Island Casualty

by D. R. Ransdell

  His name was Haridemos Kalamaras. I fingered his fiancée’s engagement ring, which was still in my pocket.

  Nikos ran his hands through his bush of unruly black hair as if for inspiration. “I know it’s hard to get such news first thing in the morning.”

  As Rachel handed me a cup of coffee, I was aware that the three of them were equally concerned, not about the dead man, but about how I would take his demise.

  “I don’t know what to say.” I hoped that the relief I felt at not having angered my new friends with my senseless babble about personal tragedy didn’t mean I was callous deep inside.

  “Thirty-nine,” Nikos said. “He was only ten years older than me.”

  “I’m exactly his age,” I said. That made him much too young to die.

  Instead of wondering whether coming to Greece on a lark had been a mistake, I wondered how big a mistake it had been. I folded the newspaper in half so I wouldn’t have to see the dead man’s face.

  Eleni pushed a plate of cookies in my direction, drawing me back into the present. “I’m sorry. Rachel said you also lost a close friend back home. This must seem like a continuation.”

  I couldn’t take my eyes off the newspaper. “I barely knew the guy. I shouldn’t care, but it’s weird that I met him one day and he’s dead the next. If that weren’t bad enough, we were both coming to the island for holidays and were exactly the same age.”

  “It’s too unexpected,” Rachel said.

  I bit my lip. “Even if we can’t know when we’re going to go, he was too young to be expecting it. Or maybe you never really expect it.”

  My hosts nodded in somber agreement.

  “What else did the article say about him?”

  Nikos waved at me to continue reading.

  “‘Haridemos Kalamaras, formerly of Athens, was found early this morning floating off the shore of Lepidopteros.’ Is that around here?”

  Eleni nodded. “It’s a fishing village south of here along the coast.”

  “‘Dr. Iakonou is not ready to make a final comment, but he believes the man had been dead for several hours before he was found. Kalamaras was fully clothed and his wallet was inside his pocket when he drowned.’ That’s odd.”

  “The west coast can get rough, and the beaches are mostly rock, but there have not been any storms lately,” said Eleni.

  “What about suicide?” I asked before realizing how silly the question was.

  “He’d brought an engagement ring with him. He was planning to start his life, not end it,” said Rachel.

  “Right, right.”

  “If I were committing suicide, I’d take my clothes off,” said Nikos.

  Rachel dried the final plate and leaned against the sink. “Maybe she turned him down and he was devastated. I can’t help thinking that he unconsciously left the ring behind because he was unsure about the response.”

  I frowned. “He didn’t seem worried.”

  “So her rejection came as a terrible surprise.”

  Nikos stood and circled the table. “Haridemos, or let’s say ‘Hari’ for short, gave no hint as to the business he’d come for?”

  “No. But the briefcase was worn. He didn’t start working last week. He seemed organized, and he was familiar with both the town and the ferry system.”

  “Apparently he often travels here on business,” said Nikos. “It’s not a lot to go on. Did he strike you as a salesman?”

  “Not particularly.” I kept reading. “‘No details are known of Mr. Kalamaras’ trip to Amiros. He was not registered at any hotel nor has the purpose of his visit been confirmed. He evidently arrived early yesterday on the ferry from Athens. Police are currently awaiting a fax from Happy Island Ferry to confirm. Anyone with pertinent information is urged to contact the police.’ Should I do so?”

  “No need,” said Nikos. “I talked to the police chief this morning. I told Soumba, that is, Nikos Soumbasakis, that you’d met the man, but he didn’t think it was significant.”

  “Your police chief doesn’t care about a dead body?”

  “Not particularly.”

  “That’s comforting.”

  “Don’t misunderstand. Soumba’s philosophy is based on practicalities. There aren’t any indications of a crime. In a place where the population spends half its time gossiping, Soumba is careful not to be an alarmist. Since the dead man is beyond help, Soumba is not that anxious to chase after his trail.”

  “This Soumba fellow said there was a trail?”

  “No. By the time I called this morning, he and the junior officers were trying to contact the man’s relatives but so far no luck.”

  “The police assume it was an accident then?”

  Nikos sighed. “Believe it or not, a lot of Greeks don’t know how to swim.”

  “You must be kidding. People come from all over the world to enjoy your beaches.”

  Eleni clasped her hands as in prayer. “The statistics are sickening. On Amiros only about 30% of the population reports being able to swim.”

  “You’re a good swimmer,” I said. I’d seen her swim long and hard the previous afternoon.

  “My mother sent us to classes just as her parents had sent her. She wanted to make sure my sister and I wouldn’t be scared of the water.”

  “I couldn’t stand living near the sea if I were,” I said, “but Californians probably aren’t good swimmers either.”

  Eleni flicked a small beetle off the table. “You will notice it over and over, people fearing the water. At my school, I teach the seven-year-old children. One time I proposed a class on swimming safety. The school received complaints from terrified mothers who did not want their children to participate.”

  “That’s the island mentality,” Nikos said. “I love the Amirosians, but sometimes they’re limited. The problem is historical, though. The island used to be famous for its sponges. Young men would risk their lives diving without proper equipment, and fatalities were frequent. If you ask around, almost everyone on Amiros had some relative who drowned. Maybe it was Uncle Zachary from fifty or eighty years ago, but chances are that the whole family is too frightened of the water to get near it.”

  I knew little about Hellenic imports, but I’d noticed souvenir sponges for sale on the ferry. “Maybe this Hari wanted to take a boat ride. Are there are any records of rentals?”

  “There’s no place to rent a boat in Lepidopteros,” Nikos continued. “It’s a tiny fishing village. Any boats would belong to islanders, and no vessels have been reported missing.”

  “Could Hari have had business in the village?”

  “The fishermen are elderly and set in their ways,” Eleni said. “I doubt that he hoped to establish business connections.”

  “Maybe he needed to get away to think things through,” suggested Rachel.

  Eleni nodded. “I think so. Perhaps he had second thoughts and wanted to reconsider his proposal.”

  “Granted, his first name was Haridemos, and the note signed with an ‘H,’ but you’re only assuming the ring was his,” Nikos said.

  The children burst into the room clamoring that they’d been quiet long enough and that it was time to go to the beach. Rachel reached for a beach bag; Nikos did the same. They’d been waiting on me so that they could break the news about Hari.

  Rachel gently patted my back. “Join us when you’re ready. We always park our umbrellas at the same place.”

  “Wait,” I said, addressing Eleni. “Your friend told us about the woman who went to the café searching for Hari,” I said. “That should have been significant.”

  Eleni was packing cold drinks into a bag. “You’re right. Remind me to mention it when we see Soumba.”

  “You’re planning to visit the police chief?”

  “We don’t need to,” laughed Nikos as he donned flip-flops. “He’s hooked on our cherry ice cream. He stops by for a sundae almost every afternoon.”

  Carrying a big umbrella, Nikos led the troop outside. Rachel handed me
a key so I could lock up.

  Absently I drank a couple of coffees. I was still in a haze when I went back up to Rachel’s apartment and tried to gather my thoughts. I was thankful no one was angry at me and that my confession about Louloudi had gone practically unnoticed, but the news about the poor dead man was unnerving. For him Amiros had turned out to be a lousy paradise.

  Once I joined the others on the beach I sensed their efforts to keep my mind off the subject, but not even the sea, usually a trusted friend, was a comfort. Each stroke I took reminded me of Hari’s drowning. I kept replaying the conversation we’d had, thinking I’d missed something important, but I wasn’t smart enough to figure out what it was.

  I elected to spend the evening alone, rejecting both the banter of the café and the music of the taverna for a long walk on the beach. Rachel seemed to understand. When she got back from work, she let me take her in my arms and cling to her silently as if she knew I was trying my best just to hold on.

  Chapter Six

  I woke to the sound of Eleni softly calling at the bedroom door. Rachel was snuggled against my chest, but when I scooted her off, she didn’t seem to notice.

  Eleni opened the door a crack and handed me The Amirosian. Her face showed concern. “I’m sorry to wake you. Nikos said not to panic, but you had better read this. Come downstairs for coffee when you’re ready.” Quietly she retreated.

  “What’s up?” Rachel lifted her head a centimeter from the pillow.

  I threw the paper on the bed. “Murder Suspect Wanted,” shouted the headline. Below, a grainy picture showed the back of my head as I spoke with Hari at the café. I was gesturing grandly as if we were the kind of friends who exchanged vivid opinions. For once I snapped awake without coffee. I sank onto the bed and read the short article:

  The authorities are happy to report a break in yesterday’s case involving the drowning victim. Haridemos Kalamaras was seen having coffee yesterday morning. His discussion with the man in this photo, probably another Turkish spy, undoubtedly led to his demise. Any information should be delivered immediately to the authorities.

  “Are you a Turkish spy?” she asked with sleepy eyes.

  “As of yesterday.” I covered my face with my hands. “This is a nightmare.”

  Rachel reached over and kissed the top of my head. “Perhaps not that bad. But it does seem to be a sign that you shouldn’t take vacations.” She stood and started dressing. “We’ll see what Eleni says. She’s always level-headed.”

  As we went down the spiral staircase to the first floor, we found Eleni and Nikos having coffee on the porch, pouring over other sections of the paper.

  Eleni beckoned us over. She’d brought the coffee pot outdoors. She quickly poured us cups before pushing over the sugar.

  “I better not sit outside. I might scare the neighbors.”

  “Luckily it’s a bad picture,” said Nikos.

  “The photographer couldn’t get a proper position,” said Eleni, holding up her hands as if studying the angles. “He must have been standing at the edge of the pier.”

  “When are the police coming to pick me up?”

  “Do not be silly,” said Eleni. “Turkish spies are spotted several times a year whenever the newspaper needs to sell more copies. It is as bad as the newspapers you have in the U.S. that tell about the aliens.”

  Nikos stirred his coffee. “Still, you should go talk to Soumba about it in case someone happens to recognize you and makes wild accusations.”

  “Will you take me to see him?”

  “Finish your coffee.”

  I drained my cup in a gulp. Then we climbed in the old Toyota and drove away in silence. I couldn’t speak. I was appalled that anyone would link me to the death of an innocent man. As Nikos drove me along the coast, I watched the wind kick at the waves.

  “You don’t have to be worried,” Nikos finally said. “Soumba is a regular fellow. Just tell him what happened.”

  “I’m sorry to have caused trouble for you and your family.”

  “You haven’t. This is a misunderstanding. Keep it in perspective.”

  I got out my wallet and fished out a business card. Joey’s eyes peered out from the small photo. “I’ll probably need you to call my brother. He can pay for a lawyer.”

  Nikos glanced at the card as he placed it on the dashboard and then did a double-take. “Twins?”

  “I’m a bit older, but we look so much alike that everyone gets us confused.”

  “Brilliant! That must be fun.”

  I ignored Nikos’ accurate appraisal. “If I need to make bail, he can get his hands on more money than I can.”

  “He’s not a musician then?”

  Nikos was trying to kid me, but I was too distraught to take anything lightly.

  “He’s an architect. Mostly he remodels offices. He could probably wire you money within half an hour, depending on the time of day.”

  We came to a stretch of beach with a makeshift parking lot. Nikos slowed to a halt and set his hands on the steering wheel.

  “Andy, you need to get a hold of yourself.”

  “What’s the matter?”

  “You act like you robbed a bank.”

  I kicked off my Tevas. “Who would believe that I met Hari for the first time at that café?”

  Nikos turned sideways in his car seat so that he could see me more easily. “Eleni and Rachel and I. And we were with you that whole day. We would have noticed if you’d killed someone.”

  In the distance, the waves danced. I wished I’d opted for a morning swim. Now the water was making fun of me for passing it by. I should have known from the moment I couldn’t figure out what to pack that I shouldn’t have left Squid Bay at all. I’d been trying to escape my problems, but they’d followed me in cosmic waves.

  “What’s really the matter?” he asked.

  I could feel his stare but couldn’t return it. My breathing came hard. I was being suffocated by Nikos’ compact car. Even though the windows were open, I couldn’t get enough air.

  “Maybe you’re thinking we hardly know you, and maybe that’s true,” Nikos said. “But when Eleni and I met you in Squid Bay, we had the same reaction Rachel did. You seemed like a decent fellow. When she asked us if we thought she should invite you to come to Amiros and stay at our house, we thought it was a great idea. Eleni and I saw the connection between you and Rachel sooner than either of you did. Rachel was elated after meeting you because she’d assumed she’d never find another kindred spirit, a male musician with a sense of adventure and interests outside music. But right now you’re acting like the cat that swallowed the birdcage along with the parrot. Whatever it is, get it off your chest by telling me rather than acting weird at the police station.”

  You can sense when an act of kindness is sincere. Nikos was trying his best to help me, and I was making things more difficult. I’d rarely chosen to confide in another man besides my brother or perhaps a fellow musician, so it felt strange to do so now under such trying circumstances. If I hadn’t so desperately needed an ally, I probably couldn’t have.

  “I have a knack for wrong decisions,” I told him. “Maybe Rachel told you. In California I caused a woman’s death.”

  “What did you do, Andy? Put a gun to her head? Push her down the stairs? Anyway, what does a woman back in the States have to do with anything here on the island?”

  “Don’t you ever get the feeling that your whole life has been wrong?” I knew the answer to my own question. Such a thought had never crossed his mind.

  “Hold it!” Nikos laughed. “Now you sound like a bad movie.” He pointed to the glove compartment.

  When I opened it, a pack of Marlboro Lights fell out.

  “Want one?” he asked.

  “I don’t let myself smoke in the morning.”

  “Eleni doesn’t let me smoke in the morning either, but what the hell? Hand one over.”

  What the hell was right. We opened the car doors for extra ventilation and lit
up. Nikos sat calmly against the seat, watching the sea instead of me.

  “You’ve had a run of bad luck,” he finally said. “Don’t think you’re the only one who’s managed to muck things up. A few years ago, I was stuck in a dead-end job in Athens. I felt about like you do. I hated who I was and what I was doing. I had a good job with the city government, but I spent all day looking at tax returns and predicting the ones that most needed investigating. The consequence was that I took everything too seriously. I followed every rule at work and tried to apply rules to my private life. The system didn’t work. You want to know why? Real life doesn’t go by the rules. As soon as you figure that out, you’ll be okay with yourself.”

  “I keep telling myself that I couldn’t have acted any differently, but I don’t even buy my own story.”

  Nikos reached for a lever and pushed the seat back so that he could stretch out his legs. “You’ve got to cut people slack. At the same time, you have to cut some for yourself. Do you want to know how I got down to Amiros? My ulcers were so bad my doctor thought I was a lost cause. I asked him what I should do. He kept saying, ‘You must do what you want.’ Very Greek. In other words, he couldn’t make a decision for me or even give me a recommendation. I had to think it through on my own and be responsible for my well-being. I didn’t like his strategy, but in the end it was the best course.”

  Nikos wasn’t a muscle man and had a few extra pounds around the waist, but at the beach, I’d witnessed how fast he could run to keep up with his adopted sons. “You hardly look like someone with health problems.”

  Nikos pulled his head back and slowly let it drop forward. “You didn’t see me before. On weekdays I dragged myself to work and on weekends I stayed in bed. I was completely depressed, but I couldn’t figure out what to do about it. Then I got a break. I found out that a distant cousin wanted to sell a café on an island so far removed from the capital that most Athenians can’t point it out on a map.”

  “That’s how you first came to Amiros?”

  “Absolutely. And I’m not leaving unless they kick me out.”