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

by Luke Christodoulou

  “Forcing me?” she laughed as she sat in the car. No one had ever forced her to do anything in her life. All successes and all failures were all due to her own doing.

  Knossos was a majestic city that was once one of the greatest of the known world. The palace of mighty king Minoas was envied throughout ancient Greece. It was king Minoas, who ordered Daedalus to build him a vast labyrinth in which he placed his enemies’ greatest terror, the Minotaur. However, as all great empires, it was doomed to be defeated by time. Decades turned into centuries and the city lingered into dismay and soon the ruins of the once great city were covered by dust only to see the light of sun in 1878. Today, the whole city is Crete’s most visited tourist site. Flocks of tourists defy the heat and walk through the city’s gates and head on up to visit the palace and its exquisite throne room.

  Ioli had visited the site many times in the past. First with her parents, then with school, the third time with family visiting from the mainland and then again with her high school. She did not expect to learn something new but then again, she was in the company of a history professor. She enjoyed the way he held her hand and guided her through the city with his map in hand as he recollected all his knowledge from his studies. His excitement was obvious and Ioli admired people who loved and were passionate about their job. If only her mind would let her relax. Costa popped in her head now and then as guilt kicked in for leaving him alone. More guilt built up as she thought of her grandmother. She tried to distract her thoughts by focusing on the sun rays caressing Michael’s golden blond hair.

  “I’m I boring you with too much history?” he asked smiling.

  “No, of course not.”

  “You seem a bit distracted…”

  “Oh, it’s nothing. My lieutenant’s mind has trouble switching off.”

  “I hope it switches off later on. I am taking you out to dinner tonight, Miss Cara!”

  “Are you now?”

  “Yes. I have already booked!”

  “Where are you taking me, Mr Johnson?”

  “It’s a surprise!”

  “I hate surprises,” she admitted. She truly did. Her mother always retold the story of how she planned a surprise party for Ioli’s 8th birthday and how Ioli walked through the door, froze in shock as all her friends jumped out and shouted surprise and how Ioli ran into her room, crying from the rush of the excitement. She finally came out and enjoyed her party though she did make her parents promise her no more surprises.

  Michael just flashed his white teeth at her and walked on with a smile ranging from ear to ear. He had planned a magical night for her, but one phone call changed all that. On their way back to Chania Ioli’s phone rang.

  “Hello?”

  “Ioli? It’s Costa. How’s your grandmother?”

  “Thank God, she’s fine. Just has to take it easy from now on, you know.”

  “That’s good to hear. I had a debate with myself and concluded that if your grandma was not well I would not tell you the latest.”

  “We’ve had a breakthrough?”

  “More like a quantum leap… the killer turned himself in half an hour ago at a police station in Athens…”

  “You’re fucking kidding me, right?”

  “I’m taking the next boat out; can you make it by tomorrow morning? The chief wants us to be the first to interrogate him.”

  “I’ll look for flights as soon as I get home,” she replied and rain started to fall hard on Michael’s parade.

  *****

  Chapter 27

  Minutes before my call to Ioli

  I sat alone in the cubicle of an office that Douka hardly used. The walls begged for a touch of fresh paint and the furniture cried for retirement. Little did I care as I went over the case files and the findings of the team while filling up my lungs with my good old poison, Marlboro Lights. Ioli had just left, on her way to Chania’s district hospital and I could smoke without her judgmental look. Four cigarette buds occupied the round, greenish glass ashtray and soon a fifth came down to join them.

  I looked up at the wall clock that hung tilted to the left, calculated the time difference and picked up my cell phone to call Jimmy.

  “FBI, how may I help you?” the female voice said in an upper Midwest accent.

  “Erm…” she had caught me by surprise.

  “Sir?”

  “I was calling on agent Jimmy Miler’s cell?”

  “Agents that are unavailable tend to switch their cells to the main operator. Who may I say is calling?”

  “Costa Papacosta.”

  “Concerning which matter?”

  “Err, just tell him my name.”

  “Please, hold.”

  A horrific modernised version of a Bach -or was it a Mozart-symphony started to play as I was forced to hold.

  “Costa, my malaka, long time no hear,” Jimmy’s familiar voice brought a smile to my face.

  “How you doing, bro?” he continued with obvious excitement colouring his fruity voice. Jimmy never accepted the fact that I did not plan on returning to New York. He blamed himself for not really being there for me after Gaby’s death as he was busy with a shit-load of cases as he put it. There was nothing he could have done to make me stay and I wish he would realise this in time.

  “I’m fine, Jimmy. How are Cecilia and the boys?” I replied, feeling good to hear him again.

  “Fine, fine. All is how you left it. So how’s your holiday in Greece going? Keeping busy?”

  “I actually may be up against my most difficult case yet,” I said and gave him a synopsis of the case and explained how I needed his help to find out who had purchased the golden mask and to check if anyone from Mrs Blair’s list had left the States in the last month.

  “So is this Ioli single?” he asked after I had finished with all the details of the Olympus Killer’s case.

  “Jesus, man. Out of everything I said that is what you focused on?”

  “What do you want me to say? The things you asked for are easy and of course I’ll help. Now I am more interested in you. This is the first person in Greece you sound like you are fond of…”

  “I am. Not in that way though. That would be the last thing on my mind.”

  “You are too young to retire from women,” he argued back.

  “She has a boyfriend,” I replied to get him off my back.

  “Really?” he said in disbelief. “You don’t sound sure.”

  “She met him on the case. An American professor on holiday named Michael Johnson. They said they will be meeting up again.”

  “Do you hear how not serious this all sounds?” Jimmy continued, sure I was interested. Maybe I should have gone light on the praise for her during my case description.

  “What’s that noise?”

  “Listen, I gotta go. Chief’s calling me on the second line. Call me if you find anything out.”

  “Will do bro, take care.”

  I pressed the ‘switch call’ button on my cell and raised it back to my ear.

  “Papacosta?”

  “Yes, chief?”

  “Bill Aggelopoulos just walked into a police station and gave himself up.”

  “Mr Rich? For what?”

  “He claims to be the Olympus Killer. Now pick up your jaw up from the ground, get that young lieutenant of yours and get your asses in Athens. You will be interrogating the suspect first thing tomorrow morning.”

  *****

  Chapter 28

  Hundreds of reporters, local and international, had already gathered outside of police headquarters in Athens. Tens of minivans with all sorts of antennas and dishes on top, illegally parked, formed a line all the way down to the hectic traffic lights. A significant police force stood on the steps leading up to the building’s main entrance as a warning to whoever may try to breach the building. The news of Mr Rich turning himself in had spread like wild fire in a hay field and had caused a media frenzy like no other in Greece.

  “Bill Aggelopoulos, the riches
t man in Greece, turned himself in today at Syntagma Police Station. We are here live outside police headquarters…” a brown eyed, petite reporter was saying.

  “… no official statement has been released and rumours are running wild…” another continued.

  Further down a boisterous, beautiful brunette was finishing off her report with “Could Mr Rich be the Olympus Killer? The public would be in disbelief if the news came just a year ago. However, after his wife’s unexplained suicide and his withdrawal from public life, Bill Aggelopoulos has not been the same. Stay tuned for the latest.”

  A lifetime channel next to her was listening in and soon went live with a report how Bill Aggelopoulos went crazy with grief over the loss of his gorgeous wife and was being interrogated for the crimes of the Olympus Killer.

  We stood opposite watching as the hyenas quarrelled between them for a better spot.

  “Ever been here before?” I asked Ioli.

  “Once. They brought us on a day trip back in my academy days.”

  We easily crossed the busy road as all cars slowed down to see what all the commotion was about. Buses were making strenuous efforts to reach their destinations in time as reporters had even parked in the bus lanes. Not so easy was the passing through the technicians and their black wires and it took us a few minutes and a few dirty looks before we managed to head towards the entrance. The security guards prepared to intercept us and I even saw some fingers head for their triggers as I put my hand in my pocket to pull out my identity card.

  “Captain Papacosta and Lieutenant Ioli Cara,” I declared and smiled a good morning as we passed through the opening provided by two officers who stepped aside.

  We placed our guns in the small, white plastic basket and stepped through the metal detector. There, the chief’s charming secretary greeted us and informed us that they were waiting for us, second floor, conference room one.

  I knocked on the heavy wooden door and before receiving a reply I opened.

  “Ah, here they are,” the Chief said, standing up.

  “These are the officers in charge of the case,” he continued and introduced us as he brought us to the center of the room in front of the long table.

  “Full house,” I thought looking across at our audience. The Minister of Public Order, the Minister of Justice and the spokesman from the prime minister’s office stood out amongst other important public figures and police majors.

  We were bombarded by questions from the get-go. None of my sentences managed to reach their end as I was constantly interrupted for clarifications, judgmental suggestions and questions on how we planned to proceed.

  “Do you believe he did it?” the domineering minister of Public Order asked first.

  “It is not a matter what I believe; it is a matter of finding the evidence to support…”

  “Of course he did. He admitted it, didn’t he?” the serious-looking spokesman of the prime minister asked.

  “People say many things. For a case to stand up in court, we will need to…”

  “The Captain is right. We cannot risk any chance of this getting thrown out of court. Do you understand what this is doing to our already fragile economy? He owns some of the biggest companies in the stock market. Since yesterday they all took a dive and soon they will be swimming at the bottom of the ocean,” the extroverted, sensible minister of Justice told them with a worried cloud darkening her eyes.

  “Maybe I am a bit ignorant about the whole process, but he is not a suspect, he is not being blamed by someone else, he said he did it. He has admitted being the Olympus Killer. Chief, this needs to be wrapped up as soon as possible,” the bald, stocky Minister of Public Order said raising his voice.

  “We will know more about what we are dealing with after interrogating the suspect…”

  Once again, I was interrupted. I gave up on the idea of finishing verbally any of my thoughts and stood still watching them discuss the matter between them.

  “Is it true he has given up his right to be represented?”

  “Really? I thought we would be up against an army of top notch solicitors!”

  “Doesn’t that shout guilty?”

  “Well, he had the means to do the crimes. He owns God knows how many yachts and boats.”

  “And it is not like he has an every day ‘9 to 5’ job and he was missed at the office.”

  “What do his house employees say about his whereabouts?”

  “Doesn’t he have a son somewhere?”

  “GossipTV should know everything by now.”

  After forty long minutes, the Chief finally spoke.

  “Gentlemen and lady,” he smiled at the Minister of Justice “we appreciate your time and fully understand your concerns, but the officers must be on their way now. I am sure we will have more to tell you after the interrogation. Trust me; you will be kept in the picture all the way.”

  As the three of us stepped out of the room, the chief exhaled deeply.

  “Quick, follow me before the sharks get hungry again. They have been driving me mad since yesterday. You think the media outside is bad, you should see what is going on at Syntagma police station.”

  He talked as he trudged towards the elevator’s door. I glanced at his right leg that seemed to be holding him back.

  “Stop staring, Costa! My hip had been working double shifts, that’s all!” he growled. “Now you’ve gone and interrupted my thinking. What was I saying? Oh, yes. Thank God, we had him transferred from there before the reporters’ arrival,” he added. The crisp sound of a bell signalled the opening of the elevator doors.

  “Transferred?”

  “Yes, to another police station. No one knows,” he lowered his voice and pressed the button to the basement.

  A black minivan with tinted windows and opened doors was parked down below. The driver did not move a muscle as we climbed in and as soon as the doors closed we were on our way.

  “Agios Dimitrios police station. Take the back roads and park behind the station,” the chief ordered the driver.

  “So you’re the bright young star I’ve been hearing about?” he threw the question at Ioli.

  “Just doing my job, sir.”

  “Hmm, modest too,” he commented and picked up the phone to order the suspect to be taken to the interrogation room.

  “I’ll speak to him first. Five minutes. Then he is all yours. I want all loose ends tied up. This is a case that can make or break careers. Get everything from him on tape. Confessions to every murder, to every move, to every word.”

  “We also need the murder weapon. I want proof, not just words.”

  “You don’t believe it’s him?” he asked with his small eyes rapidly moving side to side, reading my every expression.

  “He could be and he could not be. Everything is possible. You taught me that. For this case to close, I need him to provide hard, cold, undisputed evidence.”

  In his holding room, Bill Aggelopoulos sat alone with his thoughts counting the cracks in the pale wall. He was not used to staying still. He never sat in the same spot for more than an hour, which made business meetings odd or interesting, depending how his counterparts took it. Most attributed it to billionaire’s bizarreness, but truth be told, he could never sit still. He worked long, endless hours, both day and night to succeed. Every time he accomplished one goal, another was already set. He could hear Christina’s voice joking that he was a shark and he would die if he ever stopped swimming. Now, he wondered what it all was for. He looked up upon the sound of the thick metal door being pushed open.

  “Stand up and turn and face the wall,” the towering officer commanded.

  He obeyed and stood there as a second officer entered the room and handcuffed his hands tightly.

  “Is this really necessary, officers? I have shown no signs of…”

  “Be quiet! Save your talking for your interrogation.”

  “Interrogation? I have already given myself up and pleaded guilty.”

  “Sile
nce. Walk.”

  “Great. More sitting!” he thought as they ordered him to sit and used a second pair of handcuffs to cuff his right leg to the chair. Both exited the room without saying a word and he was alone again. He looked around at the lack of colour. Freshly painted white walls, white chairs, white table. In contrast, the video camera and its tripod in the right hand corner were black. The intense fluorescence light was tiring to his eyes. He closed his eyes and held them closed until hearing the door open. He rubbed his eyes as the chief entered the room. He stood opposite Bill and placed his hands steadily on the table.

  “Mr Aggelopoule, I am Giannis Iordanou, Chief of the Hellenic Police. The two investigators in charge of the case will be with you shortly. I consider you a clever man and I know you realise the damage that will be caused if for whatever reason you are lying. The damage to the economy, to the victims’ families, to our chances of catching the man responsible for these vicious crimes. So I have one question and one question only; are you the Olympus Killer?”

  Bill looked at the chief straight in the eyes and answered a simple “Yes”.

  The chief exited the room saying no other word. Through the left opened door, Ioli and I walked into the interrogation room and sat opposite him.

  “My name is Costa Papacosta. I am a Captain with the Hellenic Police. This is Lieutenant Ioli Cara. I am going to be interviewing you today, Monday the 12th of August, 2013, in relation to the murders of Eric Blair, Stacy Anderson Blair, Alicia Robinson, Conor O’Brien and Amy O’ Brien. The entire interview will be video-recorded and both officers present will be taking notes purely for our own references. Is this all clear to you, Mr Aggelopoule?”

  “Yes, very clear. Please call me Bill.”

  “Please state your full name and your date of birth for the camera.”

  “I am Vasilis –Bill-Aggelopoulos, born in New York in 1973.”

  “Can you please confirm that you understand that anything you say here may harm your defense and may be used against you later on in court? Anything you say can be given in as evidence. Do you understand?”