The Actor's Guide To Greed

by Rick Copp

  Philander lit up. “Sounds good.”

  I tipped the bartender twenty euros for indulging our raucous behavior and nodded to the bitchy English queen at the piano as we passed. He sniffed at me derisively, and I concluded that he had probably been trying to score with Philander for months and resented me for succeeding during his opening set.

  I wrapped my arm around Philander’s waist and led him off the cobblestone path onto the slippery rocks of the shore. I spotted a few pairs of men, their eyes darting about as they disappeared behind the jagged rocks to fool around in the darkness. Philander was already rubbing his hands over my chest as we walked, but his shaky attempt at a pass only caused him to lose his balance. I gripped him tighter to keep him from falling.

  When we were a safe distance from the horny tourists and the sounds of show tunes from the Montparnasse evaporated in the night winds, I sat Philander down on a flat rock. He fumbled for the zipper on my pants, but I managed to pull away without completely discouraging him. He sighed and was under the impression that it was his own inebriation that was preventing him from successfully getting inside my pants.

  “Come here,” he slurred, reaching out for me.

  I let him pull me toward him, and he awkwardly planted a few wet kisses on my mouth. I kept my lips sealed, hoping to avoid him driving his tongue down my throat. I had to keep him going, though, at least until I found out what I needed to know.

  “You are so cute,” I said as I playfully ran my hand through his hair. The gel was so greasy I had to wipe it off on my white pants, leaving an unsettling stain. “I can’t imagine why Ulysses would throw you away.”

  Philander frowned, stung by the words. “He didn’t throw me away. I’m still there, aren’t I?”

  “Well, I heard he’s got a new boyfriend.”

  This was news to Philander. “Who?”

  “An American.”

  “Uli would never date an American. They’re too loud and crass.”

  “Well, someone saw an American on his property. Tall guy, black hair, well built.”

  “Oh, him,” Philander said, relieved. “He’s not his boyfriend. He’s . . .”

  “What?”

  Philander sat back. His head was spinning. I was on the clock, because he was going to pass out at any time. “I can’t really talk about it.”

  “Mr. Karydes is obviously just sparing your feelings. He doesn’t want you to know what’s really going on between them.”

  “No!” Philander said, shifting his weight in a desperate attempt to stop the spinning. “That American wouldn’t even be there if it weren’t for that good-for-nothing Indian.”

  “You mean Akshay?”

  “Yes, he betrayed Mr. Karydes. Tried passing off . . .” Philander was confused. He knew he shouldn’t be talking about any of this, but he was drunk and his guard was down.

  “The Oscar,” I said. “Akshay stole it. He owed Ulysses a lot of money, and offered to give him Claire Richards’s Academy Award if he would erase the debt.”

  “Yeah, but the stupid ass tried passing off . . .”

  A fake. Akshay tried fooling Uli with a counterfeit statue. He planned to keep the real one and sell it for a lot of money. Dumb move, considering Uli was a connoisseur of memorabilia. The pieces were coming together. Philander’s eyes were half opened. He was struggling to stay awake. I only had seconds left.

  “When Karydes realized he was being conned by Akshay, he decided he needed some bargaining leverage to show him he was serious?” I said.

  Philander half nodded, his eyes getting heavier every moment.

  “Why did he kidnap the American?”

  “He sent two of his men to London to go rough up Akshay, who was there doing a play. They saw him with the American and assumed the two of them were a couple . . .” Philander said, his head drooping.

  So Uli gave the order to kidnap Charlie, who he thought was Akshay’s lover. They spirited him here to Mykonos, probably on Karydes’s private jet, and stashed him somewhere until Akshay turned up with the real Oscar. It all made sense. But where was Charlie? He could be anywhere. Mykonos wasn’t a huge island, but there were a lot of discreet hiding places.

  “Where is your boss keeping the American?”

  Philander’s head swayed to one side and his eyes were clamped shut. I shook him, but he was out. I carefully lowered his head until it rested against a rock. I didn’t need anything more from him. I knew the whole story. It was all about an exchange. Charlie for the Oscar. Akshay was the thief in the red ski mask. He stole the award from Claire’s dressing room. But he got greedy. And it led to Charlie’s abduction. Akshay might have been a cad and a cheat, but he couldn’t just let Charlie die. So he booked a flight to Mykonos to hand over the real thing and get him back. Akshay had proven so untrustworthy, however, Uli wasn’t taking any chances and dispatched a couple more of his henchmen, the Hulk and Thing, over to London to ransack Akshay’s apartment for the statue in case of another double cross. That’s where Laurette and I came in.

  But now, I was in the power position. I had the coveted Academy Award that Ulysses Karydes wanted so badly. All I had to do was contact him and arrange my own exchange. That still left some troubling questions. Why would Karydes kill Akshay before he got his hands on the Oscar? Or was it someone else? And was the person who shot Akshay dead at Super Paradise Beach the same person who somehow murdered Claire Richards on the opening night of Wallace Goodwin’s play? And if she didn’t die from the peanut oil, then what killed her? I had to find out the truth before the British police tossed me in prison for the crime. But first, I had to get Charlie back.

  Chapter 26

  I could only imagine Ulysses Karydes’s rage when he discovered his ex–boy toy Philander was not accounted for after curfew. Philander was out for the night and would probably not open a bloodshot eye until well after dawn. The panic would quickly seep in, and he would stumble back to the property to take his licks from his blustery boss.

  It was only a little after one in the morning and the clubs were still hopping with activity as I raced back to the Andromeda to shake Laurette awake and fill her in on my recent discoveries. A group of strapping young Swedes, blonde, blue eyed, and rip-roaring drunk, waved for me to join them at an outdoor table at Pierro’s, Mykonos’s most famous gay bar. I smiled but didn’t slow down. There was much to do if I was going to bargain for Charlie’s freedom.

  I hurried up the cobblestone steps and was only a few hundred feet from the Andromeda when I barreled around a dark corner that was hidden from the bright street lamps. My stomach suddenly twisted into a knot. It was dark and ominous, and my gut was telling me I had just made a giant mistake. Two men jumped out of the bushes and grabbed me. One came at me from behind, wrapping a thick arm around my chest while the other lifted my legs off the ground. I twisted my head around to call out to the drunk Swedes just around the bend, but the man behind me anticipated it and clamped a giant paw over my face. I struggled violently, kicking my legs, nailing the one holding my feet across the jaw. He angrily pinned my feet under his arms, holding tight, and the two men carried me off the path, through the brush, and into a deserted alley across from a row of houses with chipped paint and weathered shutters, a far cry from the more opulent hotels.

  As the guy in front of me grunted and cursed in Greek, his face fell into the light from the nearly full moon. It was Leandro. I could only guess Khristos was behind me, silencing my cries for help with his massive hand.

  I was a lot more of a fighter than either anticipated, and after I clocked Leandro in the head with the heel of my shoe, he angrily dropped my legs, leaving his partner to hold me down all alone. Leandro whipped out a switchblade from his shorts and cackled as he flipped it open. He then swiftly marched up and pressed the tip of the sharp blade against the skin just underneath my left eye.

  “Quiet,” he hissed. “Or I pop it out with one flick of my wrist.”

  I wasn’t about to accessorize with an eye
patch for the rest of my life, so I immediately stopped fighting. I went limp, and after a few moments, Khristos took his hand away and stepped back. Leandro held the knife tip to my face just long enough for me to know he meant business, then lowered the blade. He kept it gripped in his hand, leveled at me, in case I tried anything stupid.

  “If you’re looking for Philander, he’s back that way taking a snooze,” I said, pointing toward Mykonos town.

  “We want the Oscar,” Leandro said, his brown eyes narrowing.

  “Oscar who?”

  Leandro lifted the knife back up in front of my face, turning it so the reflection from the blade caused my eyes to squint. “Get cute again,” he growled, “and I will cut you.”

  “We know you have it,” Khristos said.

  So much for the exchange. I was no use to Charlie dead. If I didn’t hand over Claire’s Academy Award, I had no doubt they would stab me to death and stuff my corpse into a trash bin. If I handed over the statue, I would be left with no bargaining chip. Charlie’s fate would be left in the hands of a corrupt gay Greek shipping tycoon. Maybe he would let him go. That was a stretch. If released, Charlie could someday come back to haunt him. So could I, for that matter. We were both probably marked men once Ulysses got his hands on the Oscar. I had about five minutes to come up with a plan before we were back at the Andromeda and I was waking Delphina up to open the hotel safe that housed the little piece of movie history that had caused so many problems.

  “Okay,” I said. “I’ll get it for you. I have it safely stashed away back at the hotel.”

  Leandro and Khristos exchanged looks, silently consulting with one another, before Leandro motioned with the knife for me to start walking. I raised my hands in the air as I passed them, but Khristos slapped them back down to my sides.

  “Act natural,” he said. “And no tricks.”

  We emerged from the bushes and shuffled up the steps toward the Andromeda Residence. When we reached the gate, I pulled out the key to unlock it and was surprised to find it already open.

  I passed through first and out of the corner of my eye saw a man pressed up against the white stone wall to the right of the gate. He was tucked back in the shadows, but I saw his hand and it clutched a big rock. He didn’t move, so I kept walking. When Khristos swept in behind me, the man leapt from his hiding place and cracked the rock across Khristos’s skull. The Greek stud never knew what hit him. He dropped to the ground in an instant.

  I spun around to see Liam Killoran, his eyes wild with fury and his body crouched for an attack. By the time Leandro realized something was seriously wrong, Liam was on him like a jungle cat, yanking him to the ground, straddling his chest, and punching his face over and over again with his big-knuckled fist.

  I saw the glint of Leandro’s blade shimmer as he slowly brought his arm to drive it into Liam’s chest.

  “Watch out!” I yelled, sprinting forward and stepping on Leandro’s forearm, driving it back to the cement that surrounded the hotel’s glistening aquamarine swimming pool. I pushed all of my weight down on Leandro’s arm, and his fingers splayed from the pain, the knife clattering free. With my other foot, I kicked the knife across the ground, where it teetered at the edge of the pool but didn’t fall in.

  Liam stopped his relentless pounding for a split second, a bit taken aback by just how close he had come to having a knife plunged through his heart. Leandro seized the opportunity to drive the palm of his hand into Liam’s nose. Blood spurted everywhere as Liam instinctively covered his face. Leandro knocked him aside and ran back out through the gate, disappearing into the night.

  I stripped off my shirt and handed it to Liam, who was trying to stop the bleeding. “Here, pinch your nose with this.”

  Liam complied, a little dazed but otherwise unhurt.

  “Is it broken?” I asked.

  Liam shrugged. “Might be. Doesn’t matter. Been broken lots of times before.”

  You have to love the brawling Irish.

  “What are you doing here, Liam?”

  “I’ve been following you.”

  “That much I know. Our little reunion aboard the ferry is still very fresh in my mind.”

  “I was hoping that if I stuck close to you, you’d eventually slip up and give me some kind of evidence I could use to tie you to Claire’s murder.”

  “I didn’t kill her,” I said with a sigh, tired of constantly having to proclaim my innocence.

  Liam nodded as the gushing blood from his nose hopelessly stained my shirt. “I know. I saw you in the bar with that guy. You really are gay. You were telling the truth. You were never even romantically involved with Claire.”

  Finally. The big lug found a light bulb that wasn’t burnt out from too many all-night benders at his local Dublin pub.

  I explained to Liam why I was in Greece, who was holding my boyfriend captive, and how I intended to use Claire’s Academy Award to get him back. Liam, who felt bad for giving me such a hard time and who was probably the first straight man ever to be thrilled to learn I was gay, was now my staunch ally. He also figured that it was in his best interest to help me. Because in the end, the trail we were down just might lead to the true identity of his beloved Claire’s killer.

  Liam retrieved the discarded knife before hauling Khristos’s unconscious body up off the ground. He roughly grabbed the man’s arm and threw it around his neck. I got on the other side, and we dragged him toward the suite I was sharing with Laurette.

  Suddenly a light flipped on and a door opened. Delphina stuck her head out. “Is everything all right?”

  We both froze. And then I smiled. “A little too much to drink. I have no idea where he lives, so I’m going to let him sleep it off in my room.”

  “You naughty boys,” she said, giving us a wink. She stopped long enough to gaze longingly at Liam. “Sure is a shame you’re gay. Just my luck.”

  Liam so wanted to correct her impression. She was a lively, sumptuous young woman, but now was not the time to indulge his libido. I threw him a look of warning, and he kept his mouth shut. Delphina disappeared back inside her room, and after a moment, her light went out.

  Liam and I carried Khristos’s dead weight toward the door of the hotel suite as I fished for the key in my pocket. We hadn’t a moment to waste, because I had a sickening feeling that time was rapidly running out.

  Chapter 27

  When Liam and I burst through the door of the suite carrying Khristos’s limp body, the door to Laurette’s room was open. She shot up in bed with a start and yanked the covers up to her neck.

  “Jarrod, what’s happening? Who is that?”

  “Liam Killoran. He was Claire Richards’s boyfriend.”

  Laurette’s stunned look gave way to a more admiring gaze. She wasted no time in jumping out of bed and throwing on a see-through nylon robe over her silk teddy. She sashayed out into the living area like Kate Moss in Versace on a Paris runway. She was clearly out to impress.

  “Is this some kind of after-hours party? What’s everybody drinking?” she said with an inviting smile.

  Liam and I gently lowered Khristos onto a floral print couch. He slumped down, his head falling forward.

  Laurette crinkled her nose with disdain at the unconscious body in our room. “He obviously needs to be cut off.”

  Liam marched into the bathroom, picked up a glass, and filled it with water. As he came back, Laurette fell in behind him.

  “I’m Laurette, by the way,” she said, trying to ignore the bloodstains on his face and shirt.

  “Nice to meet you,” he said before splashing the water on Khristos’s face. Uli Karydes’s henchman coughed and sputtered. Liam then grabbed him by the hair, pulled his head back, and slapped him hard across the face with the back of his hand.

  Laurette raised an eyebrow at me. I shrugged. This was Liam’s show. I was just a spectator at this point.

  Khristos moaned, slowly coming around. Liam grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him. His eyes opened
. He was disoriented at first, trying to piece together the events that had gotten him here. When he turned to see me and Laurette, and the hulking Irishman hovering over him, he fell into a panic and made a move to stand up. Liam was ready for him. With a big, calloused hand, he shoved him back down.

  Liam reached into his pocket and pulled out Leandro’s knife. He played with it a little to build up the tension in the room. “Relax. Get comfortable. You may be here awhile,” Liam said, staring down at the now-nervous Khristos.

  “Mr. Karydes won’t like you taking one of his employees hostage,” Khristos said, keeping his eyes trained on Liam, whose nose was now caked with dried blood.

  “Well, the police here may turn the other cheek on some of your boss’s illicit activities, but I sure as hell bet the cops in London aren’t going to let him weasel out of a murder,” I said.

  “Murder? Mr. Karydes already told you. He had nothing to do with the Indian actor’s death,” Khristos said, his eyes darting around in search of some means of escape.

  “I’m not talking about Akshay. I’m talking about Claire Richards.”

  The mere mention of her name hit Liam hard. He fought back tears, trying with all his might to maintain his tough-guy act to keep Khristos in line.

  Khristos stared at me. “I don’t know who that is.”

  “Sure you do,” I said. “Your boss and I talked about her earlier today.”

  “I do not make a habit of eavesdropping on Mr. Karydes’s private conversations.”

  “You were standing right there. How could you not hear? Claire Richards is an Oscar-winning actress.”

  “Yes, yes, okay, maybe I have seen one or two of her movies,” he said.

  “Your boss is a big collector of movie memorabilia. Maybe he wanted to add an authentic Academy Award to his museum. Maybe he sent you to get one by any means necessary. Maybe you broke into her dressing room and things went sour. You accidentally killed her.”

  Khristos’s eyes widened. “That’s ridiculous! Claire Richards was on the stage in front of hundreds of people when she died. Someone put peanut oil in her make-up and she died of an allergic reaction.”