Island Casualty

by D. R. Ransdell

  “That’s a relief,” Rachel nodded.

  I tapped her arm, suggesting our departure. “Thanks so much. We were awfully worried.”

  “She will thank you some day. She is a lovely person, but she’s going through a difficult time right now.”

  “Will you tell her we came by?” Rachel asked.

  “With pleasure. Try coming back early tomorrow morning. No one will notice if you slip in.”

  The nurse waved as she disappeared into one of the other rooms.

  “I forgot to mention our names,” I said as the elevator door closed behind us.

  “Don’t worry,” said Rachel. “The nurse will remember us well enough.”

  Outside the day had already grown warm, but the breeze cooled the temperature to perfection. Since we had already accomplished our good deed for the day, I was ready to make use of the island paradise.

  “I’m ready for lunch and a swim,” I told Rachel. “How about it?”

  Rachel immediately agreed.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  We found comfort in routine. By the time we reached Eleni’s, it was a regular Amirosian summer day, meaning that our lunch of tomatoes sprinkled with olive oil and freshly baked bread was followed by a trip all the way across the street to the beach. Later it was an afternoon at the café doing light work for Nikos followed by an evening of singing songs at a pleasant taverna not unlike the place I was used to in Squid Bay. The evening was accentuated with mild flirting. Even though our misadventures had interfered with my hopes of an amorous vacation, Rachel finally sent me a glowing smile that meant more than “I like the way you sang the last song.”

  Lascar’s arrival at the taverna seemed only slightly strange, and less so after he sat down to gossip with Spiros. Instead of rushing us through the door after the last customers left, Lascar entertained us with stories of tourists who misplaced their passports, Athenians who received multiple traffic tickets because they insisted on driving around the port, and old ladies such as Mrs. Kofiniotis who always thought they’d lost their pets.

  “You never found the dog?” I asked as we left the taverna and approached Lascar’s car.

  The young man shrugged.

  Rachel got into the front seat. “Do you think it got run over?”

  “Probably. Or maybe it drowned.” Lascar started the engine. “Don’t tell Mrs. Kofiniotis, but it is only a dog. Maybe it ran to a new house. But last week the neighbors called three times to say they couldn’t sleep.”

  “Do you think they killed the poor dog?” Rachel asked.

  Lascar shrugged. “If I couldn’t sleep for three nights straight because of a barking dog … ” He didn’t finish the sentence, but he made a pistol out of his hand and mimicked taking a shot.

  “Have you gotten a full statement from the neighbors?” I laughed.

  “No, thanks God. We’ll tell Mrs. Kofiniotis that we’re still looking, but we won’t be. Some things are mysterious, and they should stay that way.”

  Slowly he guided the car out of the parking lot.

  “Do you mean things like Hari?” Rachel asked.

  Lascar applied his brakes too vigorously, causing the car to skid with an annoying crunching noise. “Not like Hari. That one was serious. A dog you can replace. A man, you can’t.”

  “Your boss doesn’t seem too interested in the case,” said Rachel. “I’m not sure he’s trying.”

  “You are wrong. Soumba cares about all his cases.”

  “But he’s given up on this one.”

  “No. We are still investigating, but we haven’t understood anything. That’s why Soumba won’t discuss it.”

  “For Amiros I suppose it’s an unusual situation,” I said.

  “Unusual? It’s the first time! And Soumba hates suicides. He says they are a waste.”

  “I agree completely,” I said.

  “I too. But listen, do you want to have some fun? We can drive by the house of Eleni and Nikos.”

  “Nobody’s there. They all went to her mother’s,” I said. I was not interested in a joy drive. I was in a hurry to get Rachel somewhere private and make up for some lost time.

  “Trust me!” Lascar headed for the stretch of road that wound north of the port. “I’ve worked with Petros for a couple of years now. He is so predictable that I could write a book about him.”

  As we neared Eleni’s house, we noticed a white car parked in front. Lascar cut the motor, turned off the lights, and pulled up behind the car. Petros was slumped awkwardly against the headrest. Presumably, he was fast asleep.

  “Watch now!” Lascar flicked on the headlights as he blew the horn. As promised, Petros offered a strong reaction, scrambling to a sitting position and fumbling for his flashlight. In his hurry to get out of the car, he slipped and fell to the ground, causing the flashlight to fly into the street.

  “Who’s there?”

  We laughed so hard that we couldn’t answer, and by then Petros had recognized the police car. He came over to us and stuck his head in the window. “Vlaka! I could have shot you by mistake.”

  “How? You left your gun in your desk at the office.”

  “What were you doing in my desk?”

  “Looking for rubber bands. Anyway, you and your gun were not at the same place.”

  “What if I’d gone back for it?”

  “You’d have missed out on part of your nap!” Lascar turned the engine back on, threw the car into reverse, and gassed the accelerator before he steered us towards Soumba’s.

  I wasn’t sure whether to be glad the night had been quiet or worried that had something been amiss, Petros would have been the last to notice it.

  We found the police chief watering his potted plants. “Better to water at night,” he said. “I learned this from you, Rachel. How is everything going?”

  “Perfectly,” Lascar said. “We woke Petros out of a sound sleep, so he should be alert for the next half hour.”

  “That one!” Soumba set down the watering bucket. “He could be in a circus. He can sleep in so many funny ways.”

  The men took turns telling jokes at Petros’ expense until I was sure Lascar would never go away, and Rachel and I would never have the chance to go upstairs alone. Lascar had an endless list of small-talk topics, and he seemed determined to cover every one. Rachel played along, feigning interest. No wonder she fit in so smoothly on the island even though she hadn’t mastered the language. She was always willing to go along with the flow.

  “When’s your daughter coming home?” Lascar asked abruptly.

  Finally I saw some method to his line of questioning. He’d wasted lots of my time working up to this indelicate question.

  “In a few days.”

  Lascar paced, hesitating. “Do you think she might like to have dinner with me?”

  “I’ll ask,” Soumba said.

  “Thanks. Well, good night!” He shot back into the car as if he’d seen an avalanche coming, but he waved as he drove off.

  “Lascar is sweet on your daughter, I take it,” I said.

  “He thinks.” Soumba sat on the porch stoop, avoiding wet spots, and we did the same. “Nice kid, but what he has to offer?”

  “Is she interested in him?”

  “Bah! At her age, how she would know?”

  Rachel laughed. “You’d be a tough father-in-law.”

  “Not my fault. My one daughter goes to university but acts like a child. She needs a decent husband, but she is not ready. I’ll know when she is.”

  I was afraid we’d get stuck on another eighteen rounds of small talk, but another neighbor meandered over to greet Soumba, and we were able to escape.

  “I wonder if all Greek dads are so protective,” Rachel whispered once we’d shut the door to our room.

  “I don’t know and I don’t care,” I said, kissing her.

  Once I started unbuttoning her blouse, she didn’t care either. It was as if we’d both been caged for the last week. Once the doors had been flun
g open, the wild things had sprung loose, never mind that we were trying to be quiet while thrashing about on a small bed barely big enough for one person, let alone for two.

  It wasn’t until afterwards while helping Rachel nestle into a comfortable position that I realized it had been exactly two months since I’d lost Louloudi.

  ***

  The next morning Rachel and I headed towards the port as soon as we’d managed coffee. We were surprised to find that the hospital was the liveliest place in town.

  Visitors chatted in the parking lot, gardeners trimmed the oleander bushes, and nurses clustered by the entrance.

  A tall, hefty, middle-aged woman approached the door at the same time we did. She had disheveled brown hair and lipstick that had been drawn too high over her upper lip. Her wrinkled dress had blue and white squares, a style fashionable years before. Since she was struggling with a loaded grocery bag, I reached in front of her to open the door.

  “Euxarist—” She started the word for “thanks” but got stuck three-fourths of the way through. “You!” She threw her belongings to the ground. Soup crackers scattered over the sidewalk.

  “You devil!”

  She grabbed my shirt, choking me with surprising strength. When I tripped over some of her supplies, we both fell to the ground.

  “You ruined my life!”

  Rachel screaming, grabbed the woman from behind, and tried unsuccessfully to pull her off. The latter swung wildly at my head, catching me somewhere on the left temple.

  The nurses yelled for help, and the hospital visitors approached, unsure what to do. By then we’d managed to arouse the entire medical staff. Two interns in white coats pulled the woman off me, grabbed her arms in a stronghold, and bundled her inside.

  Rachel knelt at my side. “Are you okay?” Bystanders asked the same.

  “Of course.” I had too much male pride to admit that the woman had delivered a blow that left my head ringing. Luckily, after I struggled to my feet, I didn’t fall back down.

  A man in a white coat and tie pushed his way through the growing crowd. He had a carefully trimmed moustache, but he’d cut more on the left side than on the right. “I’m Dr. Naraki,” he said. “Head of this hospital. I’m so sorry for what happened.”

  The doctor ushered us into the lobby, signaling for the other staff members to disperse. Immediately they did so. “What was that about?” I asked.

  Naraki led us around the corner to a lounge and pointed to the soft chairs. As we sat, he leaned forward as if to gain my confidence. “That woman has no idea what she’s doing. She’s been through a shock, and now she sees enemies everywhere.”

  I stroked my aching temple. “Why did you let her loose?”

  “She’s not a patient, and we haven’t yet convinced her to commit herself. She doesn’t have a specific ailment.” Naraki studied my face from different angles. “I’ll have an intern examine you.”

  “I’m all right.”

  “Are you sure?” Rachel asked. “She hit you pretty hard.”

  “No problem.” I stood as if my stance would prove I was okay.

  The doctor stood too. “American?”

  I nodded.

  “Visiting for the summer?”

  “For a couple of weeks.” I pointed to Rachel. “My friend here plays at O Kapetánios.”

  “Yes,” he said slowly. “The taverna that belongs to Spiros. I have not been there, but I have heard many good things.” He peered at my head and then reached his hand to my temple. “Is this where she got you?”

  “Yes.” I imagined a red spot.

  “Please, please accept my apologies.”

  “It’s obviously not your fault, and you apologized already. Don’t worry about me. I’m all right.”

  Lightly he put his hand on my shoulder. “I am truly sorry. But I need to ask that you not press charges. I realize the woman attacked you on our property, but we barely have enough money to pay our staff. We can’t afford another lawsuit.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I’ll be fine.”

  The doctor quickly shook my hand, afraid I might change my mind. “I cannot thank you enough, but please realize you’ve done us a very good turn. You’ll be repaid in kind some day.”

  “It’s not a big deal. But what’s the matter with that woman?”

  “She’s delusional. She sees things that aren’t there.”

  “That would be awful,” Rachel said.

  “Yes,” Dr. Naraki replied, “it would be worse than anything you can imagine. Paranoia is stronger than all the illnesses put together because it strangles people in their prime. We must remember how lucky we are to be in good health.”

  “I’ll try to remember,” I said. “At least for today.”

  We said our goodbyes, and then Rachel and I headed towards the main lobby.

  “Would you mind if we visited Letta some other time?” I asked. “I’d rather get the hell out of here.”

  Rachel squeezed my hand. “To tell you the truth, I was thinking the same thing.”

  I felt better as soon as I stepped outside the hospital and felt the sun caressing my face. The visitors who had witnessed the incident had disappeared. Birds had disposed of the crackers. We could almost pretend nothing had happened.

  “That woman was a real nut case,” I said.

  “I know.”

  “She looked kind of dopey, like maybe she was the result of inbreeding.”

  “From what I’ve heard, in the old days cousins often married one another. Her problem is serious, whatever it is.”

  I kicked at a plastic gum wrapper that had been dropped on the sidewalk. “I’m sure this is a fine island, Rachel, but just the same, I’ll look forward to getting back to Squid Bay.”

  In reality I wasn’t sure I wanted to be there either. It wouldn’t be the first time I would have to rethink the phrase about any port in a storm.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  By late afternoon I was on a rollercoaster high. First, Soumba had called to say we could return to Eleni’s even though he’d keep Petros and Lascar on guard, so we no longer had to be dependent on the police chief for lodging. A slight wind had generated enough energy that the evening was pleasantly warm rather than overly so. And finally, all the vibes I was getting from Rachel were positive. Even if the week had been the strangest of my life, I’d also made new friends. Everyone I’d met on Amiros had treated me with kindness and welcomed me into their circle, something I never counted on back home. Nikos and Eleni had been perfect hosts despite the fact that I’d brought turmoil to their quiet world. As I relaxed at Nikos’ Café, I was thankful that the only thing I needed to do was to keep track of the sunset. That much I thought I could handle.

  Nikos sat down with me at the back table while Eleni and Rachel prepared orders at the bar. “What a boring afternoon!” he complained. “No fires or car chases, only a madwoman. What’s a fellow to do?”

  “Next year I think I’ll skip vacation. I don’t have the fortitude for it.”

  Nikos grinned. “Don’t tell Rachel. She feels bad that your holiday has been such a disaster, but who would have guessed that one person would have gotten himself into so much trouble in a so short a time?”

  “I must be a disaster magnet. I would have been safer dodging bullets in downtown L.A.”

  We looked out on the street where a few straggling tourists were making their way from the beach back to their lodgings. Housewives carted bags of groceries home to prepare their evening meals while children darted among them.

  “If you don’t walk fast enough on Amiros, you might get run down by a tricycle.” Nikos noticed a watery smudge on the table and wiped it away with his apron. “Say, did you ever get through to your brother? He’s called three times.”

  “Phone tag. It wasn’t urgent. He left me the address for some website.”

  “What of?”

  “I didn’t check. I didn’t have access at Soumba’s, and on my phone, the roaming charges are more t
han airfare back to the States.”

  Nikos whipped out his cell. “I don’t suppose you remember the address?”

  I didn’t, but it only took me a moment to access my brother’s text.

  “See the ‘dot pan’?” Nikos asked as he read over my shoulder. “It stands for ‘panepistímio.’”

  “Which means?”

  “University.”

  Nikos clicked away until he located the address. Then he squinted until he went cross-eyed even after he enlarged the screen.

  “Let’s go down to Yiorgos’ Bar,” Nikos suggested. “He’s got a regular computer.” He rose, enthusiastic. “Eleni! Rachel! We’ll be back.”

  The girls nodded from their perches behind the counter.

  Nikos and I trooped down the street and made the necessary salutations to Yiorgos. In the back corner of the establishment, teens crowded the one computer.

  “Hey, Nikos,” said the tall teen who had his hands on the keyboard. “Want to play Soccer Killer with us?”

  “Not today, Cleto. But would you let us check a website?”

  “Sure. Tell me the address.”

  Soon the screen revealed a page in bright red and white lettering: Welcome to Sociology 301. Instructor: Dr. Ixion H. Kalamaras.

  “What do you think?” Nikos asked.

  It had never occurred to me that Hari might have another first name.

  “What kind of name is ‘Ixion’?” I asked.

  “An old one!” laughed Cleto.“Hey, Nikos, going back to school?”

  “Not me! We’re looking up a friend. Do you mind?”

  Cleto started clicking around. The homepage of Dr. Ixion H. Kalamaras listed course policies and assignments. Neat boxes suggested extra readings. A syllabus detailed projected topics and warned students of changes to the regular schedule: here he had to travel to Salonika to a conference, there he had to miss class to attend his mother’s funeral. Nikos flipped through the different screens.

  “This is interesting,” I said, “but I don’t understand why my brother wanted me to see it. Or how he found it. Or whether it’s the right guy.”