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

by Luke Christodoulou

  ‘I often feel like the ice queen. Mark is in love and he shows it all the time. It’s too fast for me,’ Ioli replied to Tracy’s inquiries.

  ‘You don’t feel the same?’

  ‘That’s the thing. I do. It’s crazy. I’ve never been the head-over-heels kind of girl.’

  ‘That’s how it is when you meet the one,’ I said, leaning towards Tracy; octopus sauce dripping from my lips.

  Tracy kissed me on the neck and said ‘Well, what do you know? He is listening.’

  ‘Nothing wrong with letting love in, sweetie,’ Tracy continued, turning to Ioli.

  ‘Yes. So let it in and let’s move on to our next topic. How’s the murdering nun case coming along?’ I asked, causing both ladies to laugh.

  ‘Forty-two minutes, I win,’ Ioli proudly announced.

  ‘I really believed he would last at least an hour this time,’ Tracy replied.

  ‘You two bet how long I would last before asking about a case?’

  ‘That’s right. And I won. Tracy’s paying the hair salon tomorrow!’

  I shook my head and lifted another octopus leg to my mouth.

  ‘Well, you had your laugh. Now, tell me about the position in which you found the latest victim? The papers did not reveal any details.’

  ‘Yes, I know. I have the rookie talk to the reporters. He doesn’t know shit anyway, so what can he reveal?’

  I threw my head back and laughed. It had been a while. ‘You’re so mean.’

  Two months later

  Even the weather felt pity for me. May came and the weather remained sweet. No sudden heat waves that had me cursing from the morning. A big guy like me sweats a lot and the heat and I have never been friends.

  Outside, trees and flowers came alive in the smoky city of Athens, painting the grey and dull surroundings with multiple colors. Inside, I waited for Tracy to set off for work. As soon as she left, I ran to the bathroom and puked out my guts. Same routine every morning. I fought hard not to reveal how bad I felt in front of her. I saw no reason in bringing her down. Depression was the last thing needed right now in our household.

  That is when the telephone rang. Ioli’s name appeared across my coruscating green screen.

  ‘Hey.’

  ‘Hey yourself. How are you feeling today, Cap?’

  She always asked. Always awkwardly. Her tone never like before. I hated the question, yet provided an answer. A lie, but still an answer. I guess she could not bare not to ask. She worried daily. That’s the worse thing with cancer. Not the pity from people you know, but the worry you burden on the ones who love you.

  ‘Fine. Strong as an ox.’

  ‘Great. Listen, I’m in your area, mind if I pop round for a bit?’

  I looked up and gazed into the living room mirror that hung above Tracy’s so-called ornament-table. An oval, dark brown table filled with pint size souvenirs and gifts; sacred happy memories scattered over decades. My image shown opposite me, distorted compared to my memory. A thin, pale face with thinning, once pitch-black hair. Even my chest hair had began its journey to shades of grey. Below, a well-fed belly on the retreat. As I stood in my black boxers, I was sure I had the first signs of stretch marks.

  ‘Costa?’

  ‘Em, yeah. Sure. I will be waiting for you.’

  ‘If it’s a bad time…’

  ‘Nonsense…’

  Her cheerful laughter echoed in my ears. I used nonsense quite often. Ioli considered it a grandma’s word. Ioli, on the other side, had a rich vocabulary when it came to synonyms for nonsense. None that I could utter around my mother and still avoid a slap on the back of my head.

  ‘Great. See you in five.’

  I threw my phone on the I-take-up-all-your-living-room sofa and rushed to the bedroom as fast as my frail knees allowed me. I dressed with my mind contemplating the fact that my mother was thousands of miles away, in New York, oblivious of her son’s cancer. After losing her husband last year, she was not ready to hear this.

  My finger played around with my shoe laces as I heard Ioli’s red convertible drive up my driveway, Adele’s latest record on full blast. She turned the volume high to be able to sing along; out of tune, pitchy, skipping words or worse, replacing them with her own, yet she still sang her heart out.

  I swung the front door open before her finger reached the bell. She smiled, kissed me on the cheek and ballet danced into the room.

  ‘Well, well, well. Someone is in high moods today.’

  ‘I’m gonna be all girlie for a minute. Please forgive me,’ she said, stretched out her arm and flashed a diamond ring in my face. My eyes stretched open like never before.

  ‘Mark proposed?’

  ‘Last night!’

  My arms opened wide and I took her into my arms. ‘I’m so happy for you,’ I said, being a Greek man and holding back my tears of joy. Ioli did not manage to hold them so well.

  ‘Minute’s up,’ she said, wiping her eyes and rushing to the sofa to sit down. She patted the seat next to her, calling me to sit.

  As I sat down, she took my hands into hers.

  ‘I’m not one to provide an intro to everything. My father’s dead. Thus, you are the closest, living man to me. Boss, it would be my pleasure to have you walk me down the aisle.’

  The proposal took me by surprise. The tears formed and a couple snake-lined down my cheek.

  ‘God does work in mysterious ways. You lost your father. I lost my daughter. I could think of nothing I would love to do more than to give you away.’

  She wiped her tears and chuckled. ‘Give me away? You make me sound like a piece of meat!’

  ‘A fine, prized piece. That doctor better take care of you…’

  ‘Don’t worry. I’ll shoot his balls off if he hurts me.’

  ‘Please tell me you did not tell him that.’

  ‘Of course I did. This is me we are talking about.’

  Laughter mixed with tears. Life’s best cocktail.

  ‘So, when’s the wedding?’ I finally asked, departing from our long embrace.

  ‘August.’

  ‘August?’ the question came out in glorious shock and in high pitch. ‘In the heat?’

  ‘I told Mark you would say something about the heat…’

  ‘And so soon?’

  ‘I’m not going for a Greek wedding. Well, at least in the sense of running around for over a year picking dresses, flowers and deserts. And then inviting every single person I have ever met. Mark and I both agree on keeping it small. Beautiful, but small. A close few, a nice island, a sunset, a bit of dancing and of course…’

  ‘Food!’

  ‘You know me well,’ she said with a full-toothed, long smile.

  Her smile shortened and her lips met as she saw the change in my expression.

  ‘Why the sad eyes?’

  ‘Are you having the wedding in such a short time because of me?’

  Her usual shoulder nudge hit me; more like a punch this time.

  ‘Fuck off. Of course not. You’re not on death’s roll. You could give me away next year if I wanted.’

  ‘Shall I guess the island?’ I changed the sore subject, having received the reply I wanted. No need in reading more into it. She would never admit it was for me, so I lived the lie with her.

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘Santorini.’

  ‘Am I so predictable?’

  ‘Only on matters of food and islands.’

  August - Santorini

  If there ever was a sign of a Creator out there, it is Santorini’s sunset. The majestic, turquoise Aegean waters ran for miles to the horizon to meet the clear, blue sky. Between them, the bright, blazing Greek sun in all its glory. And insignificant, little ‘you’ enjoying it all from Santorini’s 300 meter high, steep, rocky cliff; hanging above the caldera from Saint Gerasimo’s church.

  The clock struck eleven and I anxiously paced up and down outside the blue and white church, sweating even in the shade provided by the towering, anc
ient olive trees that outdated the church and all surrounding buildings. Inside, Tracy and other guests –no more than thirty people in total-were cooled down by the four air-conditioners working overtime on full blast. Only Mark felt the heat, though from the inside, as he waited for Ioli to arrive.

  The demon of the Greek islands, also known as a heat wave, unleashed its powers and the temperature had reached one hundred degrees Fahrenheit and it was not even noon, yet. Sweat poured out of my every cell, running down my naked scalp and down to my eyebrows. I had decided on shaving off all my remaining hair for the wedding. Make myself a bit more presentable. I paused, sure of the incoming noise from the distance. I leaned on my walking cane, an evil necessity due to my weak knees and back that only got worse with my ongoing sessions of chemotherapy. My image brought me to tears in the morning. I stood in front of my hotel room’s mirror and witnessed a shadow of my former self. A weakling, a sick body. Pathetic, self pitying thoughts that were thankfully shot down by Tracy’s warm embrace and cool kiss to my neck.

  ‘You are still every bit of the man I first fell in love with. Now, get dressed quickly. Ioli wants me to go to the church early to make sure that –her words-idiot looking florist with the fucked up hair got everything right,’ she said, and passed me a much needed frappe.

  The honking coming from the approaching cars hauled me out of yet another day dream. The white Mercedes turned into the church followed by three more washed and polished cars. All sparkling under the radiant sun. Familiar faces appeared from the line of vehicles. Ioli’s joyful uncle Thomas, her aunt Georgia and a large group of underage cousins dressed in white, carrying hay baskets filled with rose petals. From the bride’s car, first exited her childhood best friend and partner in crime, Polina, in a dazzling peach dress with a cut running up her leg to the very top. Then, Ioli’s mother, Anna, appeared dressed in black as every widow in Greece, yet an elegant dress with sewed-in details around the edges. She looked younger, despite her troubles and worries; a gift from Ioli’s make-up artist and hairdresser.

  All faded to the background when the bride appeared. Ioli, the tom-boy, never fond of dresses and ‘girlie-things’ as she referred to bags and jewelry, always with subtle makeup and her black hair in a high ponytail, stepped out of the car and stood in the sun. A magnificent, fresh snow white dress caressed her body. Silver high heels added to her height and platinum earrings fell from her ears. A dazzling necklace hung around her neck and her hair was airbrushed to heights never seen before. The glitter in her black hair playfully reflected the bright sunrays as she turned in my direction and flashed a smile with her full red lips. Color highlighted her high cheekbones and gave her eyes a glamorous look.

  ‘You look stunning,’ I managed to say, as she rushed towards me and grabbed me by the arm.

  ‘Not so bad yourself,’ she said and pulled me. ‘I promised not to be late. Oh, well…’

  The children entered first through the thick, wooden door, scattering petals along the ruby carpet. Ioli and I entered next, followed by her mother and relatives. All eyes turned and smiles were born all around. The largest one on Mark’s face. His heart racing in anticipation as Ioli took small steps towards the altar.

  Soon their hands and eyes met. Half an hour of praying, Isaiah’s ceremonial dance and drinking of communion followed. The ceremony was sealed with a kiss.

  I watched my partner at her merriest and wished her every possible happiness. Childless and cancer riddled, I had full knowledge of how tremendously short life could be.

  One day we will all die, but on all other days we will not. Life goes on and new steps appear along the way. A battle with a disease from within, a marriage, a new case, a newborn child, a change in career… New steps.

  The future unknown…

  The end.

  About the author:

  Luke Christodoulou is an author, a poet and an English teacher (MA Applied Linguistics - University of Birmingham). He is, also, a coffee-movie-book-Nutella lover. His books have been widely translated and are available in five languages (with more on the way).

  His first book, THE OLYMPUS KILLER (#1 Bestseller - Thrillers), was released in April, 2014. The book was voted Book Of The Month for May on Goodreads (Psychological Thrillers). The book continued to be a fan favorite on Goodreads and was voted BOTM for June in the group Nothing Better Than Reading. In October, it was BOTM in the group Ebook Miner, proving it was one of the most talked-about thrillers of 2014.

  The second stand-alone thriller from the series, THE CHURCH MURDERS, was released April, 2015 to widespread critical and fan acclaim. The Church Murders became a bestseller in its categories throughout the summer and was nominated as Book Of The Month in three different Goodreads groups.

  DEATH OF A BRIDE was the third Greek Island Mystery to be released. Released in April, 2016 it followed in the footsteps of its successful predecessors. From its first week in release it hit the number one spot for books set in Greece.

  MURDER ON DISPLAY came out in 2017 and enriched the series.

  HOTEL MURDER, the fifth and ‘final’ book in the series, followed in early 2018.

  Luke Christodoulou has also ventured into ‘children’s book land’ and released 24 MODERNIZED AESOP FABLES, retelling old stories with new elements and settings. The book, also, features sections for parents, which include discussions, questions, games and activities.

  He is currently working on his next project, a different kind of book, which he is secretive about.

  He resides in Limassol, Cyprus with his loving wife, his chatty daughter and his crazy newborn son.

  Hobbies include travelling the Greek Islands discovering new food and possible murder sites for his stories. He, also, enjoys telling people that he ‘kills people for a living’.

  Find out more and keep in touch:

  https://twitter.com/ @OlympusKiller

  https://www.facebook.com/pages/GreekIsland-Mysteries/712190782134816

  http://greekislandmysteries.webs.com/

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  Feel free to add me: https://www.facebook.com/luke.christodoulouauthor

  Note to readers:

  First of all, thank you for choosing my book for your leisure.

  If you have enjoyed the book (and I hope you have), please help spread the word. You know the way! A review and a five star rating goes a long way (hint hint).

  For any errors you may have noticed or questions about the story, let me know: christodoulouluke@gmail.com

  GREEK ISLAND MYSTERY #4:

  MURDER ON DISPLAY

  MURDER… UP, CLOSE AND ON DISPLAY!

  MYSTERY UNDER THE SIZZLING GREEK SUN!

  Chapter 1

  Midnight arrived on the exotic island of Folegandros, a small island shaped like a tilting eight; falling into the clear, pure waters of the Aegean. Away from the town center and the tanned-from-the-Greek-sun tourists, lay silent dark neighborhoods. The locals had long gone to sleep.

  A blue, wooden door stood slightly ajar and warm light from inside crept out into the darkness and the cool, summer breeze that roamed through the snakelike roads of Chora. Whispering words of love and the exchange of passionate kisses broke the silence.

  ‘Shh, I’ve got to go. My mother has been calling me for the last hour. You know how she can get. If I don’t get home soon, she will send out a search party,’ eighteen-year old Natalie said softly, her auburn hair gently caressing her bare shoulders.

  ‘Stay, my love. How many opportunities do you think we are going to get? My wife will be back on Thursday,’ her older lover complained, holding on to her hand.

  ‘I can’t,’ she replied, failing at hiding her annoyance. Nothing irritated her more than a man that begged. She pulled her slender hand out of his strong hold.

  ‘Good night,’ she said and forced a smile. He was a good lover after all.

  She dashed down the paved street, along picturesque, classic Cyclades h
omes. All were painted blue and white, some out of choice, some forced by the local council in the name of beauty and attracting tourists. Dim light fought to escape its glass lamp post prison and reach the rock-laid road. Natalie called her mother, apologizing for not answering her cell phone and in her tender, sweet voice –the fake voice that she used often-informed her mother that she was on her way home. She looked down on her phone’s screen as she ended the call, unaware of the shadowy figure approaching from outside her periphery.

  A faint scream escaped her red, lipsticked mouth when she lifted her head, and came face to face with the boy limping towards her.

  ‘For fuck’s sake! You scared the shit out of me.’

  ‘You… You… should… not swear, Natalie. It is not… nice for a lady… to talk like that,’ he replied, in his slow manner of speaking, well-known in his small town. He struggled with breathing, pausing nearly after every other word.

  ‘Really, retard? You’re giving me advice?’

  Just by uttering the word, she felt bad. Her consciousness kicked in after she saw the sorrow spreading across his baby blue eyes. ‘Sorry,’ she rushed to add and maneuvered to pass her wobbling, chubby former classmate.

  Adonis stepped in front of her. ‘Why the hurry?’ Pause. ‘Stay, talk with me.’ Another pause, longer this time. Cold sweat formed across his wide forehead, below his blond hair that blew around carelessly in the windy, dark alley. ‘You talk to all the boys,’ he added, struggling with his hectic breathing.

  Remorse quickly died inside her. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ she asked, raising her voice. ‘Besides, I only talk to the good-looking boys. Have you seen yourself in the mirror, freak?’

  Natalie pushed past him and quickened her pace.

  Just a few miles away, her mother, Electra, sat in her handmade rocking chair by the large, kitchen window that overlooked the precipice of Chora. Her greyish hair was tied up high in a bun, shining in the moonlight that got lost in the deep wrinkles across her face. At only fifty-nine, Electra looked at least a decade older. A farm girl, raised in the fields, worked for years under the cruel, midday sun, bore and lost six children during her thirties before finally giving birth to twins at the not-so-youthful age of forty-one. Her joy was short lived as her husband died of a heart-attack two years later. Forced back to work as a cleaning lady at Chora Resort and Spa and raising two kids on her own, time had not been kind to her tired body.