Island Casualty

by D. R. Ransdell

  “Then I’d better start practicing! But not today. Joey, we thought we’d give you a quick tour of the island. The coast line is spectacular, especially as you head north.”

  “I thought the car, you know—poof!”

  “My mother-in-law’s best friend lent us one, so we can take you anywhere that strikes your fancy. And Eleni will come to open the café, so we don’t have to worry for the time.”

  “Anywhere?”

  “Consider me a chauffeur.”

  “Where was Hari’s body found?”

  “Thirty kilometers south of here,” Nikos said.

  Joey set down his empty cup. “Let’s take a look.”

  We reached Lepidopteros within the hour. The village itself was a hiccup off the road. We drove past a few clustered houses and followed a sign to the sea.

  The beach was hardly inviting. A rocky inlet was a temporary breather where the rugged, mountainous terrain had taken pause and allowed a dot of space to stake a claim. A simple, wooden dock had been constructed over the rocks. Today the sea was low enough that we could see multiple watermarks on the wooden posts. Even a rowboat would be hard-pressed to dock without scraping bottom.

  Joey got out of the car and strode to the dock. “Hari washed up around here?”

  Nikos pointed to the sea. “That’s what the newspaper said, but Gregos’ specialty seems to be misinformation.”

  “Makes for better copy.” Joey inched onto the dock with tentative steps. “Think this thing is safe?”

  “Don’t worry,” Nikos laughed. “All the docks around here are the same, but somehow they hold up.”

  Cautiously my brother covered the length of the dock and stopped before its edge. We followed behind.

  “It’s odd that the body would have floated towards the beach rather than out to sea,” Joey said.

  “It would depend on the strength of the current and the wind,” I said.

  “Or what the murderer wanted it to look like.”

  “What about the suicide note?” I asked.

  “Easy enough to fake,” Joey said. “I know. Let’s break into the police office, steal the note, and then collect handwriting samples from everyone on the island.”

  Nikos and I stared.

  “I’m kidding!” Joey said. Then he pointed at me. “That’s something you would think up.”

  “It’s been a strange week,” I said. “At the moment, no suggestion is too weird.”

  We sat on the dock, dangling our feet over the edge. Below us the water was so calm and transparent that a dead body was unimaginable.

  “You met Hari the same day he died, right?”

  I nodded.

  “He didn’t seem nervous about anything?”

  “He seemed fine for having spent all night on a ferry.”

  Joey stared into the water. “Whatever happened here was a surprise, not a suicide.”

  “What makes you say that?” I asked.

  “I can’t tell you a reason. I have a feeling about it.”

  I had the same feeling. I hadn’t wanted to give into it.

  Nikos stretched to put his toes into the water. “My wife thinks that Hari came down to propose, but Letta’s family rejected him.”

  “He’d already posted her picture on his website,” Joey reminded us.

  “He was confident she would accept,” I said.

  Joey took off his sunglasses and wiped them on the bottom of his shirt. “This guy wouldn’t have committed suicide over a woman. He was enthusiastic about everything he did. You can see it from the university website. Did you look at any of the others? Dry and boring. Schedules and rules and nothing else. Your Hari was different. Even if the woman had turned him down, he wouldn’t have taken ‘no’ as the final answer.”

  “Why would he have gotten himself hooked up with someone like Panos?” I asked.

  “You think you saw Panos’ men carrying a dead body, but you can’t prove that any more than you can prove that Hari had any connection to him.”

  As had happened many times in the past, I was sorry my brother had such an accurate memory.

  “Hari told me he was here on business,” I reminded him. “He didn’t mention any engagement ring.”

  “He was mixing business with pleasure.”

  “Unless the engagement was sort of like business.”

  Joey sighed. “So basically we have no idea. Shall we look around on the beach?”

  “What for?” I asked.

  “For anything the police missed.”

  Nikos nodded. “We might as well.”

  We carefully made our way along the rocky beach, but the only things out of place were two rusty cans of Amirosian Sunset. Joey was hot enough to jump in the water, but Nikos and I had already taken long swims in the morning. And even though it was a stupid comparison, somehow I couldn’t be in the same water as Hari.

  ***

  Joey made a hit at the taverna. For the first moments, people stared at him in amazement. Then they recovered their composure and wanted to know more about him. Spiros kept looking between the two of us and shaking his head in disbelief. The musicians were merely curious. Angelos magically produced an extra guitar, so Joey joined in on the last set. Kostas didn’t hesitate to bribe him into accompanying me on some Spanish duets. As is often the case with brothers, our timbres match so closely that we produced rich harmonies without warming up. The town crowd appreciated the result, applauding enthusiastically and calling for more songs.

  After we finished playing, Spiros and his wife Anna invited the staff, plus Joey, to stick around for a midnight feast. The employees joked incessantly about our similarities. We retaliated with stories of our escapades in middle school, where we changed places from time to time to see if our teachers could tell the difference; at family reunions, where we would torture elderly relatives by constantly lying about who we were; and in San Francisco, where Joey’s slimy brother-in-law pretended to tell us apart but never could.

  Rachel studied our facial features so that she could be sure to tell us apart and asked Joey for stories about my female friends. Joey complied by telling her about the most eccentric ones he could remember: one who believed in ghosts, another who ate only organic foods, and a third who, as it turned out, preferred other women to men.

  For once I didn’t mind that he exaggerated at my expense.

  The conversation didn’t turn back to local matters until we began eating. Joey pleased the staff by relishing every morsel of roasted meat and each bite of taramosalata, which was a complicated way to say “fish eggs.” He kept explaining that the only Greek food he’d had up to this point consisted of fast-food gyros, which he now realized were a poor substitute. Then he ate a portion of saganaki, which was a fried cheese, all by himself. By the time he asked Anna about her recipe for the yogurt-cucumber mix called tzatziki, he’d thoroughly won everyone over.

  We were so relaxed and cheerful that the festivities might have gone on endlessly, but then Spiros forked a piece of saganaki and waved it through the air. “You can’t guess what Mrs. Kofiniotis is telling Anna.”

  Before any of us could inquire, Spiros’ wife blurted out: “The police chief’s daughter, she tries killing herself!”

  My fork made a ping when it hit the floor. I made a production of picking it back up to gain a few seconds of think time.

  “That’s awful news,” Rachel said slowly. “What happened?”

  “Is all silence,” said Anna, putting her finger to her lip. “But Mrs. Kofiniotis sees the girl in hospital.”

  “Soumba said his daughter was studying in Athens,” I said.

  “Is summer. Should be back on island,” Anna continued.

  Rachel and I locked eyes. I wondered if I’d somehow wrapped myself in an Escher print and was now doomed to wander in never-ending circles around the same multi-dimensional courtyard.

  “When did this accident happen?” Rachel asked.

  Anna counted on her fingers. “Ena, dúo, tría
. Maybe three days before.”

  Kostas was about to speak, but I managed to silence him with my eyes. “That’s strange,” I said. “Soumba never mentioned it.”

  “Tzt, tzt,” said Spiros. “If I have such a problem, I don’t say too.”

  “What did she do to herself?” asked Rachel.

  “Is stupid,” said Spiros between huge bites of bread. “You can’t believe. She goes to Petronaki to throw herself from the top. Not high enough.”

  “Petronaki? But didn’t you tell me that—” Joey began.

  Rachel was faster than I. “Right, Joey. You and Andy drove right by there this afternoon.” She pretended to concentrate on spearing French fries.

  “She throws herself from the hill, and her friends can’t getting her back up to the road. Call Rhodes for a helicopter,” Spiros said. “Cost a fortune. And the girl, she breaks her legs. Long time in hospital.”

  “Such a lovely girl,” said Kostas in a carefully measured tone. “What could have been wrong?”

  “Young people!” said Spiros. “They leave town, and their parents are too far. Last year this girl lives in Athens. Her mother is only with her sometimes. You lose yourself unless you have the character.”

  “Like our Yiannis,” Anna said.

  “Right. Our son is living in Athens, but not going for the girls and the drinking. Strong character!”

  “Soumba’s daughter should be strong too,” Rachel said.

  The taverna owner waved his hands. “Is not possible when all her life her father is protecting her. But anyway, is not our problem. Come on, more drinking!”

  Spiros filled our glasses with Metaxá, the most common Greek brandy.

  I needed every last drop.

  Chapter Twenty Six

  “Don’t you think Soumba knows that Rachel and I were the ones who rescued his daughter?”

  The following afternoon Joey and I were drying in the sun at our semi-private beach across from Eleni’s. Rachel was dozing beside me. At the edge of the calm water, Eleni and Nikos were building sandcastles with the boys.

  “He’s got to know,” Joey said. “How often is your daughter going to be rescued by a couple of foreigners?”

  “Why hasn’t he said anything? Do you think he’s angry at us?”

  “Try mortified. His only daughter wants to end her life. He’s got to see that as a reflection on himself. I would, anyway.”

  My brother had two daughters. The experience of fatherhood gave Joey a perspective I could appreciate but not internalize.

  “When Soumba said that his wife was staying with his daughter for a few days, he never mentioned that they were staying in the hospital,” I said.

  “If you were in his shoes, you’d be in denial too.”

  “I suppose you could argue that suicide is a Greek tradition.”

  “Three thousand years ago. Some people still admire it. Even if you do, how can you find honor in a half-assed attempt?”

  On the road behind us, a couple of teens sped by on Vespas, shattering the quiet. For a split second I wanted to join them. I didn’t even care where they were going.

  “It’s weird that Soumba wouldn’t talk about it. He’s not the quiet type. He puts his cards on the table,” I said.

  Joey sighed. “Maybe his wife asked him not to say anything.”

  “I can’t imagine Soumba following instructions from anybody, let alone his wife. He’s too used to making all the decisions around here. I don’t mean that in a negative way. He sees what needs to be done and does it. But on Amiros gossip runs as fast as a California forest fire, and as you saw last night, it gets completely twisted along the way. How long could they have expected to keep things secret?”

  “Until she gets better? He managed to keep it out of the newspaper.”

  “That’s because his cousin runs it. But he’s making the situation worse by covering it up.”

  Joey made little rows among the pebbles. “You’re not a father. I’m telling you, if my girls tried anything like that, I would crawl in a hole and never come back out.”

  “Your daughters would never have a reason to consider suicide.”

  “It’s easy to think that while they’re still young. Right now they only have a crisis when their favorite bracelets go missing or they get scolded by their teachers. What will happen when they start to have boyfriends? I would be kidding myself if I thought nothing bad could ever happen.”

  “You’re fatalistic today.”

  Joey focused on the sea. A motorboat chugged along the horizon carrying tourists on the around-the-island excursion.

  “Joey, what’s the matter?”

  He picked up a pebble and threw it. “Nothing.”

  “Is something wrong between you and Christina?”

  “My wife and I are fine.” He faced me straight on. “It’s you I’m worried about. You could have been killed twice last week. Don’t you think that might be cause for alarm?”

  He danced on hot rocks all the way down to the water.

  Over the years I’d worried my brother many times. As an architect, Joey made three times what I did. He couldn’t understand why I didn’t want to follow his lead. He didn’t realize that the situations evened themselves out. He made more money, but he paid more taxes. He also had a wife and two children, so he had a lot more necessary expenses. He assumed that one day I would too.

  So far the day hadn’t come. I particularly didn’t want anyone messing with my night owl schedule or hinting that I should be working nine to five. Quitting music was non-negotiable. Although I could do other kinds of work, I belonged on stage. I never felt so fulfilled as when I sang obscure request songs no one else in the group could remember and no one else in town could play. Performing well on a daily basis was my ultimate challenge. It entailed remembering all the mariachi songs I’d ever learned. It involved keeping my fingers limber for the hardest solo passages. It meant learning new hit songs, mostly from current telenovelas, Mexican soap operas. It meant being so tight with my fellow musicians that I breathed with them.

  This was why Rachel excited me. I didn’t have to explain these things to her. She knew them intuitively. She was living the same challenges, the same problems. For the first time ever, I’d met a woman with whom I was in synch.

  No wonder I wasn’t sure how to act. She was a woman I could actually have a relationship with. I could want to get serious. The idea was astounding.

  By the time I caught up to my brother, he was floating on his back.

  “Joey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you.”

  He straightened up, splashing his chest. “I know that.”

  “I’m at a loss down here. I can’t figure out what’s going on. At least where Louloudi was concerned I knew where the dangers lay.”

  Joey nodded in the direction of the shore. “How are things with Rachel?”

  “With all the shit that’s been going on, who can concentrate?”

  He splashed me. “Answer.”

  “We’ve had fun.”

  Joey submerged before he resurfaced and wiped water from his eyes. “Is that all you want?”

  “In the last week I’ve been chased and attacked. I haven’t had much time to think about what I want.”

  Joey jumped, put all his weight on my shoulders, and sank me under the water. We came up sputtering.

  “Didn’t those incidents make you think about what you’d like to accomplish in life and all that?”

  I shrugged. “I’ve been overwhelmed.”

  “You’ll need a job. What’s your next plan?”

  “I was hoping to have some time to think about it while I was out here. Instead I’ve been too busy surviving.”

  “What’s to think about? Invite yourself to Arizona. Rachel can probably get you a job.”

  “Why would she?”

  Joey shook his head. “You really are clueless.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She invited you to Greece if I remember ri
ght.”

  “That doesn’t mean she would want me around permanently.”

  “Yeah. It’s pretty much a sign she hates you.”

  Joey started floating again, and I had to splash him to get his attention. “I need to straighten out my life before I can contemplate a relationship.”

  “Don’t count on your life ever being straight. Think about whether or not you want to spend your life alone.”

  “Stefani didn’t make my life better. Nor did Louloudi.”

  “The night I met Rachel at Noche Azul, I almost wished I weren’t married. That had never happened to me before. Then again, I’d never met an attractive woman who knew more about mariachi music than I did.”

  “She’s special. I admit that.”

  Joey started a lazy backstroke as he headed towards deeper water. “I’m glad you can admit something.”

  ***

  The café was alive, buzzing with dozens of conversations in Greek, English, German, and Swedish. The tables were all claimed by customers who sat comfortably as they cooled down after their tanning sessions at the beach. Eleni and Rachel were in the back making sundaes while Nikos circulated, visiting with his patrons.

  Joey and I had commandeered the regular staff table near the back. My brother stretched his legs over a vacant chair. With a sweep of his hand, he indicated the swarms of customers. “This is the life. No wonder Amiros is crowded in the summer. After a couple of days in a place like this, you get yourself back.”

  I hardly agreed.

  “I can’t believe I’ve been locked up in Squid Bay so long,” he continued. “I should take vacation more often. Get out and see how the other half lives.”

  “Shit.”

  “What?”

  “Mrs. Sfirakis. I keep forgetting to send her a postcard. It’s the least I can do.”

  Joey’s wry smile spread across his face. “Too busy drinking frappés? Anyway, I’m sure she doesn’t mind picking up your mail.”

  “I promised I’d send a card. As much as I’ve bent her ear this summer, she deserves a medal.”

  Joey pointed vaguely towards the row of trinket shops, most of which sold the same postcards showing the main drag, which we were on, or a strip of umbrellas at the closest beach. “So go buy a postcard. What’s stopping you?”