Greek Island Mysteries Boxed Set (Books 1-2-3): Gripping, psychological mystery/thrillers destined to shock you!

by Luke Christodoulou

  ‘‘Bronze tanning oil all day long equals a sexy Amy,’’ she laughed at her brother’s disapproval look whenever she was flirted and/or kissed by a guy in one of the many loud and populous bars and clubs they visited. He knew he had no right to complain as the three made a deal before arriving on the island. No judging. All three were single twenty-five year olds and they were there to have fun.

  Both guys wore their swimming trunks and brown beach sandals. Patrick was wearing a flowery red shirt opened up to reveal his hard earned six pack while Conor did not bother covering himself. Patrick was carrying in one hand the nylon bag with the snacks and in the other a case with eight Corona beers while Conor was carrying the important bag as he claimed. Three extra large Guinness beers, a bottle of Jameson whiskey accompanied by a bottle of coke and a pack of plastic cups were the components of the important bag.

  The three of them walked down the bricked path past their blue and white hotel and headed down to the beach. Besides an elderly couple that were packing up to leave there was no one else on the beach. The three sat down in the sand at a spot that was provided with partial light by a nearby street lamp. Goods were placed between them and soon alcohol was running through their veins. As the moon moved along the night sky their singing got louder and their stories got funnier and more personal.

  Up above behind them was their hotel so they had no worries as to be in shape to walk back to their rooms. The Mykonos beach hotel was a two star, traditional Cycladic style bungalow complex. The many sky-blue and bright-white bungalows were spread out across the hillside overlooking the beach of Megali Ammos. Between the bungalows, wild flowers and bushes had grown and added to the hotel’s charm. Little did Patrick, Amy and Conor know that during all their fun two green eyes were lurking in the distance behind an overgrown bush. Two eyes that had been following them around for the last two days. A predator waiting for the right time to attack. An aggravated predator that had not fed in days.

  ‘‘Alright boys! That’s enough for me,’’ Amy said as she managed to stand up. ‘‘I wanna get up early tomorrow and head over to Super Paradise in the morning. A girl’s gotta work on her tan before heading back to cold, miserable Dublin!’’

  The boys both smiled, thinking that she was driving them mad with her tanning obsession and chuckled at her Dublin comment. If there was a committee for proud Dubliners, Amy would surely be president. They both watched her stumble her way up the path towards the hotel. As soon as she arrived at the first bungalow, she turned and waved, sure that her men would be keeping an eye out for her. Patrick and Conor waved her good night and continued drinking. Amy continued past the bottom line of bungalows whose occupants were either asleep or out clubbing. Everything was dead quiet. She walked along the path towards her bungalow and that is when Amy noticed something laying in the center of the light circle formed by the hotel’s overhanging path lights. She smiled as she got closer and suspiciously looked around her. She was alone. Alone with a fifty euro note. Right there on the path, just outside her bungalow. Sleepy and a step away from drunk, she stopped and stood above it, rapidly closing and opening her eyes in an unsuccessful attempt to help her brain focus. With a naughty look across her face, she clumsily bent down and picked up the note.

  Suddenly, the bush behind her shook and Amy felt something like a needle pushed hard against her neck and a hand covering her mouth and nose. Amy felt the will to stand up and resist as the needle penetrated her skin, but all the courage and all the reaction she thought she would have in such a situation went for naught. In a matter of seconds she felt her whole body go numb and she soared to the ground. Fear instantaneously ran through her body and she screamed out loud or so she thought as no sound broke the silence in the air. Her eyelids grew heavy and started to descend, covering her amber eyes. The last thing she saw was a shadowy figure towering over her. And then, total darkness.

  He looked down at the motionless girl and sat on his knees beside her. He gently stroked away her hair from her face and faintly kissed her on the lips.

  ‘‘My Artemis! I have waited a long time for you. You and I are going to have so much fun together,’’ he whispered tenderly in her right ear before lifting her up and throwing her across his shoulder. He walked through the darkness as fast as he could yet being careful not to run. His excitement-caused sweat thinned out and was swept away by the calming Sirroco breeze. His boat was waiting for them, further down, in the next small bay. Luckily for him, no one was to be seen. No need for his fake smile and his rehearsed line of ‘‘that last shot of Tequila was too much for her.”

  He walked into the water and struggled his way up to his boat. He threw the girl into the boat and climbed up himself. His blindfold and his rope were waiting for him. He tied up the girl’s arms and legs real tight with a double nautical knot, blindfolded her and stuck a curled-up sock in her mouth before passing a red cloth over her mouth and tying it hard behind her head. She probably wouldn’t wake up any time soon, but he was not the type to take chances. He had to leave her alone. He still had to catch Apollo. He frisked the girl and found her Blackberry fastened to her left thigh by her pareo. He looked through her contact list and was pleased to find only one listing of a Conor. That is what he overheard her call her twin brother.

  He dashed back to his lookout and was glad everything was going as planned. Both boys had fallen asleep on the beach.

  ‘‘Let’s hope he hears it,’’ he wished. He took out the girl’s phone and grinned. He hated texting on Blackberries and their tiny keyboards.

  Conor, hey…

  Can you please come up to my room please… alone…

  Don’t wake Patrick up… it’s important… we need to talk.

  He pressed SEND and eagerly waited to see movement from the drunken youth. He had already placed the fifty euro note in the same spot with a portion of Blutack on its back.

  ‘‘Come on, Apollo, come on,’’ he whispered enraged by the idea of changing his plans. He knew he was choleric yet he had to maintain his cool. This was not the time or place for mistakes. He decided to risk the boy’s phone having an annoying and loud hip hop song as a ring tone and pressed CALL. Silence. And still no movement. The boys had passed out for good.

  He stood up, looked around him and crept towards the blue railing of the path that led down to the beach. The moon had hidden behind a lonely, dark cloud providing him with shadows of darkness in which he could move unnoticed. Not that there was anyone around to notice him, but you could never know what eyes may be lurking behind curtains of closed windows. He ran back and picked up his note and went back to his bush. He attentively filled his trusted syringe with more of his horse sedative mix and hung his backpack on his right shoulder. He casually strolled down to the beach, with his eyes moving rapidly side to side. He had to appear like just another tourist passing by as he headed through the open and down the well-lit path. He did not need any testimonials from witnesses that a strange man was loitering around the premises. As soon as the darkness of the beach consumed him, he swiftly sneaked over to the boys and sat down between them. He took in a deep breath and proceeded to give an 8ml shot into Patrick’s right arm. Patrick grunted twice, but remained motionless.

  ‘‘What the…’’ Conor started to say and placed his hands in the sand, gathering the strength needed to get up. The thief, as he thought, rose quickly and jumped on his back, pushing him into the sand. He grabbed Conor violently by the hair and twisted his head to its side. In a matter of seconds the same 8ml cocktail was flowing through his neck’s carotid artery. Conor fought to get up, but soon felt drained of power. His eyelids fell and he closed his eyes, replacing his will to fight with a need to sleep.

  Conor was carried along the same path in the same manner as his sister and soon found himself tied up in the same manner, right next to her. The boat engine roared as the Olympus Killer turned the key and with vast satisfaction written all over his face, he set off for the uninhabited island of Delos where no
soul was allowed after dark. The 3.34 square kilometer island was home to a great number of archaeological sites and the Greek government decided not to allow any kind of tourist infrastructure on the island. At night, the island was closed to the general public. He smiled evilly at the thought of having all night with the twins.

  He looked down at his vintage Rolex Air King –a present from his stepfather-and smiled at the perfect timing. The coast guard had just finished the late night round and the coast was literally clear. He followed the Delos-Mykonos sea road and soon his Enavigo 38 Racer was between Delos and the micro-island of Mikros Reumatiaris. The small docking bay was minutes near. He felt his blood moving around faster through his body as his heart raced at over one hundred beats per second. The adrenaline rush he felt each time he was about to kill had become his opium. He turned off the boat’s engine and drifted towards the dock.

  He had another three more hours of darkness before sunlight and the arrival of the island’s museum guides, ready to welcome the morning’s archaeological thrilled tourists. All guides agreed that the first on the island were always the ones most interested in the sites. Those who were amazed by the island’s history and felt the vibe it sent out. Midday came the worst. The families and the young couples. Parents that strolled through the ruins disciplining their offspring, interrupting the guide and bringing them just about to his or her breaking point and of course complaining about the heat wave. Children that followed them with a PSP in hand, asking, ‘‘how long will this take?’’ and when were they getting back to Mykonos that waited for them with its sandy beaches, luxurious pools and Greek homemade, delicious, mouth watering ice-creams. Couples that pretended to listen to the guides and took photos for their profiles every now and then, but were mostly involved in lip locking and body grabbing. The day’s work finished with the elderly, who as charming as they were, asked too many questions and complained about the lack of shade, the dusty air and the guide’s fast-paced walking.

  He unloaded the unconscious and now nude twins in the same manner he would have thrown any other cargo off the boat. A few bruises were nothing compared to the nightmare that awaited them. He dragged naked Amy by the feet all the way up the dirt track and leaned her sitting down upon an ancient column of Doric order. He took out another piece of rope, passed it round her chest and behind the column. After tying her tightly to the column, he skipped back down to the dock to fetch Apollo. He whistled The Lazy Song by Bruno Mars as he followed the same procedure with Conor as he did with Amy. He had also removed all of the boy’s clothing and stored them in the bottom draw of his tall, metal file cabinet that he kept on board, below deck. He squatted opposite the tied up twins and ate his fresh, green apple eagerly waiting for the departure of his victims from dreamland.

  Conor, though drugged second, awoke first. He felt dizzy and struggled to lift his head and slowly open his eyes. The dark, shadowy figure sitting opposite him came forward revealing himself under the moonlight.

  ‘‘You! You’re that guy from the club. What the fuck man? I said no and you fucking kidnap me?’’ Conor started to shout at the man opposite him, who kept on eating his apple as if nothing was reaching his ears.

  ‘‘Where the fuck are my clothes? Let me go!’’ Conor yelled and wrestled with the ropes that were holding him prisoner.

  ‘’Conor?’’ Amy’s languid voice was heard. She felt drowsy and confused as to why Conor was shouting.

  ‘‘Amy?’’ he asked in shock and turned his head to face his sister. Panic kicked in for good. He thought his sister was in her room. Why was she here? And why was she naked too? Fears of his sister being raped ran free inside his head.

  ‘‘Now, listen here, mister, you leave my sister out of this, this is between me and you…’’ he firmly threatened the stranger.

  ‘‘It was always about you both,’’ the stranger hissed as he came forward on all fours and grabbed him by the neck, choking him.

  ‘‘Help! Somebody help!’’ Amy screamed at the top of her lungs as she witnessed life being squeezed out of her brother.

  ‘‘Let him go. Please… We’ll do anything you want. Please don’t hurt him. Please,’’ she begged.

  Conor gasped for precious air when the stranger eventually released his throat. His evil laugh filled the cold air and his next words froze Amy’s entire body.

  ‘‘No one can hear you scream my goddess, but I do have a tendency of awful migraines. Scream again and I’ll kill you first,’’ he whispered calmly in her ear.

  ‘‘Kill? First?’’ Her eyes opened wide and she began to breathe hectically, trying hard to fight back tears.

  ‘‘Stay away from my sister, you freak!’’ Conor ordered with hate.

  ‘‘Well, well, well…. Isn’t this lovely? You both want to protect the other. Touching. Now, whose fingers do you believe I will be cutting off?’’

  Amy shrieked repeatedly for help at the sight of the unknown man taking out of his backpack a pair of steel, diagonal pliers and grabbing Conor’s hand.

  ‘‘Please sir, please… Don’t… Stop!’’ Conor shook his head side to side. He felt the cold blades of the pliers cuddle his thumb.

  ‘‘Don’t stop, you say?’’ he laughed as he closed down the pliers and enjoyed their combined screams and frantic cursing.

  ‘‘One down, nine to go,’’ he joyfully announced as Conor’s finger fell to the ground.

  The next ten minutes were the longest of their lives. As he cut the last of his fingers, Conor lost all will to struggle. Blood dripped from his hands as he sobbed in sorrow over his lost fingers. He could not bear to look down at his mutilated hands.

  ‘‘Next!’’ he shouted and ecstatically danced over to Amy.

  ‘‘No… God… Please!’’ she wailed.

  ‘‘God? God can’t save you now! I killed your father back in Crete days ago!’’ he laughed.

  ‘‘My father’s in Ireland! What? How? Tell me what you have done with my father, you bastard! Answer me!’’

  He had no time to explain. He grabbed her by her hair and tilted her head to the side. He stared at her neck veins all tensed. He kissed the blade of his companion knife and stabbed her ferociously in the neck. Her whole body started to shake rapidly as the knife continued its journey of beheading.

  ‘‘Amyyyy,’’ Conor cried out not believing what he was witnessing. This nightmare could not be true. He longed to wake up back in his warm bed in Ireland and shake off this sick dream he was having.

  But the nightmare continued. The stranger approached him walking slowly, carrying Amy’s head in his left hand.

  Conor closed his eyes and turned away in terror, in disgust, in grief. All will to live, had abandoned him.

  ‘‘Kill me now… please.’’

  ‘‘Your wish is my command, Apollo,’’ he said and stabbed him in the neck. Blood sprang out high into the air. The feeling of blood on his face aroused him. He licked drops of blood from the corner of his mouth and howled in joy as he cut through the boy’s neck.

  He picked up Amy’s head and a large rock and walked down the path towards the ruins of Artemis temple. There, in the middle of the temple, he placed the head and with all his strength he started to beat it in with the solid rock. After a dozen or so manic hits, he stood up and looked down upon his creation. A crescent moon shaped head soon was laying in the dirt.

  ‘‘One of a kind!’’ he proudly said.

  He danced back to Conor singing to himself.

  ‘‘I’ve got the moves like Jagger..’’ he kept on singing as he collected all ten fingers into a small nylon bag and picked up Conor’s head.

  Apollo’s temple was up ahead, a few minutes to his left. He glared at the temple’s entrance –the only columns left by time to stand-and spat with no saliva on the ground. He walked through them and slowly walked to the center of the temple. He carefully placed the sun head on the ground and one by one he laid all ten fingers around it as sun rays.

  ‘‘Perfecto!’�
�� he whispered and loudly released a long breath. He had succeeded. The twins were dead. One by one the Gods were dying. Soon he would be free.

  *****

  Chapter 18

  There we were. Sitting up high on the Venetian rock walls –or what was left of them-enjoying our pita gyro. I had ordered a pork gyro with everything that should accompany the chopped up meat while Ioli ordered a chicken gyro with just tomatoes. I even ordered extra fries, which I had placed on the wall at my side. Ioli, proud of her home town and with good knowledge of its history, was informing me about the Venetian lighthouse that rose out of the untamed, deep blue, tumultuous waters right in front of us. Chania’s port is a small graphic place with unique and colourful architecture. Yet, its beauty was not enough to calm us and fight off our disappointment and our irritation for failing to bring The Olympus Killer to justice. As I had predicted, the title was picked up by the Greek media and I had earned myself another twenty minute rant by the chief.

  “… though heavily bombed during WWII, most buildings…” Ioli continued reciting her history lesson as she leaned over to grab a fry or two. I humorously slapped her on her wrist and warned her “You my tomato-only friend are a fry-thief and these are mine!”

  “Fries! Why don’t you just call them chips like the rest of the world?” she joked as tzatziki dripped from my gyro down my shirt.

  “Serves you right. Didn’t they teach you in New York’s kindergartens to share?’’

  “Shit… It was my last clean shirt,” I admitted. I did not expect on staying more than four-five days. I had thought that I would pop down to Crete for a couple of days, check up on the case and be back in Athens giving my report to the chief as to where I believed the case was at and where it should focus on. Maybe even be as lucky to crack the case and bring justice to the loved ones of the victims.