‘What are you two on about again?’ Anna inquired.
‘Nothing,’ they both simultaneously replied to her; a response she often received from them over the last thirty years or so.
‘Uh, hmm,’ Anna replied, her eyes fixed on them both. She turned back to me and advised me to get some rest, too. ‘You look pale as a woolly, winter sheep. Go rest by your beautiful wife.’
‘Will do.’ I forced a smile and waited for them to stroll off. With Gianni and Anna gone, my facial muscles obeyed my heart and the laws of gravity, and journeyed down my face.
‘We shouldn’t show that we are snooping around. Whoever is doing this has threatened Tracy. We should split up. You go for a walk by the bedrooms. Act like you are going to see Homer or Mark or whoever you bump into. Check which rooms are closed. I’ll head up to the attic. Rendezvous in the library. Whoever gets there first, sits and reads a book, acting normally.’
Her hand gently touched mine and without commenting more, she walked off, down the quiet, dimly lit corridor and past the Hellenic statue of Apollo that made the hall look more like a museum than a home.
Reaching the top of the stairs, I nodded hello to Christina, who as always was rushing around, clumsily attending to her daily chores. The long hall stretched emptily, so I quickened my pace towards the wooden steps that led up to the attic. The crackling of my back joined in with the crackling of the wooden floor boards and as the stairway turned me left, I ran into a startled George and a surprised Leonida.
‘Hello, Captain,’ Leonida said in a high pitched voice, as he dusted his bottom.
Were they sitting here, guarding the door to Tracy? My thought triggered my hand to journey inside my jacket, nearing my gun.
I did not get a chance to ask what they were doing sitting there as George started to mumble.
‘Wherever you sit in this place, gloomy faces surround you. Leonida does not do death well and I cannot stand the sobbing. Best place to sit and have a normal chat, you see.’
I did not reply. My hand had reached my gun. Both stood before me, blocking my way, towering over me from a higher step.
‘Well, we will be on our way,’ Leonida cheerfully said and with a mischievous smile, he speedily rushed down the stairs. An awkward, snake line smile graced George’s well shaved, wrinkle free face as he, too, sprinted down the steps causing the wooden floorboards to creak and release faint clouds of dust.
I did not let my mind soak in the scene that just took place and proceeded to battle up the stairs with vibrating pain in my back, weakness in my knees and breakfast swirling around my anxious stomach.
The flight of stairs darkened as I reached the top. Just a small, sealed rectangular window provided a dim light from the dark sky outside. It seemed to have escaped the onslaught of rain, maybe covered by the tuile toit covered roof.
I grabbed the icy knob of the brown door. Closed, yet unlocked. It gave way with a cacophonous, strident squeak. Light fell in from ceiling windows, creating squares of light upon the dusty, wooden floor. The inside of the room, half of what I was expecting to see. The right side, stacked with suitcases and boxes while the left side had two long tables. One with dozens of snowballs the size of my hand; the Louvre, the Statue of Liberty, the Big Ben, the Parthenon all sealed behind thin glass, standing amongst fake snowflakes. The second table with four heavy books; I open them to discover each book contained an array of stamps from around the world. I wiped my dusty finger on my blue shirt and moved to the back of the room. Remembering Ioli’s idea, I checked for hidden doors or cavities. None were to be found. My Tracy was still missing.
Ioli fared no better luck one floor below. All went around, seemingly with nothing to hide. Bedroom doors were left open, people came and went from their rooms to the kitchen, to the library for a book or to one of the two TV loungers. Folks just killing time. All with their phone in their hand, checking the weather reports or calling a loved one and describing their holiday from hell.
Only the last door to the right remained closed. Homer’s.
Ioli prepared to knock. She hesitated upon hearing voices from inside the room. Glancing around to notice if she was on the recipient end of any stares and seeing that she was not, she decided to place her ear on the wooden door. She brushed her black hair back and leaned forward.
‘I… I had no idea. I don’t want anything. This is the last thing on my mind. Keep it,’ Homer said. The pause between his sentence and who spoke next caused Ioli’s pores to start producing cold, winter sweat.
‘To be honest, my dear lad, what the hell am I going to do with it?’ Cosmas said. His voice weak, crackling, unsteady in tone.
Another long paused followed. Slight weeping echoed through the room. Ioli’s brain painted the image of the two men holding each other, comforting one another in an unspeakable moment of anguish, despair and torment.
Footsteps coming towards the door brought her back from her thinking place. What money were the two men referring to? She jumped back a step or two and acted as if she had just arrived at the door as it flung open and Cosmas exited, nearly bumping into her.
‘Oh, sorry. I was just coming to check in with Homer,’ she apologized.
‘You’re a sweetheart,’ Cosmas said, his eyes red and puffy. He placed his hand upon her shoulder and smiled a pitiful smile. ‘Good luck with cheering him up. He is still young, joy can still be regained,’ he said and ambled away.
Ioli took a deep breath and popped her head through the open door. Homer stood by the window, his gaze fixed on the rattan, garden chairs floating in the wavy, swimming pool waters. The pool had turned brown from the dirt and flowers it had gathered. The winds whistled through, calmer than before, yet still strong. The rain remained.
‘Two days without a break. I hope it’s not another thirty-eight to go,’ Homer commented on the thick rain drops.
‘Maybe we should build an ark and get the hell off this island.’
‘Oh, Ioli. It’s you,’ Homer said, turning around quickly.
‘Expecting someone else?’ Ioli was fast to ask. Her head tilting to the side, she was studying Homer.
‘Erm, no. Not really. Well, I thought it was Alexandra. She passed by before, saw Cosma here and left without interrupting.’
‘Cassandra’s girlfriends checking up on you?’
‘Something like that.’
His tone of apathy irritated Ioli, but she was good at not showing her emotions. They always remained below the skin until she wished them to be revealed.
‘Cosma looks ready to break down,’ she changed the subject, mentally noting down to speak with Alexandra.
‘I am ready to break down and his loss is double than mine.’
Ioli nodded her head in agreement and sat on the bed. She patted it with her right hand, urging Homer to sit beside her. Homer reluctantly approached. His manner resembled that of a school boy ready to be told off.
‘How long were you outside the door?’ he asked, sitting next to her.
‘Long enough to overhear that money is about to come find you. A large amount of money, I presume.’
‘Indeed,’ Homer said. ‘But I don’t want it. It does not seem right, you know?’ he was quick to add.
‘Cassandra put you in her will?’
‘I had no idea. When we got engaged, she admitted to me that her family was wealthier than what she had previously said. Especially her mother, she had stressed. Apparently, Cassandra had a will drafted just a few days ago, leaving all her belongings to any future children. But until then, she filled me in as her heir.’
‘And did she have a lot in her name?’
‘That is what Cosmas just found out from his lawyers. His wife had transferred all her money to Cassandra, a few months ago. Probably shortly after hearing about the wedding.’
‘How much money, if I may ask?’
‘Near 800,000 Euros.’
Ioli whistled upon hearing the number. ‘That’s a lot of money.’
�
�I know. And now I am torn…’
‘Torn? Why?’
‘I would never accept any house or land that was in her mother’s family for centuries when I was a part of the family for like five seconds, but money is money. It seems so wrong to accept it, but then again if I give it to Cosmas, who will inherit it? His sister?’
‘Or a charity.’
‘I thought about that myself. Give a percentage to charities that fight for children. Cassandra would have loved that.’
‘A percentage?’
‘Oh, come on, Ioli. Don’t be so condescending.’
‘I’m not. I am just so used to murders happening, and they always happen for love or money or both.’
Homer stood up. Fury flashed across his eyes. He clenched his fists as his face turned a faint shade of red. In the cold room, his armpits had managed to form two little dark lakes on his blue shirt.
‘Are you accusing me of murdering Cassandra for money? I told you, I just found out. I had no idea about the money. I did not even know they were this rich.’
‘I am not accusing you of anything, Homer and lower your tone of voice with me. I am simply pointing out how it will look, you keeping all that money and all.’
‘Well, she left me the money and that is a fact I and everyone else will have to deal with. I could not care less how the gossiping old ladies and boring asses will take it. Let them talk.’
His voice came out strong and angry. Ioli stood up and approached him slowly. She rubbed his arm and laid a kiss on his unshaven cheek.
‘Calm down. I am on your side.’
‘I know,’ he replied and took her into his arms. His jaw rested on her shoulder and there, Homer finally shed his gathered tears.
Minutes later, Ioli left the room confused. It sure did not look good that he would come into so much money and for some reason, Alexandra visiting him did not sit well with either of her inner instincts, woman’s and detective’s. She had lied about being on his side. Ioli was on one side and one side only. The truth’s. And with that in mind, she set off to find Alexandra.
I kept to our plan and made my way to the library.
The door stood closed. The door knob warmed my hand as I grabbed it. The fire inside burnt hot. I entered the room and closed the door behind me. Dozens of oak logs were wrapped in flames in the majestic, marble fireplace. The flames reached high, disappearing into the dark cavity that vacuumed the grey smoke and released it into the cold, rainy outside. The room’s high temperature forced me to immediately remove my beige jacket. My body was never fond of high temperatures. My armpits were always begging to return to New York and its one month of summer.
‘Too hot for you, Captain?’ a shaky voice asked.
I did not need to turn to recognize that tone. ‘Mrs Helena, I did not see you there.’
‘You young ones have warm blood running around your veins. My relic of a body needs a good fire on days like these. I guess, I will have the girls light me a bonfire if this maddening, nuisance storm from hell continues.’
I smiled and walked nearer to where she was sitting. She had pushed one of the tall armchairs back to the wall, placing it right between the two towering bookcases. The thin, green book in her slightly trembling hands caught my attention.
‘Peter’s long walk by Alki Zei? That brings back memories,’ I said.
‘And what memories are those?’
‘Greek high school back in Astoria. We read the book as part of a school project. It was the only book the school made us read that I loved. A simple story with such powerful lessons. The first book that really got me thinking,’ I admitted. I paused, realizing that it was my first seconds of not thinking of Tracy. A weird sensation of guilt came over me. Tracy was God-knows where and I stood nice and warm in a library discussing childhood books.
‘I see. Pleasant memories. Yes, it is a powerful book. However, my memories are quite different.’
More guilt. The old lady was probably a child during World War II just like Peter.
‘I was nine years old when the Nazis took Athens and hunger spread throughout the land. My mother worked as a dressmaker in a little shop down by the docks. We witnessed hundreds of young men, most not even with a mustache yet, gather on old, rusty boats and head off to the mainland to fight for mama-Greece. Nearly none returned,’ she continued.
I sat down in the armchair behind me and remained quiet. Never interrupt an old lady retelling the past. Helena Zampetaki’s eyes grew watery.
‘I remember the day my father left, like it was yesterday. I might not be able to remember what I ate for breakfast, yet I’ll never forget that day. The air was chilly and we said our goodbyes inside the shop. My parents kissed and hugged, my mother standing strong for my sake. I remember my father kneeling before me, tears in his eyes. I had never seen him cry before that day. My sweet baby girl, he whispered and sucked me into his huge arms. I screamed as he let go and walked out the door, never to be seen again.’
‘That’s terrible, I…’
‘No need for sympathy, Captain. To lose a parent is much more natural than to bury a child.’
‘How did…’
‘I know more than what people believe I do.’
I stood up and approached her, kneeling in front of her. ‘And what do you know more about Cassandra’s and Irene’s death?’
‘Nothing, of course,’ she said out loud. However, she placed her index finger upon her thin lips while with her other hand, she invited me closer. As my head reached near her lips, she whispered to me. My eyes opened wide upon hearing her words.
Meanwhile, as truths came to life in the library, Ioli made her way to find Alexandra.
As expected, Cassandra’s four bridesmaids were together. Dressed in black, they clashed with the bright and colorful background of the TV lounge downstairs. The television was playing on mute; Amanda sat opposite it, staring at the moving images with sleep craving eyes. Next to her, Jenny managed to balance her o’verweight by any standards’ body and lay spread out on the multicolored sofa. Andrea stroked her dyed blonde hair by the ten foot tall oval window. Her gaze noticed everything and nothing. The rain fell, the earth welcomed it and trees fought to stay up straight. Just like the day before.
The person of interest sat in a tall back armchair by the fireplace. The fire had died down, a few sparks crackled among the thin logs of wood and flames came to life, only to fade back down into the pine tree wood. Alexandra had tied her brown hair up into a knot, held only by her bitten pencil. Her legs rested on a round, three-legged wooden stool and her hands held up a Madame Figaro magazine to eye level. She did not notice Ioli enter the room and beeline towards her. Ioli focused on Alexandra’s eyes as they travelled around, scanning the magazine. She flicked through the pages nervously, each page producing a sharp noise as it was forced to give way to the next.
‘Nothing of interest to read?’ Ioli asked.
Alexandra lowered the magazine and sat up straight, retrieving her long legs from the stool. ‘I did not notice you there. Ioli, right?’
Ioli nodded. ‘Can we speak in private?’
Alexandra’s face darkened for a second. A shadow of doubt rolled across her face, but with a bright, wide smile Alexandra replied ‘I guess I never did get a chance to give a statement, what with the power going out and that woman falling down the stairs.’
Ioli walked ahead, her eyes slipped into their corners making sure Alexandra followed her. She did, somewhat reluctantly and with her friends’ eyes focused on her. Ioli noticed that none of her girlfriends asked why she was being summoned alone. No whispery what’s going on or silent mouth movements or hand gestures. Ioli could not shake the shivers that her inner instinct sent to her.
Ioli looked up and down the long corridor and leaned on the cherry red wall. Alexandra dragged her silky hair to one side and stopped a foot away from Ioli.
‘On the night of Cassandra’s death, I was with the girls. We share a joined two bedroom…’
Alexandra straightened her body and squinted her hazelnut eyes.
‘I thought that you were supposed to note down our whereabouts at the time…’
‘Why do you keep going up and checking on Homer?’ Ioli asked, sure that she had visited him before.
Alexandra stood before her, lost for words. She stumbled on a few vowels before forming a sentence. ‘He… Homer… was… err… Cassandra, my friend… erm… her fiancé and now she is dead, I wanted to make sure he was alright. I owe it to Cassie.’
‘Say his name again.’
‘What?’
‘His name.’
‘Homer?’
‘Hmm.’
‘OK, this is getting ridiculous. What is it…’
‘Lower your voice. I’m still in a good mood. You don’t want to change that. Besides, you don’t want everyone hearing that you and Homer were, let’s say, close.’
‘I don’t like what you are implying.’
‘I could not care less about what you like or not. And I am not implying anything. I am simply stating a fact.’
‘Who told you? Is Amanda talking shit again?’
Ioli had her answer, her proof. Disappointment fell down hard. Her sweet cousin Homer, all of a sudden was being portrayed in her mind as a cheating bastard and a gold digger.
‘Did Cassandra know?’
Alexandra’s fingers rubbed her sweaty palms. She looked flushed and spoke with difficulty. ‘I know how things must sound. I have judged friends like this many times before, but as bad as it sounds, I never intended it to happen. Neither did Homer. He loved Cassie. I loved her, too.’
‘That’s a lot of love to handle.’
‘Be as sarcastic as you wish. It all started two years ago, after Homer and Cassie had a big argument and he stormed out of their apartment.’
‘What did they fight about?’
‘Money was always an issue with those two. Both were deep in student debt and both ambitious to keep studying and earning more certificates. Anyway, Homer and my brother were close and he crashed at my brother’s apartment for a few days. I stayed there, too. Well, I see no reason to spell things out for you. The all time classic tale, about one thing leading to another. It was just for fun. We never fell for each other. During the last two years we probably only slept together a handful of times.’
Greek Island Mysteries Boxed Set (Books 1-2-3): Gripping, psychological mystery/thrillers destined to shock you! Page 55
