To be completely honest, though intrigued by the mysterious lack of evidence, I did not deposit much of my time into the case. I had a pile of paperwork to attain to before my paper tower surpassed Piza’s as the world’s tallest leaning tower, I had two court appearances to prepare for, and I preferred cases closer to home. The butchered homeless man behind Omonoia’s square was far more deserving of my attention.
Ioli though needed to silence her gut. She began investigating places the billionaire could be. And with her known determination, fast forward forty-three days later, and we were set for the spear-shaped island of Rhodes.
Chapter 3
The crisp winter night succeeded the short, rainy winter day and Valentina returned home, hungry, exhausted and soaking wet.
‘What a shitty day,’ she said as she kicked off her black shoes, offering much-needed relief to her swollen ankles. ‘That’s how honest money is made, Valentina,’ she mimicked her father’s deep bass voice. New to the force, she was the lowest ranking officer on traffic department’s totem pole. With the austerity measures holding back any hope for new recruits, she knew well that long shifts and busy streets would always be assigned to her. She also knew that in today’s Greece having any sort of job was a blessing, so Valentina kept her whining to herself.
Closing the heavy door and leaving the outside world behind her, her eye caught a glimpse of a shiny, magnolia envelope that lay on the scratched, laminated flooring. Bending down, she picked it up and flipped it around. Fancy, bold red letters covered its side.
Hotel Murder.
‘The mystery weekend experience of a lifetime,’ Valentina read the smaller subtitle. The next line though was the one that caught her attention. ‘Congratulations! You have won a FREE stay. Please open.’
Valentina’s red nails slid into the paper, ripping the envelope open.
‘Congratulations,’ the letter wished once more.
‘You are holding one of the thirty random invitations to the grand opening of Hotel Murder. This is an ambitious project, looking to make its mark on Greece’s tourist map. A remote hotel, with five-star amenities, upon a majestic Greek Isle. With multiple actors and a devilishly, cunning mystery, it is destined to entertain you.
For our first weekend, we have decided to offer thirty lucky winners a FULLY FREE stay. No strings attached what-so-ever. No hidden charges. Free transfer from Rafina port, free stay, all meals and drinks 100% free, and free participation in the mystery. All we want is your opinion.
So, what are you waiting for? Bring your PLUS-ONE (also FREE – yes, the boss has gone crazy!) to Rafina port on Friday 2nd of December, 16:00 sharp. Return to Rafina, Sunday night.
Still a disbeliever? Too good to be true?
Call for inquiries: 01 3478 9812.’
Valentina read the letter twice. Too good to be true’
She placed the envelope on her prized possession, an antique coffee table, similar to the one her Nana had in the house she grew up in, back on her home island of Folegandros. She rubbed her shoulders and walked into her bedroom. A hot, steamy bath was all she could focus on for the time being. She shed off her work clothes and slid into the shower. Water dangerously close to boiling point attacked her skin, providing warmth to her body. She spread coconut shower gel across her neck and chest, sniffing the mesmerizing aroma.
Fifteen minutes later, she drifted into the kitchen, comfortable pyjamas covering her relaxed, slender figure. Now, all she needed was a good, strong Greek coffee to complete her after-work nirvana. With the blinds up, Valentina curled up on her bright magenta sofa and, with her coffee entrapped between her warm fingers, she stared out at the rain. Soon, the first sips travelled down her, warming her from the inside. Unwound, her attention fell to the Hotel Murder invitation.
Alexandro would love it, she thought. Men and their mystery stories!
She must have heard over a dozen times, Alexandro’s retelling of how he cracked the case at a murder/mystery dinner in England while visiting a cousin. He was only eighteen at the time. Now, a homicide officer, she could picture him diving in and analyzing everything. She thought the whole idea sounded corny, but then again, the things women do for their men. And with that thought, she guzzled her hot beverage and took her phone into her hands.
One beep, two beeps... ‘Hello?’ a fruity, youthful voice came through the receiver.
‘Er, yeah. I found an invitation under my door... Hotel Murder?’ she asked.
‘Congratulations! Welcome to an experience of a lifetime...’
And the horrific acting begins, Valentina could not resist thinking and interrupted the eager-to-inform employee. ‘Yes, yes. So, it’s completely free?’
‘One hundred percent, ma’am. Just bring your invitation and if your invitation specifies it, your plus-one. The ship will be expecting you at 16:00 sharp, Friday 2nd of December.’
‘Yes, I’ve already read that part. What island is the hotel on?’
‘That is part of the mystery,’ the surely-under-twenty-five-year-old man said.
‘You serious? We won’t know where we are heading?’ Valentina said, bringing her knees up to her chest, placing her cold feet under the couch pillows.
‘Rules of the management. They want to avoid people intruding the weekends. The storyline begins the moment you set foot on board. It will be an amazing...’
‘Yeah, yeah. I’m sure. Okay, count us in. What details do you need for the reservations?’
‘None. Just bring your invitations. Your identities and back-stories will be provided by a member of staff. See you on the dock next Friday. We are dying to meet you. Pun intended!’
Oh, God. And the nightmare begins’
Alexandro and his muddy boots came home an hour later. Valentina stopped him at the door with a passionate kiss and a warning about his footwear.
‘Mmm, what smells so freaking good?’ he said, his droopy, Greek nose opening its narrow nostrils like a hound dog on a mission. ‘My baby been cooking?’ he inquired as his arms reeled her closer and his wide hands explored her rear.
‘You wish. After the day I’ve had, you’re lucky I got up to greet you,’ she replied, the corners of her lips travelling upwards. ‘I ordered pork chops from that tavern you talk about more than me...’
‘Meat Castle?’ he interrupted her, his voice climbing the decibel scale fuelled by excitement and an empty stomach.
‘That’s the one,’ Valentina replied as she was raised up into the air. Alexandro lowered her gently and laid a forceful kiss on her slightly cracked-from-the-cold lips. Nothing that a few drops of virgin olive oil could not fix; Valentina remembered her mama’s home remedy.
‘Love truly does pass from the stomach,’ she said and laughed as Alexandro rushed to the wooden IKEA table.
Valentina enjoyed their dinner time - her favorite time with Alexandro. A workaholic and a ‘gymaholic’, his appetite was greater than any man she had ever met. She watched him over their candle-lit meals as he relished all sorts of meats. Valentina was not very fond of the kitchen, while he was an able cook. The nights he did not ‘create’ –his verb for his cuisine masterpieces- Valentina prepared something simple along the lines of spaghetti or burgers, or ordered from an array of choices. Neither of them was a fussy eater. With delight, she witnessed him calm down from his hectic day and smiled as he retold his daily adventures; she even laughed at his rather unamusing jokes.
Finally, plates were licked clean, and the last drop of Merlot travelled down his throat.
‘I’ve got another surprise for you,’ Valentina said, and an enigmatic smile came to life below her round, glover-green eyes.
‘What’s that, babe?’ he replied, relaxed with his voice tone carrying the vast satisfaction his body was experiencing.
‘Next Friday, you and I, a murder/mystery weekend on an island. What do you say to that, mighty detective?’
Alexandro tilted his head slightly to the right and studied his girlfriend with the same mann
er he ‘read’ suspects down at the station.
‘You for real?’
‘Realler than your love for Olympiakos,’ she replied, unable to control her high-pitched laughter. ‘God, talk about murdering proper grammar.’
‘That’s, err, great,’ he said and got up to take his vacant plate to the sink.
‘Why so unenthusiastic?’ Valentina inquired, picking up the hesitant color in his words.
‘No, no, Don’t get me wrong. I just... well, not to sound like a party pooper, but can we afford this? I mean, Christmas is just around the corner, and I paid for all that shit to be fixed on my car last month...’
‘Ssshh,’ Valentina said, walking over to him and placing her index finger on his moving lips. ‘You worry too much. Stress will be the death of you. I know our financial capabilities well. I won this weekend. It is completely free.’
His face lit up and his eyes opened wide. ‘Seriously?’
‘Yep, all-inclusive. Will not cost us a dime.’
Valentina swore that all the neighbors heard his cowboy yell of celebration and the loud kisses he placed on her lips and neck.
An hour later, Alexandro exited the shower, dried off and remained naked as he climbed into bed next to her. Valentina kept her eyes glued to her romance book, yet could not concentrate on the words blurring up before her. She knew well what was coming. His hands teased her by invading under her bedtime T-shirt. She turned to look at him. She loved that goofy expression; his mischievous grin upon his flushed face. He knew all her buttons. In seconds, Nora Roberts fell to the floor, followed by her underwear and purple T-shirt. His tongue, travelling from her belly upwards, sent shivers down her spine and shook her inner core. Though her only lover, Valentina believed they had great chemistry. When in her, she felt sexier than any romance heroine. Later, she drifted off to sleep in his broad arms, beaming and content. Soon, both departed for dream land and visions of a spectacular and bewildering mystery weekend came to life in their mind’s inner cinema.
Chapter 4
With relief, I felt the police ferry swirl upon the restless Aegean Sea and gradually come to a halt, gently hitting its side upon the soft, pitch-black, truck wheels hanging from the cracked cement pier. The ‘non-tourist’ pier needed no color nor decorations. Used only by local fishermen and the coastguard, it paled next to its big brother, the impressive harbor of Rhodes; welcoming some of the world’s largest cruise ships.
The calendar read December, and both harbors stood relatively silent. The mayhem of summer was a distant memory set to replay all over again in a few months.
My feet settled on solid ground. My stomach took longer. The icy winter breeze of the sea caressed and chilled my skin. I breathed in the fresh air and smiled as Ioli jumped off the ferry and landed beside me.
‘What’s wrong, boss? Sea nausea?’ she asked, her hands fixing her silky, black hair back into a high ponytail. ‘I hope not. You’re scared of planes; I need you to cope with ferries,’ she continued without waiting for a reply.
‘Yeah, yeah. Tease the old guy. The sea was rough, today. I love the ferry, don’t I?’ I asked, turning to comically stroke our trusted boat.
Ioli refrained from commenting, rolled her eyes and paraded down the deserted pier.
‘How’s little Icarus doing?’ I managed to ask, short of breath as I ran to catch up, closing my brandy-brown jacket right up to the last button. The last thing I needed was a cold.
‘The little terrorist of love has put us in Christmas-mode. Can you believe it? Me. Decorating the house with bright lights, putting up a tree and buying him a shit-load of toys?’
‘It happens to the best of us,’ I replied with a smile. ‘I know you hate the whole jolly season, but deep down, you secretly crave for it. We all do, and a kid is the perfect excuse.’
‘The woman next door said the same. She misses her kids as babies. Kids grow faster than weeds, she said, and just like weeds, they find themselves in places they shouldn’t be. Just wait till he begins to walk, she warned me. Oh, the joys that await me,’ Ioli continued, rather out of her normally quiet self. I guessed long hours at home, alone with an infant makes you chatty.
Ioli was still talking about her son as we entered the rental-car shop, located next to a closed-for-the-winter ice-cream parlor. Further down the quiet street, an alluring cafe with its chairs situated between two burning-bright fireplaces was the only other shop with signs of life. A hot-chocolate mixed with coffee sounded divine. Maybe on our way back.
The senior lady behind the tall, glass counter welcomed us with a bored grunt of ‘Good morning’ and with a push of her sleeper-wearing feet, she rolled back with her office chair towards the wall decorated with numbered car keys. Watching her fill in the needed paperwork was duller than watching olives being picked by my Aunt Toula. With a flat line smile on her downcast face, she handed us the necessary key and a few unnecessary words of advice on how to drive safely.
‘Giving birth took less time,’ Ioli joked as she sat in the passenger’s seat and cracked her knuckles. Shortly, we were driving through the old, dark-ages-built part of the city of Rhodes. The impressive castle walls ran up to the cloudy sky on our left while deep, dark blue sea filled our view to the right.
‘Jelly baby or gummy bear?’ Ioli asked, waving her two small bags of candy. She had already eaten two by the time she offered me one.
‘Neither, thanks,’ I replied, still searching for my favorite radio station.
‘Can you see the village?’ I asked Ioli as I stopped at the next T-junction. Multiple signs stood before us, the letters hard to read due to sprayed-on football slogans. An unwanted gift by the local hooligans.
‘There,’ she replied, pointing at the metallic tree of road signs. ‘Kamiros Skala, thirty-one kilometers. Turn right.’
Ioli sat with her hands folded in her lap and her gaze focused on the sun rays dancing upon short-lived, loud waves. My attention remained on the narrow, country road unfolding before my tired eyes. Late nights and early mornings were not something my five-decade-old body was willing to put up with. At least, continuously. I never did have trouble sleeping. Even through my life’s plentiful stressful situations, I slept like a cub in its mother’s paws. Now, with nothing major to bother my mind, I seemed to find it impossible to turn off the voices and fall peacefully to Morpheus’ land. I don’t know about sheep, but I can number the lighting-shaped cracks on my bedroom’s ceiling and walls. I could even number the times I felt guilty for craving a cigarette. All. I quit so many years ago and still yearn to feel a bud on my lips and smoke journeying down my throat. But a promise is a promise. I swore to my daughter that I would never smoke again and with her in Heaven watching down on me, I would not let my sleepless boredom win and disappoint my Gaby for a harmful, brief pleasure. I thought about pills. I thought about drinking. Both dangerous ideas with my addictive behavior.
‘You’re awfully quiet, today.’ Ioli’s smooth voice interrupted my galloping thoughts.
‘Just tired, I guess,’ I replied as I turned off the main artery and entered a neglected country road. A few scattered houses broke the natural background of stubborn, twisted olive trees, wheat fields and trees filled with bright-yellow lemons. No souls lingered on the neglected sidewalks or in the flower-filled gardens. The smoke twirling out of the brick chimneys revealed that their tenants hid from Boreas’ icy blows. The thin mist gathering in the valley was not inviting either.
‘Can I take a wild guess on the house of Thanasis Zampetides?’ Ioli asked with a grin and a raise of her thin eyebrows.
A country manor stood out of the rest. At least, the part of it that was taller than the brick wall and the sky-reaching pine trees that were planted on the inside, along the wall. The impressive gate still looked grand, though rusty. No smoke exited from the four chimneys that came into view as I brought the rental to a halt, feet from the gate. Ioli opened her door and paused at the sight of shallow muddy puddles.
‘Let me ho
p out and open the gate...’ I began to say, ready to put the gear into P.
Ioli slightly shook her head. ‘No, Peppa Pig’s got this. At least, it isn’t raining.’
I watched as she plodded among the watery minefield and pushed back the heavy gate with ease. I slowly drove up beside her and waited for her to wipe her navy-blue Jodhpur boots with a lavender-scented baby wipe. The broad gravelled driveway sliced the vast, neglected garden into two. The mansion, though in better condition than the surrounding grounds, showed signs of abandonment. The hot summers in alliance with the cloudy, rainy winters had attacked viciously the house’s once-white paint. The wood-work suffered, also.
‘You still sure we are going to find something here?’ I dared to ask as I stepped out of the car and approached the wooden front door.
‘Only one way to find out,’ she mumbled in reply and pressed the doorbell button.
An irritating buzzing sound echoed from inside the house. We waited in silence. Ioli pressed again.
‘What happened to nice, friendly ding-dongs?’ I commented upon hearing the awful buzzing sound once more.
‘Okay, a walk around the house it is,’ Ioli said and trudged off, checking every window as she went. Each of them, tightly locked. I rubbed the frost and dirt off the windows, yet nothing was visible inside. Thick, burgundy curtains hid the stomach of the house well.
Thunder called out to us, warning us of the intentions of the gathering clouds above. Sunlight weakened, and shadows grew stronger. Thankfully, the back porch door was unlocked. Ioli took the cold handle into her leather glove and pushed back the door.
Hotel Murder: The most gripping, page-turning mystery of the year (Greek Island Mysteries Book 5) Page 2
