wrote this?”
The grandfather leaned in close to the paper and carefully mouthed the word
s. His face lit up. “Yes, it was Giannis Nikiforou Konstantakis, a grocer up in Koronos.”
He paused to swallow. “His mother, Sofia, was from here, and she twice saved him from the devil. He erected the plaque to honor her deep faith in God…”
He paused, shut his eyes, and gently rocked from side to side. “And her answered prayers to Saint Cyprian that he use his magic powers to save her son from the devil and bring joy back to his life.”
“I thought the plaque had to do with the reason everyone left the village,” said Junior.
“Yeah, like ghosts or disease,” said Yianni.
“Ridiculous,” said the grandfather. “People abandoned our village for the same reason as people abandoned other villages.”
He spoke with a touch of newfound, flinty-eyed determination. “The same work that earned them five drachmas in our village would earn them fifty drachmas in Chora or Athens. And after the war, people wanted education for their children, but we had no school here. That meant a life of hard labor for the sons, and if our daughters were lucky, landing a job as a housekeeper in Athens. They all wanted better lives and more modern things. Education was the only way, so they moved. Even my grandson is looking for better opportunities.”
Junior smiled. “He’s off this morning on a college interview.”
Yianni smiled and slapped him on the back. “Congratulations, you must be very proud.”
Junior kept smiling. “We are, thank you.”
“Who broke the plaque?” said Andreas.
“I can answer that,” said Junior. “Some idiot in a rental car backed into it.”
“So,” said Yianni, “now that we’ve resolved that mystery, perhaps you can help us with this one.” Yianni showed him a page from his notebook listing the six sets of initials.
The grandfather stared at the page for a moment, then waggled a finger in the air. “I’ve seen these initials before, but I can’t quite place where.”
Yianni gave him a bit more time to study the page. “Perhaps they relate to your work with antiquities?”
The grandfather moved his stare to the ground. “Yes, that could be it.” He shut his eyes and again began to gently rock from side to side. “When I worked at that hotel site, I remember a very large woman in her sixties. I met with her many times. She always wanted to know what new things we’d found. We’d describe them, and then they’d disappear.”
“Did she take them?”
“I don’t know, but no one ever questioned where they’d gone.”
“I can’t recall ever seeing someone like that on the site,” said Tassos.
“She only met with us who dug and her project manager who’d hired us. And we always met with her away from where we worked.”
“What was her name?” said Tassos.
“I never heard it.”
“What about the initials?” said Andreas.
“She had six children but never spoke of them by name, only initials.”
“What would she say about them?” asked Yianni.
The grandfather opened his eyes. “Something like, ‘These are right for BZ’ or ‘This should go to AS.’”
Tassos stared at Andreas. “Sounds like we’ve come across a dynasty of antiquities plunderers.”
Yianni leaned into the old man. “Sir, can you think of anything at all that might help us identify the woman?”
“No, but her project manager would know all about her.” The grandfather paused.
The cops perked up.
“But he’s dead. Died in a car accident here on Naxos twenty-five years ago.”
Tassos looked at Andreas. “At about the same time as Honeyman went into the antiquities storage business.”
* * *
“Where to now, Chief?” said Yianni as Andreas made a U-turn, headed south, toward the village of Moni.
“I want to stop at the police station in Filoti. There must be someone around who can identify that woman. From the way the grandfather spoke of her, she spent a lot of time on the island and likely came from money. A big woman with six children? She shouldn’t be that difficult to identify.”
“Then what?” said Tassos.
“Not sure yet, but at least we’ll know we’re barking up the right family tree.”
Yianni grimaced. “That was really bad.”
Andreas smiled. “I happened to like it. And speaking of liking, I really liked the way you handled the grandfather. Where did you learn to do that?”
“Too much personal family experience.” Yianni paused. “The key to dealing with folks with teetering memories is to keep yourself calm, not to push them, and to do what you can to make them feel comfortable. Start with what they know or once knew well, and only when you sense they’ve regained some confidence in their memories do you risk probing gently.”
“I’ll try to remember that,” said Andreas.
“On the subject of remaining calm,” Tassos said to Yianni, “I’m all for the good cop, bad cop routine, but when you, with your two broken ribs and bandages, launched in on Junior over that long, hard shovel in his hands, I wondered if you’d taken into account the size of the man you were trying to stand down.”
“Yes, I had.”
“And what was your plan if he’d swung?”
“To keep ducking until one of you shot him.”
“Great plan.”
Ring, ring.
“Now what?” said Andreas, grappling for his phone with one hand and driving with the other. He looked at the screen. “It’s the minister. Here, Yianni, answer and put us on speakerphone.”
“Hello, Andreas?”
“Yes, Minister. Hello.”
“Where are you?”
“Naxos, on our way to the police station in Filoti.”
“How goes the investigation into the missing reporter?” The minister spoke in a measured tone, unusual for him.
“We’ve got some good leads on some bad folks, and once we locate them, we should be in a better position to find her.”
“In other words, you have no fucking idea where she is.”
So much for measured tones. “I guess some cynics might describe it that way.”
“This is not a joke, Kaldis.”
“Let’s cut to the chase, Minister. Who’s beating down your door on this?”
“I just received a letter delivered by hand from the reporter’s publisher, charging you with gross dereliction of duty in your handling of her disappearance and threatening to wipe you and me off the face of the earth if I don’t immediately fire you. He also accused you of making ‘extortionate threats’ if he sought the help of the public to find her.”
Andreas answered calmly. “And what reason did he offer for my conduct?”
“To quote him, ‘Kaldis’s megalomaniacal ego and psychotic obsession for control endangers the very citizens he’s sworn to protect.’”
“So, what’s his bottom line?”
“If you’re not fired by the end of today, he’s going public with his charges.”
“Good.”
“Good? What the hell does that mean?”
“I told him to give me until midnight to find the reporter. He’s obviously agreed.”
“Maybe you are insane.”
“I’ll take that to mean I still have my job. At least until midnight.”
“I’ll fax a copy of the letter to you at the Filoti station. Once you’ve read it, tell me how you want to handle it. This man wants your head. Decide whether you want to resign or be dismissed.”
“Is there another choice?”
“Yes, find his reporter before midnight.”
The line went dead.
“Didn’t we discuss this possibility when you decided to threaten the head of the most powerful publishing family in Greece?” said Tasso
s.
“Is this an I-told-you-so moment?” said Andreas.
“No, more of a looks-like-now-you’ll-have-more-time-to-spend-with-the-family moment.”
Andreas glanced at Yianni, “Thank you for your help on that call.”
“What are you talking about? All I did was hold the phone.”
“No, for your advice on how to deal with the senile. It also seems to apply to bureaucrats. Stay calm, make them feel comfortable, and then pounce.”
“Gentlemen, we only have until midnight,” said Yianni. “What do you suggest we do?”
“I want to call Dimitri and see who he thinks can help us identify that woman and her children. No reason to waste time in Filoti if he can give us leads himself.”
“But what about the letter?”
“Screw it. I know what it says. I don’t have to see it in print. All it will do is cause me to lose my newfound fucking calm at that asshole publisher.” He banged away on the steering wheel.
* * *
Lila, Maggie, and Toni left the house by nine, but appealing distractions along the way led them first to the Temple of Demeter and then on to a slew of historical sites, churches, and monasteries before they made it to Halki. They found the artist’s gallery tucked away on a lane off the main road, but by then it was early afternoon and the gallery was closed. They stood staring in through display windows, wondering where to go next, when a woman’s voice yelled out to them from a kafenio across the lane. “Sisters, I’m over here.”
Artist sat at a café table, waving for the others to join her. “I never thought you meant it when you said you’d visit my gallery. I thought you were just being courteous.”
“If you knew us better, you wouldn’t say that,” said Toni.
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Artist exchanged cheek kisses with her visitors and waved to a woman standing in the doorway. “Three more wineglasses and another carafe of white, please. And don’t forget the meze.”
Once they’d been seated, Artist whispered, “I ordered some things to nibble on, but if you’re looking to have lunch, this isn’t the place.”
“The whole town has such a wonderful neoclassical atmosphere. I love it,” said Lila.
A Deadly Twist Page 19
