Murder in Mykonos ak-1

by Jeffrey Siger

  'Fine. He can visit you in jail,' Andreas said, and gave Kouros a take-him-away gesture.

  Kouros motioned for Ilias to follow him. Ilias laughed, until Kouros grabbed him, swung him around, and cuffed his hands behind him. Not the usual treatment afforded politically connected Mykonians. Ilias no longer was laughing. He began to curse.

  Andreas simply waited until he'd finished. 'We came here to ask you questions. You're the one who's turned yourself into a murder suspect.'

  The color drained from Ilias' face. It was as gray as his hair. 'Murder? I didn't do anything to the girl. I don't know what happened to her. She never came back.'

  There was no need to note he'd just admitted to lying — they were way past that point.

  'Where are the tapes?'

  The man looked as if he might faint. 'What tapes?'

  Andreas threw him into a chair. 'Asshole, where are the tapes? You're the number one suspect in a murder case. Now try to change my mind.'

  'I want to speak to my cousin.' He sounded frightened.

  Andreas smacked him across the face with the back of his hand. 'Take him out of here, Yianni. We'll get what we want from him back at the station.'

  Ilias was strong and tried to resist when Kouros took his arm to pull him out of the chair, but Kouros was stronger and enjoyed his work. The sound of Ilias bouncing off the walls got the receptionist yelling, 'Is everything all right in there?'

  Kouros had Ilias pressed against the wall with his arms locked behind him in cuffs. Breathing heavily, Ilias yelled back, 'Yes, Roz. All is okay.' Then he said quietly, 'She came by boat.'

  Kouros didn't budge. 'Keep talking,' said Andreas.

  'She was to stay four days but left before.' It was a struggle for him to speak.

  'What do you mean "left before"?' Andreas' voice was merciless.

  'She disappeared. We never saw her after the second day.'

  'What did you do with her things?'

  'I threw them out.'

  All of that matched with what his night man had told them. Now to see if what else they'd been told was true.

  'I want to see the tapes.'

  'I don't know what you're talking about,' Ilias said, his voice cracking.

  Andreas stepped forward so that his eyes were twelve inches from Ilias' and spoke in a precise, determined whisper. 'Let me put it this way, you fucking pervert, we know you have a video camera hidden in your "special room," and frankly, I don't give a shit how often you beat off to those fantasies of yours, but if you force us to tear this hotel apart brick by brick until we find that camera and those tapes — and we will find them — you better pray hers is with them. Otherwise, we'll know you tossed it because you didn't want us to know what was on it.'

  Ilias was in full panic. 'No, no! I had nothing to do with her. The tape is downstairs. You'll see what I say is true.'

  So, the night man was right about the tapes, too.

  'I want to see the girl's room.' Andreas gestured for Kouros to let him off the wall.

  'There's someone in it.'

  'So what?'

  'Please, this will ruin the reputation of my hotel.'

  Andreas couldn't believe the guy. He's a murder suspect and he's worried about disturbing a guest.

  'We're going to take the handcuffs off, but if you even breathe funny, we'll drag you out of here by your balls. Understand?'

  'Yes.'

  'Now show us.' Andreas nodded to Kouros to take off the cuffs.

  He took them first to a locked room on the bottom floor where he kept the tapes. Her time at the hotel was recorded on one of hundreds. They must go back years. Possibly decades. Andreas' heart was pounding. Could he be the one? 'Where's her room?'

  'Next door.'

  They knocked on the door but there was no answer. Ilias opened it with his passkey. It was tiny. Women's clothes were scattered as if the occupant had left in a hurry. Andreas looked at Ilias. 'You have tapes of her too?'

  No answer.

  Andreas slapped him again. 'I'm talking to you.'

  'Yes.'

  'Where is she?'

  'I don't know. She must have gone out.'

  'How do you know?'

  'I was taping her while she slept.'

  Andreas wanted to punch him. 'Where's the camera?'

  He showed them two — one in the bedroom, one in the bathroom.

  'Yianni, get him out of here. Take him back to the station and let him call whoever the hell he wants. He'll need them all. Also, get someone over here to watch both rooms until forensics gets here from Syros. I'll wait for him.'

  Ilias started to object but Andreas gave him a warning look and he went quietly.

  Andreas sat on the edge of the bed and called Tassos from his cell phone. Tassos sounded as excited at hearing what Andreas had found as Andreas was at telling him. Forensics would be on the way within an hour. Andreas hung up and stared down at the floor, thinking.

  Why did speaking to Tassos make him think of his father? And why was that bothering him? He thought he'd gotten over the anger. Eight is a bad age to lose a dad. You're just getting to know him, appreciate him, learn from him, and poof; suddenly he's gone. It can make you a very angry young man, finding yourself instantly a fatherless, only son. Maybe that's why I've never married, he thought — to spare some other eight-year-old the pain. Nah, that's not it. Just haven't found the right girl yet. Thank God for my sister's kids, or I'd never hear the end of it from Mother.

  He looked up. A pair of French doors opened onto a small balcony. The scene beyond was magnificent: a serene silver-blue sea and shades-of-brown distant hills dotted with tiny white houses under an Aegean-blue sky. He wondered how many other young women had seen that view as one of their last on earth.

  Andreas couldn't believe his luck at finding the killer so quickly. It seemed too good to be true.

  8

  The early-morning bus to Paradise was filled with two types: the totally wasted who had not slept and were returning to the campgrounds by the beach, and the totally alert who had not partied. Annika felt closer to the former but tried acting like the latter. When the bus arrived, Annika followed the sober ones to the beach. She decided it was better to stay with that crowd because the others — and stragglers out of Paradise's notorious all-night dance clubs — were busy making up for one last shot at whatever they hadn't quite been able to achieve by midmorning.

  Her crowd headed to the end farthest away from the clubs, past the rented umbrellas and loungers to an open section of beach. She followed them. They put down their towels. She did the same. They took off all their clothes. She didn't know what to do.

  Nudity was common on Mykonos, but these people were her parents' age. She looked back up the beach to see where else she could go, but something told her she was least likely to be bothered here. They all seemed to know one another, and the group kept growing. Before long she was surrounded by naked Karlas, Georges, Sharons, and Edwards from all over the world. As hesitant as she was to take off her suit, she felt she'd attract more attention in it rather than out of it; so with a 'when in paradise' attitude she stripped naked as the rest. No one seemed to notice. They all seemed so nice. She fell asleep on her belly with a towel over her head to the sounds of old friends having a good time. Andreas told the officer watching the rooms not to leave the hotel until the woman staying in the Vandrew room returned. He wanted to know how she ended up in there. Then he left to see Pappas. There still was the matter of those other churches to follow up on.

  Contractors, as a rule, aren't in their offices much, and Pappas was no exception. It took about an hour before Andreas found him, he was over by Elia Beach, where he was supervising the 'renovation' addition of two dozen mountainside villas to an already huge hotel. There were mixed feelings over the effect those hotels had on the beauty of the island but not on how they affected the families who owned them. They made them very rich — and powerful enough to go on 'renovating' away to their hearts' content.
>
  Andreas met him in the hotel restaurant.

  'So, Chief, how can I help you this time?' asked Pappas, from behind his sunglasses.

  Andreas knew this was going to cost him. 'I'm trying to locate some old churches.'

  'Which ones?'

  Andreas handed him the list. Pappas looked at it. 'These are Father Paul's,' he said, his voice hard.

  'I know. He gave me the names.'

  Pappas' voice grew loud. 'You can't possibly think he had anything to do with the murder.'

  Andreas kept his cool. 'I think it's best for your friend that you keep your voice down.'

  'Don't tell me what to do,' he said in a quieter voice.

  'I didn't say he's a suspect,' Andreas said. 'We found a dead body in an abandoned church. Now we're checking out other abandoned churches for clues.'

  'Why?'

  Obviously Pappas didn't know about the other three bodies. If he had, he wouldn't be asking why. That meant word hadn't leaked out yet, because if it had, Pappas would be among the first to know.

  'It's routine.' Andreas was getting weary of playing up to Pappas' ego. 'Look, if you want to help, fine; if not, I'll find someone else. I figured I could trust you not to start gossiping that your friend Father Paul might be a suspect just because I'm asking about his churches.' Yeah, sure.

  Pappas stared at him for several seconds. 'You know, I'm getting a lot of grief about my trucks hauling concrete at seven in the morning through that neighborhood up there.' He pointed north. 'On the road to Aghios Sostis Beach, but it gives me the edge I need to finish my projects on time.' The price had been set.

  Andreas shrugged. 'I don't see a problem with that, as long as your drivers aren't any drunker than the rest at that hour.'

  Pappas smiled. 'Do you have a map?'

  Andreas handed him one and watched Pappas make eight marks and write eight names before handing it back.

  'Thank you.'

  'No problem, Chief. By the way…' Andreas couldn't believe he had the balls to ask for more. 'Ilias is a pervert, everyone knows that, but he's no murderer.'

  How the hell does word get out so fast? Of course, Ilias' cousin's the mayor and Pappas is the former mayor. 'What do you mean, everyone knows he's a pervert?'

  Pappas gave his best 'you should know this already' look. 'Ilias is kinky, he films the women in his hotel, then watches the videos with his girlfriends. He gets off on having them imitate what he's filmed.'

  'How do you know all this?' Andreas' voice was official.

  He snickered. 'We have the same girlfriends. We all do. It's a small island.'

  Andreas took the we to mean the Mykonos powers that be.

  'I'm not telling you how to do your job, Chief, but Ilias isn't your killer. Besides, he's probably out by now. The mayor's already spoken to Syros.'

  Andreas was certain his anger was showing now. 'Anything else?'

  Pappas obviously was enjoying this chance to lecture the new boy in town on how to get along. 'No, but good luck in finding your killer. I'm sure it's some Albanian. Find one, and the whole town will support you.'

  In other words, if Andreas knew what was good for him, he'd stay away from the Mykonians. Andreas wanted to wipe the smirk off the asshole's face with a lecture of his own, on the perils of allowing a serial killer to run around his island paradise murdering tourist women, but instead he thanked him and left. He had churches to visit. Andreas' first call once he was back on the road was to Tassos. He wanted to keep Ilias in custody.

  'Don't worry about it,' Tassos said, his voice calm, reassuring.

  'What do you mean don't worry, he's our number one suspect.' Andreas was yelling in the Greek style.

  'Andreas, relax. Where's he going to go? His whole life is on Mykonos, and we'll have him watched day and night. It'll be like house arrest — in a very big house.'

  Andreas knew Tassos was trying to put the best face on a politically impossible situation. It didn't make him any happier, but there was no way Ilias was staying in jail without solid evidence tying him to a murder. Showing he was a pervert wasn't enough of a reason for Syros politicians keeping the Mykonos mayor's cousin in jail. 'Damn it.'

  Tassos must have sensed Andreas' tension through the phone. 'I know.' He paused until Andreas was breathing normally. 'So, what about our former number one suspect?'

  'I'm on my way to check out his churches,' he grumbled.

  'Do you really think he'd be crazy enough to name places where he buried bodies?'

  'Who knows, he's damn smart, and if he didn't tell me, he knew we'd find out anyway. It was the savvy move.' The anger had drained from Andreas' voice.

  'Guess you're right. If you find anything, let me know and I'll send the forensic guys from the hotel over to meet you.'

  'Thanks. Any luck yet?'

  'A lot of tapes of what must be five hundred women, indexed and cross-indexed by name, address, age, country of origin — the stuff off passports.' He paused.

  'And?' Andreas was not in the mood to enjoy Tassos' penchant for the dramatic.

  'By body parts. Hair color — top and bottom — breast size, nipple color… need I go on? I think you get the idea.'

  'Fuck.' Andreas shook his head. 'Trouble is, unless we get a match to another dead woman, it's all consistent with what we already know — he's a pervert.' He slowed down to turn onto the road leading to the old mines.

  Tassos said, 'I have someone trying to come up with a match, but I'm not sure we'll find one even if he's our guy.'

  'Why?'

  'He could have destroyed tapes of girls he killed.'

  'But we saw Helen Vandrew on tape.'

  'Yeah.' Tassos' voice was tentative, as if searching for an answer. 'But maybe he hadn't gotten around to destroying that one yet.'

  Andreas was impatient — he knew there was something else. 'What's bothering you?'

  'My Scandinavian wasn't in the index, and it goes back years before we found her.'

  After a short silence, Andreas, clearly exasperated, muttered, 'Nothing's easy. Well, maybe she's not in it, but they'll find her on the tapes.'

  'Maybe.' Tassos didn't sound encouraged. 'Good luck with your churches.'

  'I'll take that to mean "May all the bones be old bones." Call you later. I'm almost at the first one.' Andreas hung up.

  He pulled off the road at a place Pappas had marked on the map. He shut off the engine but didn't move, just looked up the hill at a ramble of dry brush and neglected stone walls and stared at the whitewashed church near the top. He still remembered standing in a museum as a child with his father, staring at the side of a famous sculpture and wondering what all the fuss was about. It looked so very simple and unremarkable — until he moved to face it and saw head-on all the terrifying power and complexity of snake-haired Medusa. Please, not again, he prayed. When Annika awoke there was a light, azure pareo draped over her body. It was not hers, and she had no idea who had put it there, but whoever did had spared her a horrific sunburn. She must have been sleeping for hours. She sat up, carefully folded it, and looked around. No one seemed to be paying attention to her except for a few young Greek men waving for her to join them.

  An attractive, middle-aged woman on the towel next to her was reading a magazine entitled California Living. Annika asked if she knew who her Good Samaritan was. The woman pointed to a very fit, silver-haired man lying naked on his stomach two towels away. He was facing them but seemed asleep. Annika was sure she'd seen him before but couldn't place him.

  'Just give it to me, darling, and I'll see that Paul gets it when he wakes up.'

  'Thanks,' Annika said, and handed her the pareo. She was hungry and decided to get something to eat at the taverna on the beach. The Greek guys started calling to her, first in Greek and then in English. She ignored them as she dressed, gathered up her things, and walked to the taverna.

  She chose the table closest to the sea and ordered water, a Greek salad, and grilled octopus. She felt at peace. She also felt
someone watching her — but that wasn't unusual; the reason she picked that table was so she could look at the sea without someone in her line of vision trying to catch her attention. Not that anyone could have, for she was mesmerized by the endless stream of swimmers climbing onto a nearby reef running parallel to the beach.

  Once on the reef, most preened a bit, as if they were walking on water. But their godlike experiences were not without risk, for the reef was covered in sea urchins — with porcupine-like spines. She watched one strutting, barefoot waterwalker after another suddenly jump in the air and grab a pierced foot. As for the occasional naked swimmer unwary enough to sit on the reef, all Annika could think of was 'ouch!' She was feeling slightly guilty at her schadenfreude fascination but not enough to look away. After all, she thought, it's sort of their fault for not having the common sense to know better, and besides, it was very funny.

  At around five, people started drifting in from the beach to begin their early-afternoon partying. That was when the guys began bothering her again. It was time to head back to the hotel. She walked behind the taverna to the bus stop next to the campgrounds. It was just a wider bit of dirt than the rest of the road down to the beach.

  She watched a faint-brown-and-green bus wind down the road toward where she stood. Brown and green were the colors of the hills. She wondered about the significance of Mykonos buses being land-colored instead of blue and white like the sea and sky. Probably just a practical one — light brown and green don't show the ever-present dust so much; when the winds are blowing it is like brown powdered sugar flying everywhere.

  The bus at that hour was virtually empty except for a few older couples and locals lucky enough to squeeze in some time at the beach before getting back to their jobs. She decided to go into town rather than back to the hotel.

  She had a coffee under a canopied taverna on the harbor and watched Petros and Irini do their tourist thing — posing for pictures and giving the occasional nip at gestures deemed unfriendly — Mykonos' clipped-wing, pelican mascots were direct descendants, some claimed, of the pair donated to the island by Mykonos lover Jacqueline Kennedy not-yet-Onassis.