Murder On Display_A riveting, stand-alone murder / mystery that keeps you guessing until the shocking end

by Luke Christodoulou

  ‘Don’t bother coming to pick me up. I’ll walk back to the station...’

  ‘You sure, boss? I...’

  ‘I’m pregnant, not disabled and please don’t interrupt me,’ Ioli replied with a steady, strong voice. ‘By the time the boat docks and you get the body to the car and then go to the station, I’ll be there,’ she added and lowered the phone to end the call.

  ‘Sorry. I just...’ she heard Alexandro’s mellow voice. She could picture him with his goofy look and his puppy eyes apologizing. She raised the phone back up to her ear.

  ‘Mama always said be a gentleman, especially to ladies, especially to the elder and pregnant ones...’

  ‘Boy, do you ever stop talking? No need to apologize. It’s just my hormones...’ she began to say before regretting the lie and pausing. ‘That’s no excuse. I’m sorry for being a bitch. On the bright side, there’s nothing you can do about it, so get used to it,’ she continued and Alexandro would swear he could feel her sense of humor in her tone.

  Ioli placed her cell back into her pocket and walked along the narrow pavement beneath dim street lights and among a scent of freshly bloomed jasmine flowers that hung along many blue-painted, wooden fences. The serenity of the idyllic location came to an end as she turned onto the main street and found herself in the middle of hundreds of locals leaving yet another campaign speech of Mayor Stamos.

  Faces of all ages smiled at her as they passed beside her. Others looked on while others whispered who she was and proceeded to give their expert opinion surrounding the murder to whomever was willing to listen. Ioli offered flatline smiles in return as she made her way to the fiberglass podium, placed on the highest step of the town hall’s entrance. Oresti Stamos stood tall and proud, his hand around a stunning, young girl –not older than twenty. Her wide, full lipped smile, her Roman nose, her almond-shaped eyes; Ioli noticed at once that she was related to Stamos, most likely his daughter.

  ‘No wife?’ she thought as she confidently went up the marble steps. She waited for the clicks to die down. Two photographers, in all, and they took multiple shots from multiple angles.

  ‘Mr. Stamos?’

  Oresti Stamos turned and kept smiling his wide smile. ‘Oh, Mrs. Cara. Taking time off the case to listen to election speeches?’

  Ioli flashed a full-teeth, short-lived, fake smile and replied that she had just arrived. ‘I need a moment of your time. You did mention the mayor and the town hall were at our disposal...’

  ‘Of course, of course,’ he replied, placing his hand upon her back and walking her away from the remaining few of his campaign gathering. ‘How is the investigation coming along? Form your case against Adonis, yet?’

  ‘Was your daughter their classmate?’

  Ioli’s question caught him off guard. ‘I... I... Yes, but what does that have to do with anything?’

  ‘Oh, nothing. She just seemed the right age and I know how small schools go. Same age, same class.’

  Stamos nodded in agreement, his eyes still confused on what the police lieutenant standing opposite him wanted. ‘How may I be of assistance?’

  Ioli ignored the question and continued her path of questioning. ‘She seems like such a lovely girl. Was she friends? With Natalie, I mean?’

  ‘Erm, yes. I believe so.’

  ‘Believe? You’re not sure? She never came around to your house? Did you ever meet the deceased girl?’ Ioli threw multiple questions together, her tactic of getting answers from confused minds.

  ‘What has this...,’ he replied, his eyes scanning around to check that Ioli’s words only reached his pair of ears. ‘Am I being interrogated here? Cause it sure feels like it,’ he continued and jokingly loosened his tie and pulled on his beige shirt’s collar.

  ‘Joke or not, you need to let your tie free. You are flushed, Mr. Mayor.’

  ‘Of course not. I know how small islands can be and I know the mayor knows much about the people of his town. So, what can you tell me about Natalie? How was she when she came around to your house...’ Ioli paused to read his expression and continued ‘to see your daughter?’

  ‘Kind girl. Kind girl. Always smiling. Beautiful and polite. Such a shame.’

  Ioli felt she was watching a cheesy, Latin soap-opera performance. At least, she confirmed that he knew Natalie and she visited his house.

  ‘Who knew Adonis had it in him?!’

  ‘Hmm, yes,’ Ioli replied and nodded. ‘And, where was your daughter last night?’ she asked, watching his eyes open wide while his trimmed eyebrows turned into facial rainbows. ‘You see, Natalie was not where her mother believed her to be and we have to check with her friends about possible whereabouts.’

  ‘My daughter was at her aunt’s watching a movie with her cousins. They were not that close, I doubt she would know where Natalie was.’

  ‘Out for the night, then. And, you?’

  ‘And me, what?’ he asked, crossing his arms across his broad chest.

  ‘Home alone? I don’t see a Mrs. Stamos...’

  ‘My wife is away on business. She maintains her law office in Naxos. She takes on cases across the Cyclades... You know, I’d like to know what you are getting at, lady...’ he said, whispering angrily, his hands lowering, coming to his side, both clenched together in fists. His Rolex watch and his gold bracelet rattling as he moved.

  ‘A bit of a temper you got there, mayor.’

  Ioli remained still as he stepped closer. ‘I am a very peaceful man. I do not like being provoked and election season is very stressful. That wretched Helen is gaining voters by the day. I love my island and I need another term to make all my dreams for this island come true. Folegandros is slowly becoming a dynamic tourist destination with nothing to be jealous of, by Mykonos and Santorini...’

  ‘Save your passionate election speeches for people who vote here, Mr. Stamos. Temper and stress combined with the possible gossip of an affair with an eighteen-year-old girl... whoo,’ Ioli said, exhaling deeply at the end. ‘Now, that’s a lot of heat, hotter than this damn heatwave.’

  The mayor’s breathing became louder and his hands once again formed fists. ‘You believe these idiots that have nothing better to do than talk shit about me? Get serious, lady...’

  ‘Call me lady one more time and I will make sure that that shit you claim becomes common knowledge around here.’

  ‘You have some nerve. Our police have arrested the guilty party. Pack your bags. I’m calling your supervisor and complaining about your attitude and for harassing me with stupid accusations...’

  ‘Accusations to which you haven’t provided an answer. I saw your face outside her mother’s house and that sorrow was not from losing a precious voter. Natalie talked about you. You and your Rolex. Sleep tight, Mayor. Our paths will surely cross soon.’

  Mr. Stamos shook his head, his thick, short-cut beard swung side to side. His hands relaxed, his eyes returned to their normal color and size and he blew out air. ‘You’ve got it all wrong, Lieutenant. We are a peaceful, loving community with good, old family values. Just because a kid whose brain does not allow him to know better committed such a terrible crime, does not mean you get to accuse us for all the sins in the book.’ It was the first time Ioli felt she was hearing his true voice. Not his mayor’s voice, not his macho voice nor his angry voice.

  ‘How wonderful you make everything sound. But you know what Mr. Stamos? You could take a pile of shit and call it chocolate pie, yet it will still be crap. There’s been another murder. Your island is not as innocent as you paint to be. If Adonis is guilty of killing Natalie, then it would seem like you have another killer on the loose. Or maybe, the real first killer is covering up his tracks? Maybe a lover with too much to lose... like an upcoming election.’

  All of Mr. Stamos’ facial muscles took the route of gravity as he mumbled a question about who had died. Ioli had already turned around and began walking back to the police station. She knew well that he would not risk talking louder or following her for answ
ers as dozens of potential voters still lingered in the picturesque square.

  While Ioli quickened her pace and opened a little bag of cute, colorful Gummy bears, trying to shake off the adrenaline rush of her heated discussion with the mayor, the wooden, fishing boat with the faded, chipped paint arrived in the peaceful bay of Karavostasi. Upon it, was the chain-smoking, in his late eighties captain, Alexandro, Valentina and a body bag with what remained of the shoemaker’s corpse. Not all of him could be scrapped off the rocks.

  Alexandro had just gotten off the phone with Dr Jacob, the coroner. He informed him that they had another body and that they would be requiring a clean-up crew for the scene on the rocks below the caldera. Multiple curse words came through the receiver, all being muffled by the chicken sandwich being devoured by the medical examiner at that moment. ‘I hell am not coming out in the heat tomorrow to collect another body. And, I don’t care if God himself asks me to do it, I surely am not going to collect pieces of tissue and shit off rocks below the fucking cliff. I’ll send out a team of rookies. Practice makes perfect, my boy,’ he added, somewhat more calmly than his first reaction. ‘By the way, I have sent my initial report via the station’s fax. Nothing really exciting, but Ioli’s mind has the ability to produce results from the smallest details. Oh, and the lab sent their report, too. None of the fingerprints lifted from the roof matched Adonis or any other set in the system,’ the chatty doctor continued and then hung up without waiting for a reply to anything he had just said.

  ‘Wow, that guy can talk fast. More than your average Greek,’ Alexandro said, tucking his phone into his front pocket. ‘Unlike you, whose tongue has been kidnapped by an island street cat,’ he said after a short pause. Valentina sat silently on a nailed-to-the-deck, ready-to-crumble-into-pieces bench, her eyes following the pacific waves moving endlessly towards the moonlight.

  ‘Huh? Yeah, yeah. You’re right. He talks too much,’ she mumbled as she saw him staring at her and turned her eyes away.

  ‘I enjoyed our...’ he began to say. Alexandro pondered if she could not hear him clearly due to the feverish howling of the wind or if she was ignoring him. His instincts drove him to the latter.

  ‘I really did enjoy our kiss...’ he said, this time sitting right next to the quiet woman.

  ‘Oh, my God. Seriously? This is the time to talk about it? As we are going to unload a splattered dead guy and throw him into the back of my car? I already feel like a fool, please do not add ‘utter idiot’ to the list. This is unprofessional and...’

  ‘And I thought the coroner talked speedily,’ he said and chuckled in anticipation if it was one of the times his humor alone would save him.

  ‘Please, don’t joke.’

  ‘Please, don’t let all the shit around us stop us from getting to know each other.’

  He placed his waxed hand upon hers- Alexandro never shied away from being a new age metrosexual guy, he waxed all his upper body and even shaved his Greek, hairy legs during the shorts-wearing summer. Her hand was cold, frozen-food cold.

  ‘I know, it was a spur of the moment kiss, and yes, out of place and under our working-circumstances, a bit out of order, but aren’t those the fun moments in life? I truly do find you interesting, and beautiful and I would love to get to know you better after all this is done with.’

  Valentina smiled for a second upon hearing his compliments, then, her lips travelled down and she pulled back her hand. ‘Bet a sweet-talker like you gets to bed a lot of girls in the big city. I might have dreams of getting off this tiny rock and going somewhere big, but my values will always remain those of a small village girl. No way I’m sleeping with a guy that’s here on the island for three days -tops.’

  Alexandro sat up straight. ‘Wait, who said anything about... You’re surely rushing ahead. I said nothing about... You are judging me based solely on stereotypes. Just because you have been burnt in the past...’

  Valentina stood up and walked to the railing, watching as the boat floated sideways and hit the dock.

  ‘What past? You know nothing about girls like me. Guess you don’t have any twenty-six-year old virgins in Athens, huh?’ she asked and hopped off the boat.

  The dock was quiet. Only swarms of mosquitoes buzzing around the lamp posts and a pair of old sea dogs, fishing on its end, their aging feet and rods hanging from the pier. A perfect time to carry a body bag and avoid gossip which in small, island communities, spreads faster than wildfire in dried up grass.

  ‘Back seat or boot?’ asked the English-Greek Captain who had long regretted agreeing to taking the two officers to pick up a dead body. The only dead things he was used to carrying down the dock, were fish and octopuses.

  Valentina paused for a second. The trunk seemed disgraceful while the back seat of her car gave her the chills. It did not seem like a healthy option either in her Dettol-wiped back seats. ‘Trunk?’

  The two men were sweating from every skin pore possible. Neither argued nor agreed. Alexandro popped open the trunk and in Mr. Sakis went.

  Neither spoke during the ride back to Chora. Alexandro knew very well from experience when a woman did not want to hear another word. The stressful situation was not helping him either. He would win her over gradually.

  ‘A Greek hunter never gives up,’ he thought, and his trademark grin came to life as he felt like an alpha male.

  Chapter 12

  Ioli slowed down her pace. As her heart rate returned to more normal beats per minute, her brain started registering the aches from her swollen feet, her sore lower back and an unexplained, aggressive migraine. She turned right by the local post office and paused to catch her breath. Just then did she realize her surroundings. To one side every little street ran to the caldera, revealing a magnificent view of the moon travelling above the lit up Aegean sea, while to her other side, the narrow roads ran to the town square, where under dozens of lights hanging from tree to tree, locals and tourists enjoyed fine Greek dishes and local wines. The magical sounds from the band playing added to the ideal night out.

  ‘Mark would love it here,’ she thought of her quiet introverted husband. The doctor loved small, quiet, simple environments. The big city did not suit him well. Like Ioli he was a proud Cretan raised in a scenic village, among the rough lands of Crete. Ioli, whose love for her job helped her bare the difficulties of the big city, often feared that with a baby on the way, Mark would propose to return to their island.

  ‘Maybe one day, definitely not now.’

  She hardly noticed that she had begun walking again. Lost in thought, she reached the last century building with the Corinthian entrance, also known as the Folegandros police station.

  Her eyes went from the empty parking lot to Mrs. Sophia sitting patiently on the doorstep, two plastic shopping bags by her side. Her hair danced in the night breeze coming down from the north and shone silver under the moonlight. Shadows travelled across her deeply wrinkled face as she slightly rocked back and forth, moving in and out of the light.

  ‘Good evening, Mrs. Sophia,’ Ioli said, approaching her, hoping that Valentina would return soon to handle Adonis’ grandmother. She had to inform Mr. Sakis’ wife and question their son about his relationship with Natalie and his whereabouts at the time of her murder.

  ‘Good evening, dear. Hope you don’t mind, I brought some chicken and peas for Adonis. Valentina probably fed him a kebab like she does with the tourists or local hooligans, she has had spending the night here. His mother used to feed him takeaway crap all the time. I always cook for him,’ she said, standing up with difficulty. ‘I, also, brought him his pyjamas and his night light. I saw there was a plug in that hole of a room,’ she added, picking up the bags.

  ‘Come in,’ Ioli replied, not commenting on all the old lady had to say. Thankfully, Valentina had given her the spare key to the heavy door. Ioli’s left hand ran up the wall in search of the light switch. As soon as light spread out into the cavernous room, Ioli noticed the packet of straws lying next to the c
offee machine. Ioli walked over and straightened it, tidying the jars of coffee and sugar in a row. She knew she would not be able to concentrate with the messy shelf staring at her.

  ‘Sit down for a moment,’ Ioli said, patting the old-fashioned armchair as she walked past it. She went straight for Valentina’s pine-wood desk in search for the holding room key. Ioli cringed at the officer’s notes. All neat and tidy with little hearts above the I’s and suns sketched in the corners of the pages.

  ‘Another hopeless romantic.’

  ‘What’s that, dear?’ Mrs. Sophia asked, having just managed to settle down in the soft-backed armchair; her pitch black dress in contrast to the purple chair with the golden lines.

  ‘Nothing, just talking to myself,’ Ioli replied, speaking louder this time. She had just discovered the key in the second drawer when she noticed the paper sitting in the fax tray with Athens Metropolitan Police logo printed on top. ‘Jacob’s report.’

  ‘I used to talk to myself, too. A lot back in the days after I lost my husband. I would go over again and again how to help my daughter with her drug addiction. My heart broke at the thought of Adonis being with her. But, God always finds a way. I know it’s a horrible thing for a mother to say, but her death was mercy to us all. To herself, too. She was beyond saving. Only the Lord could save her from her sinful ways. Adonis grew up happy with me here. He is such a kind soul...’

  Mrs. Sophia continued with a breaking voice, her usual praise for Adonis. Ioli listened and nodded, throwing in the occasional aha between her nods. Her eyes ran down the medical examiner’s report.

  ‘... time of death: between midnight and two o’clock... death resulted due to extensive blood loss... first stabs to her back... signs of intercourse (nothing violent)... stabs to her thighs and genitalia were post mortem as was the cutting off of her breasts and beheading... contents of stomach: pork and vegetables... took a blood sample, will take days to get back results for a full tox...’