“Thanks. I prefer calling it neohippie classical. At one time Halki was the capital of Naxos, and a few of us have done our best to revitalize the village. The trouble is, as soon as a new shop opens with a unique concept or product, others spring up copying the original idea and charging half the price for one quarter the quality.”
“Welcome to today’s universal business model,” said Lila.
Artist glanced inside the kafenio. “Oh, no, she’s on her phone. Probably with her boyfriend. Who knows when she’ll bring our order. Come, I’ll show you my gallery while we wait.”
As soon as she stepped inside the gallery and saw the artist’s work, Lila asked Artist to allow her to make an introduction to one of Athens’s leading gallery owners. “I know her personally, and I can assure you she would love to represent you. That is, if you’re interested.”
“I thought you were some kind of psychologist?”
Lila nodded. “Believe me, I am, but art is my passion and I know what’s good. If you’re interested, let me know.”
“Your drinks are on the table” came trilling across the road from the kafenio’s doorway.
“If you’re serious, of course I’m interested. Thank you.”
“As I said before we don’t say things just out of courtesy, especially not this one,” said Toni, pointing at Lila.
“I said the drinks are on the table.”
“She must have had a fight with her boyfriend. Let’s get back to the table before she explodes. Her voice could shatter my windows.”
Over the ensuing hour, they finished off the carafe of wine; nibbled away at the bits of cucumber, cheese, and sausage offered as meze; discovered common interests; and elicited Artist’s promise to hook Lila and Toni up with her friend on Naxos, who, like them, worked with abused and trafficked young girls.
“Usually, I don’t have to say this,” said Maggie, “because Tassos does it for me, but where do you suggest we have lunch?”
“Where are you headed?”
“No plans. We thought we’d stop by Eggares to see your friend,” said Lila.
“She’s not there today. Maybe tomorrow.”
“Then we’re wide open to suggestions.”
Artist paused. “If you’re up for it, a wondrous ten-kilometer drive from here gets you to a mountain village with a great taverna. A girl who used to work here now works there. She moved to Halki to be closer to her boyfriend, but when that fell through she went back home to work in her family’s taverna. It sits on the edge of a mountainside.”
“Sound’s great. What’s the village?”
“Apeiranthos.”
“What’s it like?” asked Toni.
“It’s built between two valleys on the slopes of a mountain range. Some call it the marble village because marble’s used everywhere, from the squares used to pave its streets to the construction of its houses. The village is dominated by two seventeenth-century Venetian stone towers, and for more than half a millennium, its people have mined emery, raised livestock, and grown wine grapes. Today, it’s popular with tourists looking to explore the more remote parts of the island.”
Maggie smiled. “That’s a very good Chamber of Commerce presentation, but aren’t you leaving out a few details?”
“Like what?” asked Toni.
“Shall I tell them, or will you?” Maggie asked Artist.
“I assume you’re referring to the village’s tough mountainfolk reputation.”
“In body as well as mind,” added Maggie.
Artist nodded. “I’m not an anthropologist, but I’d venture to guess much of that comes from their Cretan roots. To this day they speak in a distinctly Cretan dialect and know how to make it through hard times by being quick-witted and doing whatever’s necessary to survive.”
Lila said, “I have friends with Apeiranthos roots. Those same qualities have served them well in fashioning highly successful and distinguished lives around the world.”
“It’s also a place where vendetta is still practiced,” said Maggie.
“I’m not so sure about that,” said Artist, “but just to be on the safe side, I’d say don’t offend someone from Apeiranthos.”
They all laughed.
Lila called for the check, but Artist insisted that in her village, she paid.
Before saying goodbye, they exchanged phone numbers, and Artist promised she’d call her friend at the mountainside taverna to tell her to expect them.
As they walked back to the SUV, Artist yelled out to the three from her doorway, “Safe travels.”
Toni looked at Lila. “Should we take that as a warning?”
Lila smiled. “Unlike us, I think she’s just being courteous.”
* * *
Dimitri told Andreas he had no idea who the large woman with six children might have been. He said, assuming she was an off-islander keeping a low-key presence in what back then was the isolated, undeveloped southern end of the island, she might have remained virtually anonymous to all but her neighbors. Then, too, she might have stayed on a boat, making her even less likely to mingle with locals. Still, he would reach out to old-timers from the area who might recall her or know of someone who would, but from how carefully she avoided being seen on the hotel site—and the suspicious death of the project manager who could identify her—he did not hold out much hope at getting an ID on her or her children.
On his own, Andreas reached out to the five locals he’d met with the day before on the off chance one of them, or their friends or relatives, might have known of the woman.
Chef said he’d check, but as she’d be well over a hundred by now, he doubted any local contemporary of hers would still be alive, although perhaps one of their children might know of her.
Shepherd said he knew little about that part of the island and nothing about the woman, but he’d ask around.
Andreas received similar responses from Farmer, Bookseller, and Artist, except Artist asked that he please tell Lila to let her know how she liked her restaurant recommendation. Andreas promised he would.
Finished with his calls, Andreas sat quietly staring out the cruiser’s front window at the line of mountains rolling north, one off into the next. Yianni and Tassos stood a few meters to the left of the front of the car, likely talking football. He’d pulled over to make his calls, and they’d gotten out to stretch their legs.
Andreas liked being a cop. Make that, loved being a cop. Mostly the camaraderie. He hoped his bravado performance with the minister wouldn’t prove to be his swan song on the force. But from the way things were shaping up, the odds weren’t in his favor.
Worse, how am I going to tell Lila that, come midnight, I’ll likely be hers, 24/7?
Chapter Seventeen
Artist’s directions had them following a twisting mountain road into the heart of Apeiranthos, where they found parking across from the Panagia Aperathitissa, one of the oldest and most impressive churches on the island. Artist had recommended they visit the church as well as a small gem of an archaeological museum, one of several such museums in the village. But at this moment their minds were on lunch.
They strolled west toward a broad, marble-paved lane running south through the heart of the village at the eastern border with one of its two embracing valleys. Kafenia, tavernas, and tourist shops lined the lane’s uphill side. Across the lane, tables offered parklike views out across a schoolyard and down into the valley, while farther on, tavernas and a few private homes claimed the more spectacular views.
Groups of three and four hard-looking men of broadly ranging ages sat scattered at well-worn tables on both sides of the lane, sipping tsipouro or beer, smoking one cigarette after another, and commenting among themselves on all who passed by. The men’s eyes locked on to the women as they approached and did not shift away as they passed, but they said not a word to the women.
>
“Anyone care to guess what’s on their minds?” said Lila.
“Bet it’s not hard,” said Toni.
“That’s not what I asked.” Lila winked.
“Hey, you made a joke,” said Toni. “But whatever they’re thinking, at least they’re keeping it to themselves. On Mykonos, by now I’d have heard a dozen not so interesting proposals yelled out in a remarkable variety of languages.”
“Amazing isn’t it, how men have the same thing on their minds no matter where they come from?” said Lila. “Though I must say, these men have been respectful, aside from where they fixed their eyes.”
“I’m past the age where I need worry about that sort of thing,” said Maggie. “But before you get too enamored of their gentlemanly behavior, allow me to remind you that vendetta is very much part of this village’s heritage. We’re strangers to these men, so until they’re sure we’re not somehow related to one of their neighbors, they wouldn’t dare insult us.”
“Oh well, I guess that’s a good side to vendetta,” said Lila.
“Until the shooting starts.”
“Wow, look at that,” said Toni, staring up at a looming fieldstone tower surrounded by matching stone terraces and verandas. It sat anchored above the west side of the lane on a base of solid rock, framed at the level of the lane in complementing stone arches and the limbs of a massive plane tree.
“It looks like a fortress,” said Maggie.
“I think the taverna we’re looking for is named after that tower.”
“I wouldn’t mind living up there,” said Toni. “It’s only two stories, but the view must be terrific.”
“Yeah, but just think of the heating bills,” quipped Maggie.
“I’d only use it in summer.”
“I think we’ve found lunch.” Lila stopped in front of a taverna bearing a sign with an image of the tower. “Yep, this is it.”
The place wasn’t crowded and Lila told the lone waitress they had a reservation. She showed them to a table at the edge of a long veranda spanning the rear of the taverna that overlooked a valley dappled gray-green from the shadows of passing clouds. “I’m the one who took your reservation. Welcome to my village.”
Toni stared down into the valley. “It’s beautiful. I can’t get over how green this island is compared to Mykonos.”
“I can’t get over how hungry I am,” said Maggie.
“Don’t worry, ladies. When my friend called to make the reservation, she said to treat you like family. And my family likes to eat. So, unless you’d prefer to order from the menu, I can start the food coming and keep it coming until you say stop.”
Three hungry women exchanged shrugs. Maggie said, “Go for it.”
“What about wine? We have wonderful local wines.”
“Why not?” said Maggie.
“But only two glasses,” said Lila. “I’m driving, and these roads and wine don’t mix.”
The waitress nodded. “There are far too many memorials along these roads attesting to the wisdom of your thinking.”
“I will take a ginger beer, though. Nonalcoholic, please.”
“Done.”
She left, headed to the kitchen, and returned with a liter carafe of wine, a bottle of ginger beer, a bottle of water, and glasses. “Enjoy.”
“I like this place,” said Toni, looking around. “Not old, not modern, just right.”
“Let’s face it, in places like this it’s all about the view,” said Maggie.
“And, we hope, the food,” added Lila.
Five minutes later the waiter arrived with platters of taramasalata, tzatziki, melitzanosalata, Greek salad, grilled octopus, shrimp saganaki, zucchini fritters, and pita bread. “How’s this for starters?”
“Starters?” said Lila. “This is enough for lunch, dinner, and tomorrow’s breakfast.”
“Well, save room. The goat and lamb are in the oven.”
By the time the main courses arrived, they’d insisted the waitress join them at their table, and soon had her sharing tales about the village and the wild and crazy people who lived there.
“I’ve heard it said that living and working in the mountains is what makes us crazy,” she said. “If you’re a fisherman, you’re surrounded by the sea, and that’s calming. But the wildness of all this,” she waved her hand at the vista, “takes hold of your spirit and makes you just as untamed.”
“I don’t know if I wholeheartedly agree,” said Toni. “At least insofar as this village goes. Frankly, I’m picking up a distinctly melancholy vibe. From what I can see, many of its magnificent homes look neglected, and as lovely as this view is down into the valley, it’s an eastern-facing village, meaning no sunsets. Over time, that must play on the villagers’ minds as a disappointment, for there’s no visible, sensual closure to the day.”
The waitress stared at Toni. “Where’d you learn to think like that? I mean, reading people so well.”
Toni shrugged. “I guess from playing piano for tips in a gay bar.”
“Perhaps that melancholy is why so few people live here year-round,” said Sofia. “Most come only for the summer, and once they’re gone, there’s very few of us left to deal with the winter.”
“Which I assume puts more stress on you?”
“You learn to deal with it. Life is hard.”
“Let’s change the subject,” said Lila. “What can you tell us about that fortress across the lane?”
“The Tower? It’s been in the same family since our Greek Revolution in 1821, but a Venetian family built it in the seventeenth century and the symbol of Venice still stands above the entrance.”
“What is it with coats of arms?” said Toni. “Europeans seemed obsessed with them.”
“Coats of arms and all that heraldry stuff is beyond me,” said Lila. “All I know about them is that long before any of that became fashionable, ancient Greek Hoplite soldiers individualized their shields. Perhaps that explains why some modern Greeks create their own coats of arms.”
“To me, all that’s nothing more than another ego trip, this time to create a corporate logo for a family.” Maggie lifted her glass of wine. “To pretensions, long may they perish.”
“More wine?” said the waiter.
“Thank you, but I think not,” said Lila. “My friends must stay awake on our ride home in order to keep me awake.”
“Nicely played, Lila,” said Maggie, waving her glass in salute. “Instead of saying ‘cut her off,’ you said help her save a life.”
Lila laughed.
“Does anyone live in that tower?” asked Toni.
“If you’re seriously thinking of living there, you definitely had too much to drink,” said Maggie.
“I’m just curious.”
“Yes, the heirs of the family come for a month in the summer.”
“And the rest of the time it’s empty?” said Lila.
“Sort of.”
“What’s that mean?” asked Toni, sipping from her water glass.
“The man who looks after it makes special arrangements for villager friends, and friends of friends, who wish to stay there.”
“For a price?” said Maggie.
“Of course,” smiled the waitress. “Everything is for a price.”
“Could we possibly get in to see it?” asked Toni.
“I’m afraid not. It’s rented at the moment.”
“Oh well, just a thought.”
“What sort of services does it offer?” asked Lila.
“Don’t tell me you’re interested too,” said Maggie.
“Just asking.”
“Whatever the client wants. The one in there now orders every meal from us. Doesn’t even squeeze her own orange juice.”
“I’d like that kind of life,” said Maggie.
“I wouldn�
��t,” said the waitress. “She never leaves the tower, and every time I suggest she walk across the road to our place for a meal, she gives me the same answer: ‘Why should I? My view’s better than yours.’”
“That sounds like behavior symptomatic of a melancholic mind,” said Maggie.
“More like clinical depression,” said Lila.
The waitress gestured no. “I don’t think so. I think it’s more a function of her work.”
Toni put down her glass. “What kind of work?”
“Writing away on a computer.”
“What is she writing?” said Lila.
“A biography.”
“Who is she writing about?” said Toni.
“I don’t know. She doesn’t like to talk about it. The most she ever said to me was that her book is about someone she met here.”
Maggie picked up her nearly empty wine glass. “Is she a famous writer?”
“She looks vaguely familiar, but unless she were a TV, movie, or music video star, I wouldn’t have a clue to her name. I try not to pay attention to what else is happening in the world. It keeps me from getting aggravated.”
“Not a bad plan,” said Toni.
“What do you know?” said Lila.
“I saw the title once.”
“What is it?”
“A crazy-sounding one.”
“How crazy could a biography title be?” asked Maggie, finishing off her wine.
“You tell me. It’s titled The Life and Times of My Black Hat Protector.”
* * *
When Andreas saw the caller was Lila, he almost didn’t take it. He sensed she’d know something was bothering him, but by the fifth ring he answered.
“Hi, my love.”
“Hey, where are you?”
“In Moni, sitting under a big pine tree, breathing in the sharp, fresh scents of wild mountain herbs as we wait for our lunch to come.”
“You’ve got to get over to Apeiranthos immediately.”
Andreas sat up. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
Lila repeated what the waitress had told them about the mysterious female guest in the tower. “And she’s been here since last Thursday.”
A Deadly Twist Page 20
