A Deadly Twist

by Jeffrey Siger

  “You do realize,” said Dimitri, “that there’s no way to keep this from the press. A total of five killings in one week in all of Greece would be front-page news. Five on one island…” He spun his hand in the air.

  “Should do wonders for tourism,” said Tassos.

  “I can already hear the mayor’s spin,” said Dimitri. “‘Through the keen investigative skills and bravery of our Naxos police, our nation has been cleansed of a murderous network responsible for the death of four men.’ He’ll play that tune long, loud, and often.”

  “At least you’ll get some credit,” said Andreas.

  “Only because he has no choice.”

  “Excuse me, but I thought Bear only killed three,” said Lila.

  “Knowing our mayor,” said Dimitri, “he’ll add the death of Peter Zagori to his tally rather than leaving open the possibility of the public thinking another killer might still be at large on the island. Besides, it will give him a better excuse than the one he’s been using for not keeping his promise to the press to turn over Zagori’s name. He’s been saying, ‘We’re waiting to hear back from the Americans.’ Now he’ll say he didn’t want to jeopardize a far more significant investigation.”

  “Do these guys ever tell the truth?” said Toni.

  “Actually, the mayor may be correct in saying Bear killed four,” said Andreas. “If not more.”

  “Who’s the fourth?” asked Dimitri.

  “The project manager. Bear was Honeyman’s natural go-to guy for that kind of thing. If the publisher told Honeyman to get rid of the manager, my money’s on Honeyman hiring Bear to do the job. It would have made everyone happy because Bear could arrange to conduct the investigation of his own hit.”

  “But Bear said Honeyman liked the manager and disliked the publisher,” said Dimitri.

  “And the mayor said the project manager was a blackmailer,” said Yianni.

  “Putting aside that Bear was a pathological psychopath and the mayor is a pathological politician, all of that could be true,” Andreas paused. “Or not. But my sense of Honeyman is that he was the sort of man who’d be loyal to whoever kept the easy money coming, and that meant the publisher. So, bye-bye, project manager, no matter what he thought of him personally.”

  “What goes around comes around,” said Yianni. “Bear did away with his buddy Honeyman for the same reason.”

  “And on the orders of the same man,” said Maggie.

  “For twenty-five years, maybe more, Bear was on easy street, collecting money through Honeyman for doing nothing except possibly listening to Honeyman bitch about his boss.”

  “Something cops are used to hearing a lot of from their buddies,” said Tassos with a smile.

  “It wasn’t until Honeyman’s botched efforts at getting rid of Nikoletta, Popi, and me that the publisher panicked and reached out to Bear directly, offering him Honeyman’s gig if he took out Honeyman and the two who’d run Popi and me off the road.”

  “The publisher must have known Bear killed the manager,” said Dimitri.

  Andreas nodded. “Bear was unstable. Knowing what Bear knew, I doubt the publisher would have allowed him to live much longer.”

  “This publisher guy must be a psycho himself,” said Dimitri. “Anything he considers potentially harmful to his family name, he eliminates.”

  “Precisely why I want Nikoletta to get her story out there ASAP. Once it’s published, the harm will be done and he’ll no longer have a reason to go after her.”

  “Except revenge,” said Toni.

  “I was thinking more about him going after you, Andreas,” said Dimitri.

  Lila’s head jerked away from her husband’s chest. Andreas kissed her forehead. “Let’s see what happens after Nikoletta’s article comes out.” He pulled Lila snugly back against his chest. “Then I’ll decide what has to be done to protect my family.”

  * * *

  Later that night, before going to bed, Andreas took a walk around the house to make sure all the doors and windows were locked. As he pulled shut the sliding door to the terrace, he heard, “Whoa, there. Is this your way of telling me to go to bed?”

  Andreas slid open the door and stepped outside. “Just taking precautions in an effort to limit my run-ins with two-legged madmen to one per day.”

  “At the risk of raising your count to two, come, sit beside me.” Tassos patted the couch.

  Andreas slid the door closed behind him, walked to the couch, and dropped next to his friend.

  “Tough day, huh?” said Tassos.

  “They all are, but when someone comes that close to taking you out…” Andreas shook his head. “Thanks, by the way, for taking the shotgun away from that nutjob.”

  “It was nothing.”

  “We both know that’s not true. He had the barrel pointed straight at you when you came at him, and he still had more than enough juice to pull the trigger.” Andreas smacked Tassos on the thigh. “You can still move pretty quickly when you have to.”

  “For an old man.”

  “Nope, for any man.”

  Tassos sighed. “We do what we have to do to protect our friends.”

  “For sure.”

  “Now, it’s my turn to thank you.”

  “Me?” said Andreas. “For what?”

  “I don’t know how many more years I have left, and—”

  “Stop with that sort of—”

  “Just let me finish.” Tassos swallowed. “And that’s had me wondering recently what really matters anymore. I can’t contribute as I once did…so why bother to learn new things, visit new places, make new friends? What’s the use? I’m just a relic.”

  “How much longer do I have to listen to this?”

  “Shh, I’m coming to the good part. They say people suffering from deep depression—which I don’t see myself as having—can benefit from shock therapy. It literally jolts them back to realizing how beautiful life can be. This afternoon on this terrace with that shotgun in my face, I experienced a sort of shock therapy. Not only did I realize in a matter of seconds that I could still contribute, but also how lost I’d be if I let anything bad happen to those I loved.”

  Andreas sat quietly for a moment, then thrust a fist into the air. “Right on.”

  Tassos laughed. “I’m serious. I feel…different now. Better, for sure. Like maybe I’m back on track, headed toward some purpose.”

  “What sort of purpose?”

  “Not sure yet, but one will come to me. I’m certain of that.”

  Andreas smiled. “Look out, bad guys of the Greek Isles, Tassos is back.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Within a week of Andreas’s return to Athens, Nikoletta’s exposé appeared as a front-page story in the newspaper owned by her publisher’s biggest rival.

  The publisher countered with stories in his paper accusing Nikoletta of being, on the one hand, a deranged purveyor of libelous fake news and, on the other, a disgruntled employee under exclusive contract to his company, barred from publishing elsewhere. In bold letters across the front page of his paper, he threatened to sue her, the paper that had published her story, and anyone else who “dared to libel his family by repeating Nikoletta Elia’s lies.”

  The trouble was, Nikoletta’s story included copies of documents substantiating her claims, and news organizations throughout the EU found them quite convincing. With the Brits having been under siege by her former publisher’s paper for years over Lord Elgin and the Parthenon Marbles, the bloodthirsty UK press had a field day, running story after story of how generations of the publisher’s family had systematically plundered their own homeland while blaming others. The Germans seized on what they saw as an opportunity to undercut Greece’s World War II reparations claims by, “in the interest of full transparency,” releasing a trove of previously unreleased documents listing t
he current owners and provenance of artifacts and other treasures claimed by Greece to have been destroyed in World War II. Many of those records related to transactions that in no way involved the publisher or his family, but they did name other prominent Greek families, now drawn into the spotlight.

  As the publisher’s defense of his family grew to ever more vituperative attacks on the European press, CNN got into the act with a special report titled “Has Greece Lost Its Marbles?” The premise of its piece questioned whether the broadening scandal might jeopardize even Greece’s legitimate claims for return of its plundered treasures.

  Despite all the heat, the publisher showed no sign of backing down. When members of Parliament and prominent citizens urged him to end the battle of words and address his concerns in court, he labeled them “useless, spineless embarrassments to those who know what it means to be Greek.”

  He used even harsher words to describe his longtime managing editor, Giorgos Pappas, who resigned in protest over his boss’s treatment of Nikoletta. Never, though, did the publisher address his critics directly or, for that matter, the substance of Nikoletta’s reporting.

  Instead, he did what came naturally to him: he berated, bragged, and bullied.

  * * *

  Sunday mornings in the Kaldis household generally meant breakfast together, followed by church with the children’s grandparents, coffee at a place of the grandparents’ choosing, and in summer, a trip to the beach.

  This Sunday morning, Andreas only made it to breakfast. Nikoletta’s story had galvanized public opinion into demanding the prosecution of the publisher and his family for their crimes. State prosecutors, feeling the intense heat from this red-hot-potato of a case, ducked responsibility for deciding whether sufficient evidence existed to prosecute by kicking the decision back to Andreas and his unit.

  Until now, the publisher’s link to the murders had not been disclosed to the public. Nikoletta’s story focused exclusively on the family’s involvement in the illicit antiquities trade. Andreas had no doubt that, once the murders were added to the mix, an already bloody war would turn nuclear, unleashing fevered worldwide media attention upon this modern-day Greek family tragedy and triggering an unimaginable cornered-rat syndrome in the unhinged publisher.

  Whether any of that happened would come down to the decision Andreas had to make by the next morning.

  Once his family left for church, Andreas retreated to his wife’s study to review the evidence, organize his thoughts, and formulate his recommendation.

  Thirty minutes later, the building’s intercom buzzed. It was a call from the doorman.

  “Mr. Kaldis, you have a visitor.” He said the name.

  Andreas blinked. “Is he alone?”

  “Yes. He’d like to see you.”

  Andreas hesitated. “Okay, send him up.”

  He put down the phone, left his wife’s office, shut the door behind him, and went into their bedroom. Inside his nightstand’s bottom drawer, he opened a small gun safe, removed a nine millimeter, racked the slide, and stuck it in the back of his jeans beneath his untucked shirt.

  The doorbell rang as he walked through the rooms leading to the entrance foyer, wondering what the hell this guy was doing here.

  A man in his fifties, wearing an expensive blue suit, white shirt, and red tie, stood outside the apartment’s front door. About Andreas’s height and build, but decidedly pudgy, with a ruddy complexion and dyed jet-black hair, he reminded Andreas of a Greek version of a former Italian prime minister.

  “Thank you for seeing me unannounced, Chief Inspector. May I come in?”

  Andreas stepped back from the doorway and gestured for the publisher to enter. “But of course, sir.”

  He led the man to a sitting room offering a view of the Parthenon. “May I offer you a glass of water? The housekeeper and nanny are off to church, so I’m afraid I can’t offer you much more than that.”

  “No need. I’m fine.” Without asking, he sat in the most prominent chair. “You should exercise better control over your staff. No reason why you should be inconvenienced on their behalf.”

  Andreas forced a smile. “I’ll keep that in mind.” He dropped onto the sofa across from his visitor. “So, to what do I owe the honor of this visit?”

  The man snorted. “No reason to play coy with me, Kaldis. We both know why I’m here.”

  Andreas raised and dropped his hands. “Sorry, but I can’t say that I do.”

  The publisher leaned in toward Andreas. “It’s about that recommendation you’re due to submit tomorrow morning.”

  Andreas showed no reaction.

  “And don’t bother to ask how I know about it. I know everything.”

  “You must have friends in high places,” said Andreas.

  “The highest.”

  “And the lowest too, I suspect.”

  “They all have their usefulness.”

  Andreas wondered how often the man dyed his hair.

  “I’m here to ask you what you plan to recommend.”

  Andreas nodded. “I admire your frankness.”

  “There’s no reason to waste time.”

  “I agree.”

  “Well?”

  “I haven’t made up my mind yet.”

  The publisher first glared, then softened his look. “That’s actually good news. It means perhaps I can convince you to make the right decision.”

  “I assume I know what you think that would be.”

  “May I continue to be frank?”

  Andreas nodded. “Please.”

  “One thing you should know, if you don’t already, is that in Greece I am all powerful. I know where every body is buried, where every scandal lies hidden, and where every prominent person has a pressure point. That means I can weather this round of unfounded accusations manufactured by my enemies and government peasants. And when all this is forgotten—and believe me, it all shall pass—I shall systematically destroy anyone who dared assault my family. Starting with that, that…” he stammered as if running possible adjectives through his mind, “slut Nikoletta Elia.”

  Andreas yawned.

  “Am I boring you?”

  “Not at all. Please, go on.”

  “I don’t think you’re taking me seriously.”

  “Oh, believe me when I say that I do. I was just up early with my children.”

  The publisher glowered at Andreas. “Children are important. I value mine. I’ll do anything to protect them.”

  “I already got that point, sir, so how about getting back to the speaking frankly part?”

  The publisher squeezed the arms of the chair, his face approaching beet-red. “If you make the wrong recommendation, I will destroy you and all you hold dear.”

  “That certainly is frank.” Andreas leaned forward. “But what precisely do you think would be the wrong recommendation?”

  “You have no proof supporting any charges implicating me or my family in any deaths.” He smiled. “All potential witnesses to the contrary have sadly passed away.”

  Andreas smiled back. “If that’s what you think, then why are you here?”

  “I don’t leave anything to chance. That’s why.”

  “You mean you’re willing to sit across from one of those government peasants, begging him for mercy.”

  The publisher yanked himself up to his feet. “I do not beg. I demand. And if you don’t do as I say, I will destroy you and your family. And that includes your crooked-cop friend Tassos, who dealt in the same antiquities trading as you accuse my family. And that’s just for starters.”

  Andreas struggled to keep his cool. He’d baited the publisher into revealing what he had in mind to do, and now that he’d heard, there was no reason to allow himself to be baited by his answers.

  “Frankly, sir, you’re wasting your time. Tas
sos has no fear of anything you might publish. I’d say you’ve got an empty quiver.”

  Spittle flew from the man’s mouth as he responded. “And you’ve got a family to protect. Remember that accidents can happen to anyone, anywhere, anytime.” He stabbed a finger at Andreas. “If you know what’s good for you, Lila, Tassaki, and Sofia, you damn well know what you’d better do.”

  Andreas reached behind his back and squeezed the butt of his gun. “As a matter of fact, I do.” Andreas stood. “I think now would be a good time for you to leave.”

  * * *

  Following his conversation with the publisher, Andreas arranged private security for his family and warned Nikoletta, Tassos, Maggie, Yianni, and Toni, of his threats. Yianni passed along the warning to Popi and her husband, now both back on Naxos.

  The day after the publisher paid his visit to Andreas’s home, prosecutors charged him and members of his family with crimes relating to their illegal antiquities activities, tax evasion, and fraud. They also announced a continuing investigation by Greece’s Special Crimes Unit into five murders potentially linked to the publisher himself. As predicted, the charges set off a second worldwide media explosion and triggered verbal attacks by the publisher on Nikoletta, Tassos, Andreas, and everyone in Andreas’s family.

  In Nikoletta’s new column, granted to her by her new publisher as thanks for his paper’s booming boost in sales and growing international reputation as Greece’s crusading publication of record, she gave no quarter to her ex-boss, starting with an online column titled, “I Defend My Friends.”

  When asked by the press for a comment on the war raging all around him, Andreas would only say, “This, too, shall pass.”

  “So, how do you feel this morning, Mr. Media Star?” said Yianni, sticking his head through the doorway of Andreas’s office.

  “I’d feel a lot better if we had even the scent of a lead on some way to pin the bastard to one of those murders. There’s gotta be something out there.”