‘I don’t need another psych evaluation,’ I snapped. Dr. Ariadne was my evaluator when I arrived in Greece two years ago and asked to join the police force here. With my background as a homicide detective in New York, a murdered daughter and being a lonely, unsociable divorcee, it came as no surprise being sent to the good, old head doctor. Eight sessions on and Dr. Ariadne deemed me fit for duty.
‘This is not an evaluation, Costa and you know it. It is just typical procedure when a Police Captain throws his computer out his office window,’ her reassuring, smooth, sweet voice flowed through the space between us and calmed me down. ‘You saw tens of dead bodies all at once. It is OK that you were upset,’ she continued, maintaining the same tone.
‘I was upset for not solving the case!’
‘Do you always solve the case, Captain?’
‘No. This is real life. Not a movie or a book where an ending is needed.’
‘Do you feel that this case needs an ending? Do you need closure?’
‘The case is closed. That’s closure… I just wished I had figured it all out sooner. Perhaps, I could have saved them.’
‘Don’t beat yourself up. I understand it is a pyrrhic win for you, but keep in mind, you save lives every day in your line of duty. Just last summer you made headlines by bringing the Olympus Killer to justice. You saved your partner’s life and protected many others.’
I smiled slightly at the thought of my partner, Ioli. I had not seen her since she returned to Crete. She received three months leave with daily physiotherapy recommended. After Christmas, she would be back in action. She was being transferred to Athens where we would be officially teamed up by the chief. Homicide division for the Greek Isles.
‘Ioli was cleared by her shrink,’ I hinted.
Dr. Ariadne exhaled deeply. She stared straight into my brown eyes for a good minute. ‘Let’s make a deal. I clear you today and whenever you need to be cleared again, and you agree to cut the tough guy act and come visit me once every fifteen days.’
I started to form an argument in my mind, however, one single word came out that surprised us both.
‘Done.’
Chapter 2
A month ago…
CASE No.1: The White Horse – Conquest, Evil, the Antichrist.
Salamina Island is one of the closest islands to Athens; 2 km away from the main port of Piraeus. That is everything I could tell you about the place before November 21st came to existence. It was a typical morning, with me holding in my beer belly as I drank my third morning coffee, surrounded by mesomorphic, Herculean-build police officers down at the department. I nodded my head as they complained about the ongoing economic crisis and how they barely made ends meet.
One phone call changed the dull day.
‘Captain? You are requested on line three. Possible murder case on the Island of Salamis,’ police officer Andrea Loukaki informed. I swallowed my coffee in one quick, sloppy sip and headed towards the phone located somewhere on my junk-yard of a desk.
‘Captain Costa Papacosta.’
‘Good morning, Captain. This is Police Sergeant Jason Galanos. A body, male, was reported found in a trench near Batsi beach forty minutes ago. I am at the scene now. The body seems to have been stabbed several times and from what I can tell, has been out here quite a while. I cannot get closer as the body is too far down. I have contacted local rescue workers to assist…’
‘I’m on my way. I’ll be picking up the coroner too. Secure the crime scene. Photograph everything, touch nothing.’
I walked out of the station’s back door and exited into the vast parking lot. Excitement fuelled my pace and before I could dial the coroner’s number, I was standing beside my car. The steering wheel was hot, the air stale and unpleasant to breathe. I looked up and squinted at the sizzling November sun. Enough with the heat, already.
‘Jacob Petsa,’ the coroner’s voice came through my cell phone’s crackling speaker and interrupted my fearful thoughts of another rain-free year in Greece. Jacob sounded out of breath and was obviously chewing down food of some sort.
‘It’s 9 o’clock in the morning. What the hell are you eating in the morgue?’
‘Costa! Malaka, what you up to? And to answer your question; breakfast, of course. There is an amazing bistro just round the corner that makes an exquisite full English breakfast. And guess what? With coffee, only five Euro! You see, ever since the kids left home, Maria has been trying to put us on one diet or the other. Oats are not breakfast, my friend, that’s for sure! I once told Maria that I was not a freaking rabbit and I demanded a man’s meal. You should have seen her face, she… Costa? You there?’
‘Yep.’
‘You normally interrupt me by now,’ the jovial coroner said and chuckled.
‘I was going to, but then I needed to satisfy my curiosity. I always wanted to know if you would ever stop!’
‘Well, now you know! What you’ve got?’
‘A dead male on Salamina. I’ll be outside the morgue in five minutes.’
There was no reply. Jacob did not even bother to end the call. He placed the phone on his cold, stainless steel, surgery table and hobbled towards his breakfast. No crispy bacon was going to waste, not for anybody.
Chapter 3
Batsi beach is considered one of the top beaches of the shrimp-shaped island. Not that it meant much. Salamina was not a tourist island; it gathered more locals during the summer than tourists. Now, just a step away from winter, it looked abandoned. I looked around at the scattered village houses on the hill slope nearby and rejected the idea of finding a witness. I ordered two men of the local police, from the main town of Salamina to go door to door nevertheless. It struck me as weird that someone would dump a body so close to the coast. I mean, either bury him where you killed him or throw him in the water as you came so close. A body in a ditch is a panic drop-off. My thoughts were all over the place. I closed my eyes as we approached the crime scene and exhaled. Focus, Costa, focus.
‘Good morning, Captain. This way.’ Jason Galanos was a rather short Greek. He was a brawny, bull-necked type of guy with distinct Greek coloring and a distinct Greek nose. He moved few facial muscles as he spoke and behaved in a formal and respectful manner; something unusual nowdays in the police force, especially by those under thirty. I followed the speedy officer up the dirt path, with my eyes exploring the surrounding environment. Dried up countryside with pale green bushes and stubborn olive trees growing out of the rocky grounds. Dr. Jacob Petsa huffed and puffed as he walked behind us, complaining about nearly everything.
‘Maybe Maria’s idea of a diet is not as bad as you think…’ I dared to tease with my good, old friend.
‘Maybe I’ll push you down the ditch and leave with two bodies!’ he declared and laughed out loud. His laughter echoed along the hillside and the rescue workers ahead turned to see who was so happy on approaching a murder scene. The serious-looking Sergeant had placed four iron bars around the ditch and created a rectangle with the classic, yellow police tape.
The workers had already prepared the much-needed hooks and ropes for our descent to the body. I am sure, I saw one worker double-check the ropes as he saw my height and Jacob’s width. I looked down into the wide trench. The body lay ten metres below, face down. He wore only a pair of ripped, bloody boxer shorts.
‘Who found the body?’
‘A young couple from Thessaloniki, here on holiday,’ Jason was quick to answer. He pulled out his little, black, detective notepad and continued ‘Andreas and Eleni Karambetti. Aged 28, both of them. Here for the extreme sports. There were paragliding from the hill top when Eleni started screaming and pointing down. I have their statements and they are staying in a guest room nearby, if you wish to speak to them.’
‘Great work, Jason,’ I said, admiring the youth’s way of presenting himself. Old-fashioned and controlled.
‘Let’s go pay our victim a visit,’ I gave the OK to the men in charge to tie us up. ‘Lower down th
e spotlights too.’
‘I’m getting too old for this shit!’ Jacob declared as they gradually lowered us into the earth’s cavity. We landed a few feet away from the body and untied ourselves according to the instructions we received from above. I steadied the two spotlights and switched them on. Bright white light spread throughout the ditch. I left one where it landed and carried the other to the opposite side of the poor man. Our shadows played a macabre puppet show on the hard surface of the trench walls. I photographed the body’s back and zoomed in on his wounds. Violent, messy entry wounds all over the place. Hands pushed by hatred executed this crime. Worms and flies were continuing their feast on the flesh and tiny, nibble bites indicated that mice and other small rodents occupied and roamed the trench at night. Around the body was dark blood spatter. No clothes or other items were to be seen. Jacob knelt beside the body, fixed his glasses upon his nose and squinted his eyes as he wore his off-white latex gloves. They don’t give out medical examiner awards, but if they did, Jacob would have a whole trophy cabinet. I stood aside, giving him his five minutes.
‘Let’s turn him around,’ the simple order came and I assisted in slowly turning the body to face us. We both gasped in shock at the sight of the stabbed face. The eyes sockets were severely cut, both eyeballs and several teeth were pushed in and parts of the neck were missing, having been stabbed several times. The victim’s chest was stabbed so many times that there were entry wounds upon entry wounds, forming bloody star shaped stabs. Even his upper leg had stab marks. Wounds were of all depths and widths. This was either the work of a maniac who, blinded by the moment, struck frantically or as my inner gut feeling screamed out, the work of multiple murderers.
‘Shall I start my monologue?’ Jacob sought to see if the voices in my head were ready to quieten down and listen.
‘Shoot away.’
‘Male. Early thirties. Time of death? Three days ago. Might be less, but definitely not longer. The body’s temperature is the same as the environment, the greenish-blue color has spread to most of the skin and the gases in the body tissue are starting to form blisters. He has been stabbed dozens of times, there is no way of knowing which was the original blow, however, all the injuries occurred in a matter of minutes; indicated by the blood coloring and clotting around the wounds. All other bone and tissue damage was most likely caused by the fall, that happened post mortem.’
I straightened the victim’s head and snapped away. We would need to identify the body. The sooner, the better.
Chapter 4
The local police station –if it can be called that-reminded me of a studio apartment. All in the one room, excluding the bathroom. On the left, Jason’s cheaply bought office with an outdated, dusty and rusty computer, a Greek flag, an icon of Saint Nicholas, a picture of his proud parents and an Olympiacos coffee mug that served as a pen and pencil holder. On the right, file cabinets, a holding room, separated by bars, that looked unused and the yellowy bathroom door. Batsi, population 212, was the most populous of the dozen villages Jason was in charge of. He lived a quiet life during the winter and was responsible for maintaining the peace when tourists flocked to the beaches in the summer. This was most likely his first murder case.
‘May I?’ I asked as I pointed to his office chair.
‘By all means,’ he rushed to answer and quickly turned on his computer.
‘Coffee, Captain? I make a great, strong, Greek coffee. And I have freshly made loukoumia. My aunt makes them.’
‘Sounds divine. Make it sweet,’ I replied and with the word sweet, thought of Jacob Petsa on his way back to Athens with the body. He surely would have loved a coffee and a couple of loukoumia before the autopsy.
It took my ageing eyes a minute or so to connect the wire into the camera and then the other end into the USB port. This was Ioli’s part. I wish she was here, but I knew her body and heart needed and deserved a rest after last summer’s drama.
I successfully uploaded the photos to the computer’s desktop and managed to email them on my third try to the homicide department in Athens. I requested they searched thoroughly through missing persons files; someone must be looking for him, he had been gone for over three days. If not, through our database and if nothing popped up, then on ‘Light in the Tunnel’, a successful missing persons TV program. No mention was to be made that he was dead. A sketch was to be made from the photograph and appear with the caption ‘Family looking for missing son. Last seen in Salamina.’
‘Here you go, sir,’ Jason said, placing my coffee and a little, white plate with four cubic loukoumia by my side. He sat down on a chair in corner of the room and remained there, drinking his coffee. I could not decide if he was unsociable or just the type of guy that did not talk much. I preferred to believe the latter. I drank my coffee in silence and ate all four sweets. Before devouring the fourth, I asked ‘No loukoumi?’
‘I avoid such sweet temptations. Doctor’s orders,’ he replied with a rascally smile, possibly reminiscing the days when he would eat a whole plate of these heavenly goods.
‘I should be getting back. Hopefully, the coroner will be finished with the autopsy by night and my people will have an identity for me. If any interrogations need to take place on the island or if I request any further assistance, I will be in touch.’
He stood up at once and extended his right hand. He had a firm grip and opened the door for me to exit. They sure don’t make them like this anymore.
Hours later, I was sinking into my once white, leather desk chair. My back reminded me of the two hours it had taken me, in heavy traffic, to get here after I drove off the car ferry that connected Salamis with the mainland. All of Petrou Ralli Street was filled from top to tail with cars, cargo-filled lorries and people-filled buses. I slowly moved through the scenery of monstrous, grey apartment blocks with a billion antennas sticking out the top, reaching up into the rain-less, orange colored clouds.
I stretched my arms up high, closed my eyes and found serenity in picturing the pork chop I was planning on ordering later that night. I inhaled without a sound through my nose and exhaled with a light sigh from the mouth. No luck with the victim’s identity. I hoped that for once the TV would be helpful and give us a lead.
Chapter 5
The next morning came and found me sunk into the same chair and -my worst pastime-on the phone.
First to Dr. Jacob Petsa who confirmed the date of death and that all injuries came from the same blade. He supported my theory of multiple attackers as a few stabs were made by a left-handed person and varied in intensity and depth. The victim was healthy and had eaten fruit and cheese as his last supper.
After the coroner, I called Sergeant Jason Galanos, who with complaint painting his voice, announced that no witnesses had been found and they had not had any luck with the victim’s identification. No one in the nearby villages had ever seen our blond-haired victim.
As the handset found its nest, my right eye caught a glimpse of Sergeant Demetriou hovering behind me.
‘Captain, there is a woman down in reception. She saw the victim’s sketch on TV and wishes to speak to whoever is in charge.’
‘Set her up in interrogation room three,’ I ordered, thinking how weird I was to prefer a certain room. It was exactly the same as the other interrogation rooms, but I always used three.
‘Right away, sir,’ her words came out with speed from her full Angelina Jolieish lips and off she went to fulfil her goal, her ponytail swinging from side to side. After relieving myself in the gents and splashing some cold water on my face, I walked into my favorite interrogation room.
A red-haired woman approaching sixty, with hazelnut eyes and worry all over her face, sat uncomfortably in the hard, cold, police chair. She was fully dressed in black. The sign of a widow here in Greece. She held her cup of coffee tightly and took anxious, quick sips. She looked up at me and gave her best attempt at a smile.
‘I am Captain Papacosta,’ I introduced myself as I sat down opposite
the distraught woman.
She is his mother!
‘I understand you have some information concerning the man in the sketch you saw last night?’
‘Funny thing for a family to be looking for their son and not provide a name. Is… my son… hurt?’ she struggled to form the question.
‘I am sorry to inform you that yesterday we recovered your son’s body from the island of Salamina.’ In all my years delivering bad news, I have come to realize that there is no reason to beat around the olive tree. It only prolongs the agony.
Her hands shook as she held her face. The realization that her baby boy was no longer a part of the world of the living clouded her face. She maintained all her courage in an effort for answers.
‘How?’ she asked with trembling lips that were being watered by silent tears.
‘He was murdered…’
A chilling scream that turned into uncontrollable sobbing caused me to pause and let her grieve. I spoke no words of comfort. I know too well that words mean nothing at a time like this. Your soul gets shattered and neither time nor words can put the pieces back together. You just find a way to keep on breathing. No pain can be compared to that caused by the death of your child. You will never love anyone or anything as much as your child.
‘Who would want to murder Alex?’ Her hollow stare reflected the hole growing inside her heart.
‘That is what I want to find out. And I need your strength and focus to do so. Alex you say? Surname?’
‘Alex Panayiotou. I am his mother, Voula. He was my only child…’
‘Did he live with you?’
‘No, no… Alex was too independent to accept being pampered by me. I live in my village, Avlona. Alex continued living in the apartment he stayed in as a student, here in Athens. He loved the big city. The noise, the theatres, the girls.’
Greek Island Mysteries Boxed Set (Books 1-2-3): Gripping, psychological mystery/thrillers destined to shock you! Page 25
