If this was not a time to panic, when is it? Baby, where are you?
I ran back up the stairs and into my room. Tracy’s phone sat on her bedside table. There went the idea of calling her. I picked up my phone and dialled Ioli’s number. Five dial tones later, a grumpy, scruffy voice managed to say my name.
‘Costa?’
‘Ioli, get up and come to my room. Now. Alert, no one.’
‘What’s going on?’
‘I can’t find Tracy,’ I said, worry coloring my voice, making it shake faster than a Latin dancer.
‘What the…? I’m on my way.’
My bladder reminded me of my morning needs. I walked into the bathroom, loosened my trouser’s top button and pulled out my aching for release little friend. My lower back was vibrating, causing little pains as I peed. As I exhaled in relief, my eye caught a glimpse of the mirror. I froze in terror. A paper note stared back at me, stuck to the glass surface.
Sorry for the drastic measures, but I cannot risk everything happening in vain. I mean your wife no harm. Stay out of my business and you will see Tracy again. Meddle and she is gone forever. Do not play with me, I’ll be watching. Back off. Let us all leave the island and classify Irene’s death as a suicide and Cassandra’s as murder from Maria Marousaki.
Four minutes later, Ioli rushed into the room to find me in a pitiful state sitting on the floor with my head against the bed. Her hair was tangled up and her face puffed up from heavy sleeping. Her eyes still sore and red.
‘Costa?’ her voice full of concern. I passed her the note. She read it carefully and then knelt beside me.
‘Keep in mind that Tracy’s safe,’ she said and hugged me.
My hand stroked her cheek. ‘Thanks, but what do we do now?’
‘We play it cool. Whoever asks we say Tracy is in bed sick. We appear to be up to nothing, let the killer think we agree with his plan and after breakfast we go looking for Tracy. It’s a tiny island with less than fifty houses, she has to be somewhere. I doubt she is being kept here in the house, who would risk that?’
‘Very discreetly, we should check the cellars and the attic to be on the safe side.’
‘Of course, boss. And don’t worry. We will find her,’ she said, trying to persuade both of us.
‘What’s going on?’ the voice from the door startled us. Anna, Ioli’s mother, stood in the doorway wrapped in her purple, flowery gown, staring at us. Ioli took one look at the closed bathroom door and replied ‘Nothing, mama. Tracy woke up sick. She’s in the bathroom throwing up.’
‘Oh, the poor thing. I’ll make her some tea and bring it to her.’
‘I’ll come with you,’ Ioli said. She left with her mother, making sure it was her that would bring up the hot beverage. As they departed, my head fell into my arms. Clichés ran through my mind.
If anything happened to Tracy… This is all my fault… How the hell did ‘they’ take her…
I could not lose Tracy. After the death of our only child, we went our own ways. Now, back together at last she was kidnapped from right next to me. I knew if anything happened to her, it would be the end of me. My mind travelled to the days after Gaby’s funeral. Tracy had left me right after the burial. Alone, I drove up to the cemetery and sat for hours next to her tombstone. Sometimes, I did not leave even when night fell around us. I could not accept that she was gone. One night, I threw a shovel in the back of my car and drove up the hill of graves, determined to take Gabriella back home with me. My baby girl belonged to me. She was a part of me and I could not let her go. She haunted my dreams, day and night; still does. As the sharp edge of the shovel dug into the muddy ground, I knew I needed help, I knew I had to get away. I fell back and cried, eventually falling asleep upon her grave. The sun’s first rays sneaked up to my eyelids and awoke me. The happy surroundings of birds tweeting and flowers opening up to the sun were in full contrast with my darkened, aching soul. I said my goodbyes, threw the dirty shovel back into my car, drove to the police station down on Joralemon Street, quit my job, went home, packed my things and left for the airport. Days later, I began working for the Hellenic Police in Athens with frequent trips to the psychologists in the program. Years later, I had finally ‘got my shit’ together as Ioli so elegantly put it and now, this.
Self pity is a depthless hell, Papacosta! Get your sorry ass off the floor and get to work!
The morning’s breakfast could have been a part of Dante’s hellish world. I sat in a surreal world of croissants and forest fruit jams, surrounded by people in deep mourning over the death of their loved ones and there I was, cool on the outside, melting inside by boiling rage. One of these people knew where my Tracy was.
My fist and my gun could persuade them.
Kallisto, sat uncomfortably between George and Leonida. On any given day, she would have been pleased to have fitted into her black Versace dress and been dining in a mansion on a Greek island. Yet today, the gloom and death around her had succeeded in dampening even her otherwise bright spirits. Her outgoing, loud bubbly personality had always been her defense mechanism in a world that scared her. A world full of violence, of hate, of war, of death.
‘Where is your mind travelling to?’ Leonida asked.
‘Death scares me,’ she plainly and honestly answered.
‘Doesn’t it scare us all?’ George inquired, in a whisper.
‘Do you believe in life after death, George?’ Kallisto lowered her head and threw a sideways look at him.
‘Well, I think I do. Or I want to. I was raised Orthodox like all of us and as Christians we have…’
‘Well, I don’t,’ she interrupted him. ‘I’m not an atheist or anything; I just cannot find a way to believe such a fairytale and knowing that one day, sooner or later, I will not be around, scares me. Me, Kallisto, everything I am, gone forever. Never to think again, to feel any sort of emotion again. Non-existence. The end,’ she said, waving her hands.
I watched her and for a moment a slight line of a smile struggled to move upwards upon my rough, unshaven face. A thing that amazes me in life is how we store memories and how a person, a word, a situation could force your mind to replay moments of the past.
Watching and listening to Kallisto brought two memories to the surface. The first one, a fond one; my mother whose hands and arms moved uncontrollably when she spoke. If anyone ever pointed it out to her, her reply was always a proud ‘we are Greek, is there any other way of speaking?’
The second one, one of the saddest moments after Gaby’s death. After the funeral, Tracy’s sister held Tracy in her arms, fondly stroking her hair, letting her sister’s tears run freely. Tracy had just lost her only child. Her sister knew that all she could do is be there and listen. Tracy’s words created a black hole in my soul that day.
‘She’s dead, my little girl is gone. Forever! Eight years old, for fuck sake. Never to go to high school, never to get her heart broken by her first love, never to pick up a sport or learn to play the piano, never to marry. She will never get to do anything again. And it’s all Costa’s fault. I told him to switch to a desk job, but no. He had to be a mighty New York detective and now, our daughter has been gunned down in the street like an animal.’
Words I will never forget.
Ioli came and sat next to me, her plate filled with toast soaked in honey, slices of cheese and turkey ham.
‘Eat up,’ she whispered, and placed the plate in front of me.
‘I must look like a right state for Ioli Cara to share her food,’ I managed to joke, though my face did not move any muscles to show a jovial mood.
‘Share? That’s your plate. I left mine by the breakfast buffet.’
Besides Anneta Zampetaki who remained in bed, everyone gathered around the long, wooden table for breakfast. All gloomy and with signs of spending a restless night. Besides a few good morning wishes and whispered conversations between friends and family, silence mostly occupied the room.
‘How is your sister, Mr Zampetaki?’
Melissa kindly asked Cosma, who sat quietly opposite her.
‘She is doing fine. She is a fighter, that one…’ he began to say, ducked down into his bowl of wheat cereal. He paused as he lifted his head and stared at Melissa, making her lower her eyes. ‘Thanks for asking, my dear girl.’
‘Is she fine?’ Ioli whispered to Mark, who met her at the buffet. He did not miss the chance to sit next to her.
‘Yes. Though without a scan, I cannot tell if everything is A-okay on the inside. Let’s hope for the best and as soon as we leave the island, she needs to visit the hospital in Chania.’
The four bridesmaids entered the room together. The way they moved in a herd was quite comedic. I understood the whole we are friends in a foreign land comforting each other in a difficult time scenario, but this was getting ridiculous. They had held hands, stroked each other’s hair and hugged ever since Cassandra’s death. Maybe Tracy’s disappearance was making me cold. Maybe.
Jason, having finally made his choice, smiled at Amanda and moved to sit next to her.
‘Will you be taking testimonials from the remaining members of the group?’ Cosma asked, being the first to speak loud enough to be heard by all. ‘It is our last day on the island.’
It will be your last day forever if Tracy is not found you smug prick.
‘No, no need to rush. We aren’t going anywhere. Let people enjoy their breakfast,’ I replied.
‘Do you really believe the ferries will come tomorrow?’ Amanda asked.
‘Let’s hope so, my dear. I need to bury my wife and child,’ he bluntly replied and ducked back down into his plate. Gloom spread throughout the room once again, strangling down any emotions of joy born by the news of the ferry’s arrival.
‘Why is he spreading hope?’ Ioli whispered in my ear. ‘I spoke to HQ this morning and they said the restrictions will be lifted the day after tomorrow.’
‘You spoke to HQ? Have they done background checks on everyone?’
‘Nearly. It’s taking time as some are not even in the Greek system. They did find out that the real aunt Myrrine died peacefully in her sleep in a nursing home in Florida a couple of years back. She had no children so they informed a distant cousin of hers, who, also, has since passed away. No one bothered to call Greece, so we all presumed her still alive.’ She paused, looked around her, bit down on her cherry jam covered toast and continued ‘Let’s excuse ourselves and I’ll tell you the rest in the library.’
At that moment, others began to leave the breakfast table. Gianni got up first, grunting something about his knees and how the weather affected them. Anna, polite and elegant as always, thanked Cosma for the meal and wished that the saints provide him with strength through these dark, unkind hours. Their departure signalled the OK-we-can-go-now feeling around the table and as uncle Thomas aided his wife up, Ioli and I left the room unnoticed.
With the heavy library door behind us, Ioli continued.
‘Only Jason and Alexandra have criminal records. Jason for reckless driving. He was drunk and stoned, and drove into a neighbor’s front lawn. Alexandra, listen to this, for stabbing her ex in the shoulder.’
‘You don’t say. Under what circumstances?’
‘Domestic fight that escalated. She stated that after throwing a vase at his direction, he attacked her, threw her to the floor and tried to rape her. She admitted stabbing him with a kitchen knife in self-defense. She got six months community service.’
‘Anything else suspicious or unusual with the background checks?’
‘Not really. Pretty normal stuff, though not everyone has been checked yet. I found out something I did not know. I don’t even know if he knows to be honest.’
‘Who?’
‘Leonida.’
‘What about him?’
‘He was adopted as a baby. The documents do not reveal who his birth parents are; just that it was an unmarried, underage girl that gave him up.’
‘It’s funny if you think that he resembles George and Homer. I would not think twice that they were not blood-related.’
‘I know, right? Also, I found out that my uncle Thomas was not all so innocent in his youth. He owned a strip club!’ she said with amazement, her eyes opening wide and her jaw dropping slightly. ‘I regret not running background checks on my family sooner.’
‘The deeper you dig, the deeper the shit you may found yourself in.’
‘One of your grandma’s famous sayings, again?’ Ioli asked.
‘Nope, this one’s all mine.’
‘Yeah, it sounded like you,’ she said, mocking me; only to pause realizing my tension. ‘We will find her, Costa.’
I leaned in, nearer to her and lowered my voice. ‘With the storm outside, the short amount of time since her disappearance and the fact that everyone is counted for and in the house…’
‘You believe she is locked up somewhere in the house?’
‘Yes. Used as a last played threatening card to keep us off the case,’ I said, clenching my fists. ‘We were warned to stay off the case and that is what we will show. No more discussing the case with anyone. Casually, we are going to stroll through this palace and head down to the basement. Then, the attic. The rooms will follow and will be the most difficult to search.’
‘Difficult or not, it will be done,’ Ioli reassured me.
The lavish environment diminished quickly as we opened the burgundy door that led to the employees’ quarters. Having first checked that no eyes were around to witness us, we crept past the staff’s lounge area, sneaking past the two tall butlers that welcomed us on our first day here. They were young men from the island that only worked as butlers whenever the Zampetaki family was entertaining a significant amount of guests; the rest of the time they were fishermen and during the summer time, they acted as waiters at the island’s one and only beach bar. We did not get to interview them; however, both had mentioned that they were together watching a movie when Cassandra encountered her killer. Through the half opened door, I saw them dig into a bag of chips and enjoy cans of coke, relaxed on the lounge’s worn in sofa. The TV was rewinded to yesterday’s game and the pair of youths sat back to kill another day of nothing to do.
At the end of the colorless corridor, an old brown door stood open, its mouth revealing narrow steps descending into darkness.
‘If she was here, the door would have been locked,’ I said disappointed, my hand grabbing my lowering head. I ran my thumb and index finger along my closed eyes and squeezed at the height of my Greek nose.
‘Let’s take a quick peek and be on our way then,’ Ioli said, her hand searching the inside wall for a switch. With a minor crackle, the two hanging light bulbs came to life, revealing a dump, cold, dusty room filled with the family’s forgotten belongings. The center of the room’s belly lay empty while every other corner was stacked with coveted artefacts and furniture of another era.
‘Tracy? Tracy?’ I whispered as loudly as I could. Silence.
Ioli wandered around the room, checking for any possible doors. None.
We headed back to the stairs, noticing the least dusty boxes in the storage room. I opened one out of curiosity. High school books, paintings, posters of teen bands, animal ornaments. The cardboard box next to it with clean Barbie dolls, washed teddy bears, Lego bricks and all sorts of toys.
‘Attic?’ Ioli asked interrupting my daydream of Gaby playing with a variety of toys and games on the day after her birthday or after Christmas. Joyful times carved into memory; sometimes creating smiles, other times dampening the spirits.
The two butlers had not moved a muscle and paid no attention to us sneaking by. I closed the burgundy door behind as and with no one in sight strolled casually away from the door. Ioli remained, her eyes examining the walls.
‘Enjoying the art?’
‘Just checking there is no secret space.’
‘Secret space?’
‘Like a panic room or something of the sort. The walls seem real thick in this house. I notic
ed it in the library and dining room, too. Maybe, I am just being too analytical and paranoid.’
I did not reply. She had lost me in thought; until the voice behind me startled me. My skin jumped and it shivered my bones.
‘Good morning, again,’ Anna said, walking towards me. ‘Tracy feeling better?’ she asked as her husband Gianni stood by his daughter, staring at the wall she seemed preoccupied by.
‘She’s feeling better, but stayed in bed to relax, thank you,’ I mumbled, trying to catch a breath of the heated, stale air that floated through the closed up house; the rain constantly plummeting, hitting against the windows, forcing them to remain shut.
‘What else is going on? Really?’ Gianni spoke softly to his daughter, while looking over his shoulder at his wife.
‘Dad, nothing is wrong…’
‘Lollipop, it’s me you are talking to. I read you easier than I read the Sunday Sports News,’ he replied, maintaining the same gentle tone of voice. His hand rose and caressed his daughter’s hair. ‘What is bothering you?’
Ioli leaned closer to him. ‘Nothing is what it seems. We have our theories, but I cannot elaborate more. You just keep an eye out for mum and play it safe. Stay in numbers. Sit around with uncle Thomas and auntie Georgia. The storm will pass eventually.’
Gianni’s caring eyes read his daughter for a moment. ‘Are we in danger?’
‘Daddy, there is nothing to worry about. Just stay together and don’t mingle too much with people we just met,’ she replied. ‘And that is all am saying for now!’ she raised her voice as he opened his mouth. ‘Don’t say another word and stop looking over at mum. She is stronger than you think and to be honest, it is you I am worried about. Doctors are always telling you to take it easy and mama told me how your blood results suck, so go relax, treat this like a holiday and enjoy a glass of red wine or two.’
‘Well, well, well. Being told off by my child. How the table has turned. I must be getting old,’ Gianni said and raised his hands, signalling another defeat in conversation with his strong-willed daughter.
Greek Island Mysteries Boxed Set (Books 1-2-3): Gripping, psychological mystery/thrillers destined to shock you! Page 54
