Sons of Sparta: A Chief Inspector Andreas Kaldis Mystery

by Jeffrey Siger

  It took a bit of acrobatics and the strength of three men to pull the boulder, rope, and body out of the sea and onto the stretcher in the same configuration as they’d gone in, and all six men shared turns lugging the stretcher back to the police van. The answers to who, how, when, where, and why about his uncle’s murder might lay with that body, and Kouros wasn’t about to let it out of his sight. After arranging for his cousin to get his mother back to Athens, and for a uniformed cop to follow in his car, Kouros jumped in the van taking Babis’ body to Sparta.

  If this were truly the suicide it appeared to be, and his cousin meant what he’d said, the risk of vendetta ended with Babis’ death and there would be no war in the Mani.

  That was the good news.

  Actually, as Kouros saw it there really wasn’t any bad news, just disappointment on his part that he never had the chance to ask Babis one question: Why did you send my uncle such a weird death threat?

  Chapter Fourteen

  Andreas usually got to work each morning by eight, a bit before Maggie and way before Kouros. Today he found company sound asleep on his office couch. He slammed the door shut. “Rise and shine.”

  Kouros shifted slightly on the couch. “Humans aren’t meant to be up this early.”

  “Maybe, but you don’t fit the profile. You look like shit.”

  “Nice to see you too, Chief.”

  Andreas sat behind his desk, picked up the phone and dialed. “Morning, it’s Kaldis….Yes, the usual, but double the order, I’ve got company.” He hung up.

  “What’s for breakfast?”

  “Enough coffee to make you bear a closer resemblance to those ‘humans’ you’re rambling about.”

  Kouros swung his legs off the couch, sat up, and stretched out his arms. “By the time I got back to Athens from Sparta it was almost sunrise and I figured if I went home I might oversleep.”

  Andreas nodded. “And being the dedicated public servant that you are you decided to crash on my couch.”

  Kouros nodded. “Precisely.”

  “In other words, no clean laundry at home.”

  Kouros yawned and waved an open palm in Andreas’ direction.

  “You did some good work, Detective. Your family should be proud.”

  “Thanks, Chief. My cousin Mangas actually sounded relieved when I told him the coroner concluded there was no question Babis had killed himself. He said it would make it easier to convince his sister.”

  “What’s there to convince? The local cops found candle wax in the kitchen and a vial of the poison that killed your uncle hidden in the storeroom. Open and shut that he did it.”

  Kouros nodded. “I know. But Mani women with their instincts can be quite difficult to convince with just facts. Especially my cousin Calliope.”

  “Trust me. It’s not just Mani women.”

  Kouros smiled. “And she doesn’t even know about the death threat on the back of my uncle’s newspaper. I still can’t figure out why Babis wrote something like that if he was pissed off at my uncle for screwing his girlfriend.”

  “Yeah, it bothered me, too. Remind me what the note said.”

  “‘Your father took his sister’s and her lover’s lives to preserve our ways. We shall take yours to save our Mani. You have one week to change your plans or die.’”

  “Sounds like the sort of radical bullshit notes we get from Molotov cocktail-tossing anarchists around Parliament. I didn’t know they were active in the Mani. Thought that was royalist country.”

  “Maybe Babis did it to give himself a cover story if after the murder it came out that my uncle had been sleeping with Stella. Without that note and the follow up SMS, he’d be a prime suspect.”

  “Too bad for Babis your uncle kept the note and SMS to himself.”

  “And I’m not about to tell anybody about them now.”

  “It all fits. With you breathing down Babis’ neck and the vendetta story nowhere to be found, he checked out rather than risk your cousins doing it for him.”

  “But what still doesn’t fit is that Babis needed my uncle’s protection from the crew he’d crossed up in Pirgos. So why would he kill him and risk losing that protection?”

  Andreas shrugged. “Maybe he thought they’d given up on going after him or jealousy overran good judgment. Happens all the time, especially where a woman’s involved.”

  Kouros nodded. “It just bothers me.”

  “Would an all-out war in the Mani bother you less? Everyone’s satisfied we have the killer. Let’s leave it at that.”

  Kouros stared at Andreas. “This doesn’t sound like you.”

  “Of course it does. You’re just too close to the situation.”

  Kouros’ stare turned into a glare.

  “Is there any doubt in your mind that Babis killed your uncle?”

  “No.”

  “Do you have even a hint that anyone else was involved?”

  Kouros looked away. “No.”

  “Because if you did, I’d be right beside you looking to cut off any other responsible bastard’s balls.

  “But while we’re on the subject of frank talk, let’s be realistic. This wasn’t the murder of an ordinary, law-abiding Greek citizen, where further investigation would be welcomed by the victim’s family as police thoroughness. He was the head of a major criminal enterprise whose family would take it as a sign of more bad guys out there. More who should die.

  “And, yes, before you say it, it’s possible Babis did not kill out of jealousy. Perhaps it was a hit getting back at your uncle for who knows what sort of grievous sin he’d committed. But the bottom line is we’ll never know. Accept that, consider the case closed, and take solace in knowing your family will be spared further bloodshed and that the lowlife who killed your uncle is dead. Which is far more justice than your family would ever get out of his hide under Greek law.”

  Kouros raised his eyes and stared at Andreas.

  “Yes?”

  “So, where’s breakfast already?”

  ***

  The remains of breakfast sat on paper plates and cups atop Andreas’ desk and Kouros lay asleep on the couch when Maggie popped her head in the doorway. “You have a visitor.”

  “Who?”

  “Your friend, Petro.”

  “Send him in.”

  Maggie stepped into the office, closed the door, and began gathering up the plates and cups. “No reason to let the poor boy think you’re just as big a slob as every other cop. And what’s with Sleeping Beauty over there?” She tossed the rubbish in a wastebasket in a corner of the office behind Andreas’ desk.

  Andreas picked up a tiny replica soccer ball from his desk and lobbed it at the back of Kouros’ head. “Mama says it’s time to get up.”

  “I don’t have school today.”

  “Let’s go boys,” said Maggie, “you have to make a good impression.”

  Kouros rolled over and sat up. “On who?”

  “The kid from headquarters security I told you about. The one who’s keeping an eye on Orestes for me.”

  Maggie opened the door to the office. “Come in, son.”

  As Petro entered, Maggie stepped out, closing the door behind her.

  “Good morning, Chief.”

  “Morning, Petro. Do you know Detective Yianni Kouros?”

  “Only by reputation. We’ve never actually met.” Petro put out his hand to Kouros.

  Kouros shook it. “Pleased to meet you.”

  “Sit, please.” Andreas gestured to one of the chairs in front of his desk. “So, what news do you have for me?”

  “Last night, at about one in the morning, Orestes came into the club with three men I’d never seen before. One Balkan type, one likely from the Ukraine, and a Greek.”

  “How could you tell?”

  “From
their Greek accents. I heard them talking in front of the club before they went inside.”

  “What did they say?”

  “Just bullshit about how they were hoping to find some ‘hot pussy.’”

  Andreas frowned. “That’s it?

  Petro smiled. “That’s all I heard. But I knew there was no way I could ever get close enough to Orestes’ table to hear what they were saying. So I had a friend do it for me.”

  “How’d you do that?” asked Kouros.

  Petro turned his head to face Kouros. “A working girl. Reminds everyone of the American actress Sofia Vergara. She owes me. I look out for her when she’s inside so that no one gets rough with her. All she had to do was walk by Orestes’ table once, smile at the ugliest guy with him, and she had a place of honor on his lap for the rest of the night.”

  “They let a hooker sit with them while they talked business?” said Andreas.

  “The ugly guy wouldn’t let her leave. Even tried to get her to fly back with him to Kiev on his private jet.”

  “Did she go?”

  Petro gestured no. “She’s smart enough to know that too many pretty girls in the Ukraine end up as slaves in the sex trade.”

  “Was he a bad guy?”

  “Not sure about the Ukrainian, but the Balkan guy with him had bodyguard written all over him and was a certified, grade-A hard-ass. The type with hands covered in prison tattoo tears, one for each of his kills.”

  “Braggart,” said Kouros.

  Petro laughed. “Don’t know how many were real, but he sure looked the part and acted like a pro. Later, I had to stop him from dragging the girl into Ugly Guy’s limo and Bodyguard didn’t give me any lip, just his best ‘I’d kill you if I had the chance’ glare. Lucky for me there was a crowd in front of the club or he might have tried.”

  “What did she tell you?” said Andreas

  “That it was hard to follow their conversation. They sounded like characters in a gangster movie talking about things they all knew and didn’t want or need to use specifics. Lines like, ‘About that thing down there, the one with the problem. We got to make it work before the other guys kill our deal.’”

  “That could mean a lot of things,” said Kouros.

  “Or nothing,” said Andreas. He picked up a pencil and began tapping it on his desk. “What about Orestes? What did he say?”

  “He didn’t seem to know the foreigners and spent most of his time trying to impress Ugly Guy with his political clout. The other Greek guy seemed to know Ugly Guy and be more in tune with whatever was going on. This looked to be Orestes’ introduction to Ugly Guy. Greek Guy kept saying how Orestes was the person Ugly Guy needed to ‘make things work’ in ‘building their first step’ toward monopolizing a business ‘guaranteed’ to make them all ‘fortunes.’”

  “What kind of business?” said Andreas.

  “Didn’t say, but they all seemed to know what it was. When she sensed they were about to get into specifics, Ugly Guy sent her off with Bodyguard to ‘powder her nose for the trip.’ That’s when Bodyguard tried forcing her into the limo and I had to explain to him the available long-term housing provided courtesy of the Greek state for those who tried to abduct its citizens. He let her go and she took off. She called me later to tell me what happened.”

  “That’s it?” said Andreas.

  “She thought the other Greek guy might be a politician, because he ‘kept kissing ass.’”

  Andreas studied Petro’s face. “So we have some presumed Greek politico trying to convince a monied Balkan type that Orestes had the necessary political contacts to make them all a hell of a lot of money. Sounds like business as usual for Orestes. It’s what he does for a living.”

  He’s given me nothing, thought Andreas. Could Orestes have reached him, turned him to find out what I’m up to? A bit of a coincidence that those subpoenas to companies on Orestes’ list went out late yesterday afternoon, and Petro was in his office this morning with news.

  Andreas leaned forward. “Did anyone mention anything about subpoenas?”

  “What subpoenas?”

  “The ones tied into that crew from last night’s plans for Crete.”

  Petro blinked. “Crete? Who said anything about Crete?”

  “Isn’t that what this is all about? Orestes’ interest in making money from Crete’s gas discoveries.”

  Petro shrugged. “Maybe, but the girl never said anything to me about anyone mentioning Crete. There was a mention of the Peloponnese, but that was it on naming places.”

  Kouros suppressed a yawn. “What about the Peloponnese?”

  “The Greek guy told Ugly Guy that he and Orestes could help him with his plans on building something down there.”

  “What sort of plans?” said Andreas.

  “Don’t know. All she heard was that they’d fallen through when the property owner died a few days ago in a car accident.”

  ***

  Petro left Andreas’ office with instructions to return ASAP with photographs of Orestes’ three companions taken off a security camera mounted outside the front of the club.

  Andreas told Petro to tell the club owner that if he refused to cooperate, Andreas would personally arrange for a half-dozen uniforms plus a representative of Greece’s special tax squad to be at his club every night, photographing every customer until either they found the three they were looking for or the place ran out of clients.

  Petro suggested it might be easier if he didn’t bother the owner, but simply used his key for the club to get inside and copy the photos himself.

  “Clever kid,” said Kouros.

  “Kid? You’re not much older than he is.”

  “My time in this unit has aged me far beyond my years.”

  Andreas waved his hand in the air at Kouros. “So, what do you think? Is the ‘kid’ shooting straight with us?”

  “I wasn’t sure until he dropped the bomb about the accident,” said Kouros.

  “Hell of a coincidence if it’s your uncle’s accident.”

  “More like a miracle if it’s not.”

  Andreas nodded. “I’m a big believer in not trusting coincidences, but how the hell could it be anything else?”

  “We’ll know the answer to that when he gets back from the club.”

  “My instincts are he’s legit.”

  Kouros nodded. “Mine too. Any idea on how to ID the mystery guys with Orestes?”

  “There’s always a shot with Europol or even our own records department. But maybe we’ll get lucky and recognize them, at least the Greek.” Andreas paused. “Just to increase our chances…Maggie.”

  The door swung open. “Yes?”

  “Is Tassos in Athens?”

  “He’s at my place cooking and cleaning while I slave away at police work.”

  “Please ask him to get over here as soon as he can. We need his help.”

  “Can it wait until he’s finished doing the windows?”

  Andreas waved her off. “The two of you deserve each other.”

  Maggie smiled. “By the way, what should I tell Petro’s boss from headquarters security who just called to ask—and I quote—‘Who the fuck does your boss think he is assigning my men to do work for him without my permission?’ End quote.”

  “What did you tell him?”

  “That I’d pass along the message.”

  “Good. Tell him, quote, ‘The same guy who two years ago caught you with your literal fucking pants down in the middle of a vice bust on a low-end whorehouse on Filis Street and let you walk away.’ End quote.”

  Maggie smiled. “That should do it.” She closed the door.

  “Did you really?”

  “The idiot didn’t even know he was on top of a hooker on the top floor of an Albanian drug-cutting operation. He was still pounding away on her wh
en we broke down the door.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “You can’t make this stuff up.” Andreas leaned across his desk toward Kouros. “Which brings me back to our little coincidence of last night.”

  “Meaning?”

  Andreas sat back in his chair. “Meaning it looks like it’s time to get back to work on your uncle’ s case.”

  ***

  Tassos came through the door into Andreas’ office without knocking, dressed precisely as always: dark suit, dark tie, and white shirt. “I worked hard to be entitled to dress this way,” was his only explanation to any tieless, jacketless cop who asked why he dressed so formally no matter what the weather or occasion.

  Tassos plopped down on the couch next to Kouros, grabbed Kouros’ thigh, and squeezed. “Nice job you did down on the Mani. Your uncle would be proud.”

  “Thanks.”

  Tassos looked at Andreas sitting behind his desk. “So, what’s so important that you dragged me away from doing my beloved’s windows?”

  Andreas stared at him. “She told you to say that, didn’t she?”

  “Who am I to question the ways of my beloved?”

  Andreas dropped his head and shook it. “Okay, let me tell you where we are.”

  It took about fifteen minutes to bring Tassos up to speed, and just as he was explaining his potential concerns about Petro, Maggie opened the door and popped in her head.

  “Petro is back.”

  Andreas said to Tassos, “Any questions?”

  “No, I get the picture. Send him in.”

  Andreas nodded to Maggie, the door opened, and Petro walked in.

  Andreas introduced him to Tassos and motioned that he sit in the same chair as he had the last time, directly across from Andreas. “Do you have the photographs?”