Sons of Sparta: A Chief Inspector Andreas Kaldis Mystery (22 page)

“Since when has that excuse ever worked on a Greek woman serving you food?”

Tassos smiled. “It’s never worked for me.” He picked up a fork, latched onto a stuffed grape leaf, and took a bite. “Hmmm, this could be the best
dolmadakia
I’ve ever tasted.”

“Flatterer,” she said smiling. “So, have another.”

“I will.”

“Cousin, we’re here to talk to you about something very serious.”

“I’m not surprised. This house isn’t exactly the place I’d expect you to bring your friends for a good time in the Mani.”

“Come, sit down. Please.” Andreas pointed to a place on the couch across from him and next to Kouros. He waited until she’d sat. “It’s about your father’s murder.”

“Have you caught that bastard Niko?”

Andreas nodded. “Yes. We found him with your brother’s help.”

“Good. May he rot in hell.”

“He’s told us quite a story.” Tassos shifted in his chair. “He said that you’re the one who arranged for Babis to kill your father.”

“
That lying bastard
.”

“Calliope,” said Kouros quietly. “He said you gave him a photograph of Uncle and Stella.”

She dropped her head and clasped her hands together. “I guess I could deny that and there would be no way of proving that I did.” She paused for a moment and looked up. “But I did give it to him.”

Kouros pressed the fingers of his right hand tightly against his forehead. “How could you have done this to your father? To your family?”

Calliope looked at Kouros. “I didn’t do it to hurt Father. I did it to help him. To save him. It was my duty.”

Andreas moved forward in his seat and braced himself to react should she make any sudden move.

Tassos scanned the room to make sure they were alone.

“What are saying?” asked Kouros. “That you arranged for your father to be murdered to save him? Are you crazy?”

She looked down at her hands. “I am the Maniot woman of this family. Not my aunt or sister who live in Athens. I am responsible for deciding who risks death to save our family. If my plan had been followed, no one would have died. Certainly not father. Babis’ target was the Ukrainian.”

“The Ukrainian in the land deal with your father?” said Andreas.

She nodded. “He would destroy our family’s legacy. We’ve lived on this land for centuries. He wanted to destroy it to run his guns. His drugs. His women. Father’s plan for assuring peace in our family came at too great a cost.”

“And you had a plan to ruin the deal?” said Andreas.

She swallowed. “Yes. Convince the Ukrainian that he and his project were not welcome in the Mani. Warn him that great harm would come to him if he persisted. But I could not carry out my plan myself. I needed help, yet I knew if I went to anyone connected to my father they would tell him of it immediately.”

“And so?” said Tassos.

“Father always said you could deal with your worst enemies as long as they saw profit in it. So I thought, who would never speak to my father but would want to stop the Ukrainian as much as I? The obvious answer was Niko, the Ukrainian’s competitor in the arms business.”

“How did you know these things?” said Tassos.

“I run this house. What
don’t
I know?”

“How did you connect with Niko?” said Kouros.

“A friend’s cousin is married to Niko. I arranged for the friend to set up a meeting with him in Kalamata. I went there and told him I had valuable information helpful to his business. He asked what I wanted in return and I said ‘elimination of our mutual problem.’ I told him my plan. He said he’d think about it and get back to me.”

Kouros drew in and let out a breath.

“Two days later he called and we met again. He said he liked my plan, but there was a problem. If he were seen to have played a hand in it he’d be at war with both the Ukrainian and my father. That’s when he proposed Babis. He said Babis’ relationship with my father gave him the best chance of getting close enough to the Ukrainian to pass along the threat, and with the bad blood between Babis and Niko’s family no one would think Babis was tied to Niko should Babis ever be discovered as behind the threats.”

“The threats were intended for the Ukrainian?” asked Kouros.

“That was my plan.” She bowed her head. “But Niko said there was no way he could think of to get Babis to betray my father. Otherwise he and his family would have tried it long ago.”

She lifted her head and rubbed at her eyes with the palms of her hands. “I should have realized what that meant, but didn’t. I was obsessed with getting rid of the Ukrainian. And when a few days later Carlos called to say he’d seen my father with Stella, I took it as a sign from above that Babis had been chosen to rid my family of the Ukrainian.” She crossed herself three times.

“That’s when I hit upon the idea of using a photograph of my father and Stella to enrage Babis. Inspire him to take revenge on my father by helping to destroy my father’s plans with the Ukrainian. The obvious twist never occurred to me. All Niko had to do was convince Babis to kill my father instead of frightening the Ukrainian and he’d have it all—the deal dead and revenge on my father. He must have promised Babis forgiveness from his family if Babis made my father’s death look like an accident or, at worst, that someone else was responsible. But I never imagined he would kill my father.
Never
.”

“What about killing the Ukrainian? Did you ever imagine that?” said Tassos.

She began to sob. “When Father died I was certain he’d been killed by the Ukrainian. That he’d somehow learned of the plot against him, thought my father was behind it, and killed him for it. I thought it was all my fault.”

Her sobs turned to tears and she cried for several minutes.

No one made a move to comfort her.

She looked up. “It
was
my fault. I need to die.”

Tassos waited until her eyes caught his. “No, my dear, what you need is serious psychiatric help.”

***

That night they drove Calliope to Sparta. They didn’t want to arrest her, nor did they want her wandering free, if only to protect her from herself. They compromised on a charge that didn’t implicate Calliope in her father’s murder, but kept her under a twenty-four-hour suicide watch while awaiting psychiatric evaluation.

Kouros called Mangas to tell him his sister was on the verge of a nervous breakdown, and for her own good he’d taken her to Sparta. He made no mention of anything else. That could wait for another time. And he preferred not to be the teller of that tale.

As expected, Niko was out of jail the next day and back in Gytheio where he promised to remain until “vindicated.” When the prosecutor learned from Andreas that Calliope had confessed to her role in the matter, and from Kouros of Niko’s claimed statement of the facts, he told both cops there was a better case for convicting Calliope than Niko. Even more so after Kouros’ wrestling buddy, the bear, denied ever telling Kouros of a link between Niko and the uncle’s murder. He denied being part of anything more that an effort to convince Niko’s old acquaintance, Babis, not to take his own life but rather turn himself in for the uncle’s murder.

Andreas and Kouros knew where this was headed. With the actual killer dead, the victim a notorious bad guy, and prosecutorial resources strapped to the limit by across-the-board financial cuts, there was very little chance that Niko would ever see the inside of a prison cell. At least not this time.

Chapter Twenty-three

Andreas looked up to see who was coming through his office door. “You look pissed. What’s wrong?”

“I just got word the prosecutor isn’t taking my uncle’s case to trial.”

Andreas shook his head. “I hate this part of the job. We bust our asses catching scum everyone knows is guilty and some spineless prosecutor lets him walk because he doesn’t have the balls to risk hurting his conviction rate. We knew this was a tough case, but I thought the prosecutor would at least try to put him away.” Andreas pointed a finger at Kouros. “I want you to run a full financial background check on that prosecutor. If we find so much as a euro unaccounted for in his account I’m going to hang his crooked ass out to dry.”

“No one’s angrier than I am, but it isn’t all the prosecutor’s fault.” Kouros dropped onto the couch.

“What are you saying?”

“My cousins are very worried about Calliope. Niko was out of jail within hours after his arrest, but she’s been penned up in a psychiatric ward for nearly a month and a half. Mangas told me her doctors believe that if she testified it could send her over the edge forever.”

Andreas shook his head. “And Niko’s lawyers would make sure she testified.”

“In vivid, excruciating detail. That’s why Mangas told the prosecutor today that his sister wouldn’t testify. And her psychiatrist backed him up on that.”

Andreas blew out a rush of air from between his lips. “At least Babis is dead. That’s some justice. Which reminds me, maybe someone should let Stella know that Niko and his two numb-nuts buddies are free? Just in case they might still consider her a loose end.”

“I already told her. Her residency permit came through last week and she’s moving north to Thessaloniki.”

“What’s the matter, she didn’t like Athens?”

“No, she found a nice guy and he got a job up there, so she’s going with him.”

Andreas studied Kouros’ face. “How do you feel about that?”

He shrugged. “Fine, we’re just friends.”

“I see. So, what are you doing for Christmas?”

“Not sure yet.”

“Well, it’s the day after tomorrow, and you’re invited to our house if nothing better turns up.”

“Thanks. I was sort of thinking of going down to the Mani to spend it with my cousins.”

“Not a bad idea.”

“But I’m not sure about that anymore.”

“Why’s that?”

“Mangas told me Father Carlos has visited Calliope every day she’s been in the hospital and just obtained permission from her doctors to bring her home for three days over Christmas.”

“That’s terrific news.”

“Yes, but I don’t think I should be there for her homecoming. They don’t need me as a walking reminder of all she’s done and been through.”

“Your family can’t blame you for what she did.”

“I hope not. But, still, I don’t have be in her face the very first day she’s out. In time, I want to talk to her. Perhaps give her something her father didn’t think she’d appreciate.” Kouros turned his head and stared out the window behind the couch. “I think he was wrong about that. It’s a chest that once belonged to our Great-aunt Calliope.”

“Do I take all that as a ‘yes’ for dinner on Christmas? Tassos and Maggie will be there.”

“Sure. Thanks. Is the new kid you brought into the unit coming?”

“Petro? He’s on Crete, making Orestes’ life miserable. I told him to be his shadow until he found something to nail Orestes with big-time. Our new government says they want to fight corruption wherever it is, no matter who’s involved. So I thought, wouldn’t it be nice to start at the top for once?”

“May justice prevail in the end.”

“While you’re at it, don’t forget true love,” said Andreas.

“Yeah. Too bad this is real life, not fiction.”

***

At four in the morning on Christmas Day, church bells rang out across Greece. Services followed, in some communities right then, but in most not before six. The ensuing three-hour service ended a forty-day fast forbidding fish, meat, dairy, and on Wednesdays and Fridays, olive oil. Beneath the altar, waiting to be blessed, lay bread, sweet red wine, oven-prepared lamb and roasted potatoes donated to the community by those who’d lost relatives over the past year. It served as an offering for the souls of the recently departed and comprised the traditional Christmas Day feast shared with the community at tables set up outside the church expressly for the occasion.

Saint Petros Church was packed. But that was to be expected. Especially with less than thirty minutes to go in the service. Neighbors nodded to neighbors, friends introduced visiting relatives and guests to other friends, and women all in black, some in full nun’s veil, scurried around outside the church, readying the tables for the onslaught of diners.

One priest led the service and two others assisted. Lay participants and common worshippers performed their roles perfectly in rituals rehearsed since childhood, with a sort of clockwork-like precision rare to experience in Greece. As the service came to an end, worshippers hurried outside to find places at tables for their families. Some approached a table closest to the sea but were shooed away by a not-so-gentle-looking giant saying, “Sorry, taken.”

Many came to this tiny island with its solitary white church and gentle harbor backdrop to exchange vows, promising to remain as one until death did them part. Some perhaps came wondering whether similar thoughts might have passed between Helen and Paris as they began their own epic journey from this place. While others, like many here today, thought only of the festivities to follow.

A group of six walked toward the taken table. A tall man in black trousers, white shirt, and a dark zippered jacket led them there. He smiled at everyone he passed, exchanging Christmas wishes. A few said “Congratulations,” and he thanked each one.

He sat at the head of the table facing the church, his wife and two grown children to his right, his in-laws to his left.

Head-to-toe black-clad women hurried around distributing bread, wine, and platters of food to the tables. The sounds of toasts, rousing voices, and laughter filled the air. Priests moved from table to table, exchanging
Kala Kristougenna
greetings with the gathered, and men walked about, finding their friends and wishing Merry Christmas with a quick smack on the back or fast squeeze of the shoulders. Many came to greet the man at the head of the table. He smiled and toasted each one.

All the toasting had given Niko a buzz. No matter, he had much to celebrate. The prosecutor couldn’t prove a thing. Too bad Babis had screwed up and failed to get the vendetta angle to play. The old man hadn’t told anyone about Niko’s carefully scripted threats, rendering pointless the message Niko had Babis put on the back of the old man’s newspaper and the SMS Niko anonymously sent the day before the hit. The messages were supposed to emerge as part of an elaborate but feeble attempt by the Ukrainian to pass off a professional hit as a vendetta killing.

Niko remained convinced that, if the threats had gone public, Calliope so despised the Ukrainian she would have launched her hot-headed brother on a murderous vendetta against the Ukrainian—giving Niko free reign in the Peloponnese as he watched his two competitors kill each other off.

But the father’s death was labeled an accident. Worse still, his cop nephew started poking around. Something Niko hadn’t figured on. That limited Niko’s options. Babis had to go because he was the only one who could have tied Niko into the hit. Maybe the girlfriend still could too, but he’d take care of her personally next week. Niko smiled. On her first New Year’s Eve in Thessaloniki.

Of course there was also Calliope, but who’d ever believe her? The crazy bitch never for a second saw the switch coming. She remained convinced to the end the Ukrainian was the target.

Niko smiled.
Probably still does
.

The photograph she gave him had made it all possible. All he’d had to do was show it to Babis that afternoon outside the taverna. The rest was easy. He told Babis he’d be forgiven by Niko’s family if he killed the man who’d betrayed them both. In exchange, Babis only had to stick the message in the old man’s newspaper the next morning and use the poison as directed when Niko gave him the word.

Too bad the local cops found the poison. That stuff was hard to come by. Expensive, too. One of their connected Maniot buddies would probably end up with it. Maybe he could buy it from the cops first.

Yeah, and too bad for Babis the threat messages didn’t fly. But just like Calliope, the sucker never saw it coming until given the choice of a few minutes in the sea or days of pain with Urich.

Niko looked up at the church and mumbled to himself, “Thank you, Lord, for sending me two fools.”

WHACK. Niko jerked forward from a hard smack on his back. “
Kala Kristougenna
, Niko. I hear you’re moving to the Mani.”

It was another forgettable cousin of his wife offering a
macho
Mani greeting.

“Maybe. I’m thinking of opening a hotel over here. One with a golf course.”

“Good luck with it.”

Black clad ladies started gathering dirty paper plates off the tables. One, dressed in a nun’s veil, reached in between Niko’s in-laws.

“Sorry, sister, we’re not finished yet,” said the mother-in-law.

The woman nodded and moved away from the table.

Niko followed her with his eyes. She never turned around, just began gathering plates from another table.

WHACK. Another smack to the left of his back and a quick pinching squeeze to his neck. He turned quickly, only to see a crowd standing around the next table. It could have been any of them. He turned back to face his family.

“Who was that?” said Niko’s wife.

“I don’t know, I didn’t see him.”

“It wasn’t a ‘him.’ It was a woman dressed in black. Maybe it was the mother of one of your baby girlfriends.”

He raised his hand as if to strike her, but caught himself and forced a smile for everyone at the table. “No idea.” He moved his raised hand to rub his neck. “But whoever she is has a mean pinch.”

Three minutes later he felt a pain in the middle of his back. No wonder, after all the smacks he’d taken. He stretched his back trying to work it out, but it only grew sharper. He rubbed his stomach. Now he felt indigestion. That damn lamb didn’t agree with him. Then came the pain in his jaw, the burning vise-grip on his chest, and the rush of adrenaline as he struggled for breath and realized he was about to die.

Eyes wide open, he stared straight ahead. Two tables away his eyes locked on a priest’s staring right back at him. Next to the priest stood a woman all in black.

The priest nodded, smiled, and took Niko’s photograph.