‘And the people?’
‘Everyone is so lovely here. Amazing characters. Don’t let this murder fool you. It’s a safe place…’
‘Bull,’ Oliver’s gravelly voice came from behind her. ‘If you listen to my wife, you would believe everybody was a saint.’
‘And, you sir, don’t believe so? About the islanders, I mean.’
‘There are some good folk, of course,’ he replied, coming closer and standing next to his wife. Ioli’s eyes travelled along his bare chest and arms, admiring his multiple tattoos. ‘But, they have this village mentality. They all have a great idea about themselves and talk about others all day. The stories, you hear! If you believe them all true, there is something sinister about every single one of them.’
‘Even Adonis?’
‘The special needs’ kid who broke people’s windows by throwing rocks at whomever made fun of him?’ Oliver replied, sarcasm coloring his words.
‘Oh, Oliver. Stop being so grumpy,’ his wife told him off.
‘And, Natalie?’ Ioli asked, glad to have found someone with pure honesty.
‘Poor girl,’ Bertha said loudly as her husband opened his mouth. ‘Let’s not bad-mouth the dead.’
Neither her words nor her hand around Oliver’s wrist could contain her husband’s words.
‘She had it coming, if you ask me. Would sleep with the whole island if she could…’
‘Oliver!’
‘What? You’re forgetting the night we came home and caught her in our pool having sex.’
‘With whom?’ Ioli interrupted their locked together eyes.
‘Some tourist. Definitely not from around here,’ Oliver answered. ‘Anyway, you caught the guy. Why are you going around house to house?’
‘They are looking for Mr. Sakis, the shoe guy?’ his wife informed him.
Oliver raised his thick, grey eyebrows. ‘Wow, two crimes in a day. What is this island coming to?’ he said and chuckled. ‘Good luck, miss Lieutenant,’ he said and began walking back to his pool.
‘Are you sure, dear, that he was last seen here?’ Bertha asked, her fingers interlocked, her eyes sorry for the pregnant lady in despair.
‘Our computer says his phone is around here.’
‘Check the caldera,’ Oliver said, diving into the serene waters of his swimming pool.
‘Oliver,’ his wife told him off once more.
‘What?’ he replied, coming to the surface. ‘That drunk fell over his own feet.’
Ioli’s eyes widened. She approached the half-meter wall that run along the steep drop. She placed her hands on the wall and keeping her baby in mind, leaned over, her eyes scanning the rocky ground below.
There, among cans of coke and dried up shrubs lay a man’s body.
‘Guys,’ she called over to her fellow police officers. Both ran to her side. Both stood staring in shock down at the human figure with the spread out arms and legs below.
‘Is it Mr .Sakis?’ Alexandro asked, turning his head to Valentina.
‘Hard to tell from this high up.’
‘Open and shut case, for fuck’s sake!’ Ioli said and asked how to get down there.
Chapter 10
On Board
Mrs. Anne advised the children to remain calm and left them in the care of her fellow teacher, Mr. Zack, short for Zachariah. A large, sixty-year-old with a bored expression and a passion for silence; he had once said that people should have a limited word limit throughout the day. One wondered how he taught Science and Chemistry at the prestigious International School of Athens. Mrs. Anne’s advice calmed no one, not even herself. Panting and with an inner ‘nerve earthquake’, she followed Nick, the security guy and Katerina, the ship’s doctor, up to the bridge.
Nick’s expression changed midway; his still, tough expression gave way to a worried look. His strong jaw moved around as his teeth rubbed against each other. Katerina’s hand slowly drifted into his huge hands and she caressed his fingers. He turned and tilted his head downwards to lock into his ‘two feet shorter than him’ girlfriend.
‘I’m okay.’
‘I know. I just want you to know that I am here,’ Katerina said, giving her best shot at a compassionate smile. Katerina has seen her fair share of blood. A Doctor Without Borders and a daredevil by nature, she spent most of her after-uni years in poverty-ridden countries and war zones. Dead children during the Syrian conflict is where her soul drew the line. Too young, too many. Katerina found herself not being able to even work in an E.R.. Private practice was out of the question. The fourth child from a poor family and with a huge college debt, the last thing Katerina needed was more loans. The job description for a doctor on board a ship for the ‘well-off’ –as she referred to the passengers of the reputable liner-sounded heavenly made. Her third year upon board and she had helped senior couples with their medications, tied a young boy’s leg and fought tricky fevers; and those were the hard cases. Mostly, she did nothing more than a nurse in her first year of training.
Back outside of the sealed-off cabin, I read the eyes of the group of teens before me .
‘Who was her roommate?’ I asked.
‘That would be me, sir,’ an athletic girl in a short, black skirt and a red bikini top, replied in a southern American accent.
‘And you are?’
‘Nicole. Nicole Winthrop,’ she answered, waiting for the set of detective questions to commence. TV shows had made everyone an expert, yet she did not expect the next question.
‘Where was the vase placed?’
Nicole’s eyes flicked faster than usual. ‘Err, I think it was on the bedside table.’
‘You think?’ I asked, my eyes steady on her.
‘No, no. I’m sure.’
I turned and put my hand through the X-shaped tape that Nick Pavlou had placed across the door. I pushed the door open and ducked below the ‘slightly moving from the air-conditioning’ tape. I looked down at the smashed vase and bit my bottom lip, lost in thought. Carefully, I approached the jewelry box. I flicked it, turning it around, making sure I did not touch it. A piece of ribbed paper lay under it. I took out my cell and with my sausage fingers, took a while to zoom-in and take a decent picture of the writing. With one last look around the room, I exited into the hall and closed the door behind me. The science teacher had already ordered the group of teens to follow him to the cafeteria on the front deck.
‘Ice-cream and fresh, sea air for all,’ he said and added a strong ‘come on’ at the reluctant to move, dumb minors.
I returned to my cabin to find Tracy sitting on one of the two chairs of our petite balcony. ‘You disappeared quickly.’
‘I knew your investigating inner self would surface. Scan the crime scene and questioned the witnesses, have we?’ she asked, taking a long sip from her frozen pina-colada. Her larger-than-life stray hat with the pink ribbon traveling around it, made it hard to read her face. But, I knew my wife’s tone well. She was in high spirits. It was needless to excuse myself from switching from romantic Costa to homicide division Costa, as Tracy understood that a good mystery would work better wonders on me than all the sea air, mighty sun and relaxing would ever do.
‘Where’s my glasses?’ I asked the second most common question of our marriage. The first being ‘what’s for dinner?’. Weddings are basically two people asking each other what to eat until one of the two dies.
‘Give me the phone,’ she said, stretching out her hand. ‘I can’t be bothered to explain to you in detail where your glasses are, only for you to lose your temper and move everything around in our luggage and still not find them. Now, there’s a mystery for you. How can you solve murder cases based on the slightest clue or small piece of seemingly unimportant evidence yet can’t find something in my bag or drawer.’
‘Finished?’
‘Just pass me the phone.’
Tracy zoomed into the photo ably and began to read.
‘I question their judgmental glares as I wonder, what have I
done wrong? Then, there’s an ellipsis and it continues with my heart, my head, my body, numb.’
‘It looks like a girl’s neat handwriting. Could be the victims. Could be hers…’ I began uttering my thoughts. ‘Babe, google it, please. Could be a known poem or something. For her to use an ellipsis, could be an entire poem…’
‘Izzy Dix. It’s a poem about bullying,’ my internet-friendly wife interrupted me.
I placed my hands on the blue railing and gazed out into the endless shades of blue. ‘Did she leave it there on purpose? Was it just something she left in her jewelry box? I think I have to talk to her teacher,’ I finally spoke.
‘Her boyfriend would know more,’ Tracy said and picked up her Lynda Le Plante book. Tracy had fallen in love with the British crime books featuring Anna Travis. I don’t think she felt as warmly towards my idea of investigating the pool of blood next door.
Chapter 11
The sun opposite her had begun its unrushed, leisurely dive into the glassy ocean. Multiple shades of fiery red and dark orange swam upon the short-lived waves. Ioli sat on the protecting-from-the-cliff wall and stared down at the body.
Neither option of approaching the dead man seemed sensible for a pregnant lady. Drive to the nearest point possible and hike along the steep rocks or take a boat to the shore opposite the body and walk through dried-up fields. Alexandro and Valentina had opted for the second option.
Ioli had just called her husband and reluctantly informed him that she would be spending the night on the island. She believed she did a good job persuading him not to worry.
‘Come on, baby. You could even bring your girlfriend around,’ she joked, interrupting his flow of angry words.
‘Don’t. Don’t color this funny. You are…’
‘OK, OK. No girlfriend. How about pizza, beer and finally watching the last two episodes of Game of Thrones you never have time to see?’
‘That’s more like it,’ he had replied, calmer than before.
Ioli rubbed her belly as she straightened her posture; her legs hanging from the wall, brought much needed relief to her feet. Her mind pictured Mark’s night in. Being married -and happily married, too-still had not sunk in. She was never the one for relationships. Having dedicated most of her adult life to her job, Mark was her life’s fourth relationship, counting her innocent high school crush.
‘Excuse me, love. Would you fancy a cup of tea?’ Bertha’s soothing voice cut her life’s movie, playing in the amphitheatre of her mind.
Ioli turned her head to reply, her loose black hair suffering from the humidity and the heat. ‘I think I’d have a heartburn if I drunk anything hot in this weather.’
Bertha laughed and her whole body danced along with the hearty laughter.
‘Typical Greek. I’ll get you some icy rose water, then.’
‘That’s more like it. Thank you,’ Ioli replied, as the merry woman bobbled into her well-maintained bungalow.
‘I’ll have a cuppa, dear,’ her husband yelled from the refreshing, chlorinated waters in which he swam; a curious grin on his face as he watched the fishing boat carrying the two young officers approach the uninhabited, unfriendly shore below.
‘Be careful,’ the boat’s captain advised as he lowered his wooden, hand-made bridge to the dark sands. Only a quarter of the sun remained above sea level.
‘Here, take my hand,’ Alexandro said, extending his right arm.
The corners of Valentina’s red lips travelled slightly upwards as she placed her hand into his. Soon, both had their shoes upon the muddy land. Both waved to Ioli, settled like an eagle, watching from above.
Ioli waved back and once again got lost in thought.
‘Adonis breaking a window doesn’t not necessarily mean he has a mean streak. It doesn’t mean he hasn’t one either. Did she push him too far? Fingerprints from the scene haven’t come in yet, but his fingerprints were all over his own knife. Then again, I don’t trust her brother. I still have to talk to Andreas, the rejected boyfriend and find out who her new, rich boyfriend is…’
Just then, she tried to pull out of memory her hand shake with the mayor. Flashbacks from hours ago came to life in her mind. She kept on playing the handshake in her mind. It glowed in her eyes. His golden watch.
She lowered herself from the wall, her hands steady on the dusty ledge. She rushed over to the concrete, miniature roundabout that most cars chose to ignore and drove over, and stood in the center. Opposite her was the end of the garden belonging to the island’s biggest villa. A circular, well-maintained, short lawn, surrounded by flower beds filled with defiant lilies and statues of Greek gods, ran all the way like an expensive carpet up to the row of palm trees that towered over the stone wall. A wall that on its outer side housed a huge poster of its owner. A poster declaring the candidacy of Orestis Stamos, mayor of Folegandros. A wrinkle-less man with shiny white teeth –both thanks to photoshop, stood proudly in front of Ioli. Her eyes were not focused on his face, though, but on the wrist of his right arm.
‘A golden Rolex.’
The air-piercing, loud horn made her jump back as the white car zoomed by her.
‘Watch it, lady,’ the shirtless, hairy driver shouted over the golden hits playing out from his open window.
Ioli raised her hand in signal of apologizing, realizing she was walking in the middle of the newly made, asphalt road. The street lights had yet to be turned on and the sunlight was weak.
‘Guess this is the luck my grandma always says I have, due to her blessings,’ she muttered to herself.
‘Dear? Your drink?’ Bertha called over as Valentina and Alexandro reached the crime scene below.
Valentina paused meters away from the lifeless, bloody body.
Alexandro watched in disgust as two cats sat upon the mangled man, one drinking blood from the hanging left leg, the other biting into his exposed brains.
‘Shoo, get! Off you go,’ he yelled and clapped his hands, stomping towards the body with the limbs spread out in awkward angles.
‘What a drop,’ he said and whistled in amazement as he stared upwards, his eyes following the great expanse to the top. ‘Hmm, where’s Ioli?’ he wondered.
He knelt down to the pallid face that had become one with the once-silvery rock. ‘Is it Mr. Sakis?’ he asked, only then noticing that Valentina had not moved from the spot in which she had frozen. ‘What’s wrong? The cats are gone. Boy, what a sight…’
‘It… It’s not the cats. I… I have never seen a dead body before,’ she breathlessly replied, her hands slightly shaking, her eyes fixed upon the milky eyes staring blankly. ‘It’s him, by the way,’ she managed to add, before beginning to gag. She turned her back to Alexandro and lowered her head, talking to herself to control it. Nothing disgusted her more than vomit and she was not ready to lose her club sandwich lunch.
‘I’m sorry, I did not think…’
‘Why would you? You are used to professionals, not silly asses like me that have no job being on a homicide case…’ More gagging interrupted her sentence.
‘Don’t say that,’ Alexandro replied, rushing to her side, placing his hand upon her quivering shoulder. ‘I’m the idiot. I never stopped to think this was your first body. I swear no one is comfortable around their first murder case. You are doing so much better than I was. I stepped all over the evidence, I vomited my lunch and as the medical examiner lifted up the body and blood poured out, I fainted! I swear to God, in front of everyone, my eyes went blank and I…’
Valentina turned towards him and interrupted his fast production of sympathy speech by placing a gentle kiss on his moving lips. As the last ray of sun ran between them and darkness surrounded them, their lips interlocked. Alexandro was never one to miss an opportunity, dead body or not. He placed his right hand through her bleached blond hair and kissed her passionately. Valentina pushed him away and took a clumsy step back.
‘And I continue being a fool. God, I am so unprofessional. I do apologize, you were just
trying to cheer me up and I kissed you, and you probably have a girlfriend or two back home…’
‘You’re no fool in my eyes,’ Alexandro replied, beaming proudly about how smooth he thought he was.
Valentina took her flashlight into her hands and shone light over the area. ‘Let’s get to the body before we can’t even see our noses out here.’
‘You’re right,’ Alexandro agreed, lighting up his flashlight and approaching the victim, careful not to step on pieces of brain and bone particles. ‘Man, what a drop,’ he said and whistled. ‘I’ll collect whatever I can,’ he said, taking out of his backpack a roll of plastic, evidence bags. ‘Then, I’ll bag the body. I think you should go get the captain to help us carry him.’
Above, Ioli had placed her cold beverage upon the sand-covered wall. Her dry lips had welcomed the icy rose water and it even helped with the dizziness she was feeling. She watched as the two dots below turned on their lights and approached the bloody omelette that was once Mr. Sakis. She finished off her beverage slowly, her eyes following the cadaver as it was bagged and carried to the boat.
She took the empty glass back to Mrs. Bertha and thanked her.
‘Was it the shoe maker, then?’ Oliver asked, standing behind his wife, drying himself with a rather small for his size, Scooby-Doo towel.
‘Good night, Mr. Oliver,’ Ioli nodded and began to walk towards the center of town.
‘Ooh, mysterious,’ he mocked, and lifted his fingers into the air, mimicking spooky wind with an expression of comical shock drawn upon his aging face.
‘Grow up, Oliver,’ Bertha retorted and pushed him towards the house. ‘Go, get. Stop embarrassing me.’
Ioli did not hear Bertha’s ongoing rumbling as she took her phone with the Westeros cover out her pocket and called Alexandro.
‘Don’t bother coming to pick me up. I’ll walk back to the station…’
‘You sure, boss? I…’
‘I’m pregnant, not disabled and please don’t interrupt me,’ Ioli replied with a steady, strong voice. ‘By the time the boat docks and you get the body to the car and then go to the station, I’ll be there,’ she added and lowered the phone to end the call.
Murder On Display: A riveting, stand-alone murder / mystery that keeps you guessing until the shocking end (Greek Island Mysteries Book 4) Page 7
