Sons of Sparta: A Chief Inspector Andreas Kaldis Mystery (8 page)

“Understood.”

Both reached for shot glasses of whiskey sitting in front of them. “
Theos singhorese ton
,” each said before clinking glasses and gulping down the shots.

God forgive his soul
indeed, thought Kouros.

***

The afternoon dragged on slowly for the family. Though many of the guests had left, the family lingered, as if reluctant to return to a world without Uncle’s presence. Most sat staring out to sea, adding one story after another to what was fast becoming the legend of Uncle. Not the least of the tales were of Uncle’s way with the ladies. Stories his sons took pride in retelling and his daughters feigned to ignore.

At the other end of the same table, five men of about Uncle’s age sat drinking, toasting, and laughing. None of them seemed in a hurry to leave.

“Who are they?” said Kouros, nodding in their direction.

“His coffee buddies,” said Mangas. “They met for coffee here every morning. Been doing that since long before the new owner took over.”

“How long ago did he take over?”

Mangas shrugged. “Six years or so? Why do you ask?”

“Just my natural cop curiosity. I’ll be right back.” Kouros slid his chair back from the table, stood, and walked over to the five men.

“
Yia sas
. Mind if I sit down?”

A chubby, bald man with a bulbous red nose and fisherman’s cap said, “Of course not. Our friend’s favorite nephew is always welcome here.”

“Even if he’s a cop,” said a silver-haired, wiry fellow with bright blue eyes.

Kouros smiled as he sat. “I see I don’t have to introduce myself.”

“We already know all about you, Athens Yianni,” said a dark-haired man with a sallow complexion, who looked the youngest of the five. “Your Uncle always talked about you. With pride. You’re always welcome here. My name is Stelios.” He extended his hand and Kouros shook it.

“I’m Konstantin,” waved the bulbous-nosed man from the other side of the table.

“And I’m Panos,” said Blue Eyes. “The two silent ones with us are Mihalis and Alexander.”

A man wearing a military-style baseball cap atop a weather-beaten face waved. “Mihalis.”

The fifth man, the only one in a suit and tie, said, “Alexander.”

“In case you don’t know, we’re all longtime buddies of your uncle,” said Panos.

“Yes, Mangas told me. On behalf of my family I want to thank you for coming. Even though I’m sure you were more like family to my uncle than I was.”

Panos gestured no. “Yes, we’re all very close, and some of us might even know each other better than our own children know us, but we are
not
family. Family is one thing. Everything else is something else.”

Kouros nodded. “But I’m certain you know more stories about Uncle than I’ll hear anywhere else.”

“For sure,” said Konstantin. “So, what sort of stories do you want to hear?”

“He’s a young guy, Konstantin. He’ll want to know about the women,” laughed Stelios.

They all laughed and toasted Uncle’s memory.

Panos said. “The old bastard used to hit on me for a free room a couple of times a month. He’d always say, ‘I only need it for an hour or so. After all, I’m not as young as I used to be.’”

They toasted Uncle again.

“Free room?” asked Kouros.

“Yes,” said Panos. “I have a hotel up the coast in Gerolimenas. He’d always be bringing different women around. Amazing how he attracted them.”

“And if he wasn’t banging them in your hotel, he’d be doing them on my boat,” said Mihalis. “He never went to sea. Just did his business right there tied up to the dock.”

“Created quite a few tsunamis if you believed him,” said Alexander.

More laughter and toasting.

“Hey, Athens Yianni, you’re not drinking,” said Stelios pouring him a shot of whiskey.

“I was afraid you’d notice. I’m too young to keep up with you.” Kouros downed the shot.

“
Theos singhorese ton
,” said all six in unison.

“So, what would you like to know, Detective Kouros?” smiled Alexander.

“Nothing more than you want to tell me.”

Panos smiled. “He’s a better politician than you, Alexander.”

“And could probably get elected honestly, too,” said Stelios.

Laughter.

“I’ll miss him,” said Alexander. “We all will. I wouldn’t be where I am in government today without him.”

“And I’d still have union troubles at my hotel without his help,” said Panos.

“On more occasions than I can remember he helped me out of jams with the coast guard over my style of fishing,” said Konstantin.

Kouros almost said, “dynamiting?” but caught himself. That undoubtedly was what he meant, and calling Konstantin on it wasn’t likely to keep him and the others talking. He wondered if by referring to it as a “style” of fishing meant that at some level he was ashamed to be among those responsible for helping to ruin fishing in Greece. Hopefully not forever.

“He brought peace to my family,” said Stelios. “Make that
our
families.”

Kouros gave him a puzzled look.

“I’m sure you know of the vendetta started by your great-grandfather. The boy he ordered your grandfather to kill was my father’s brother. It was my family who killed some of your own father’s siblings. It was your uncle who brought peace to our families.”

Alone, Stelios drank a toast to Uncle.

“Did Uncle ever talk of that vendetta?” asked Kouros.

“Not in decades,” said Stelios.

“At least not with us,” said Mihalis.

The others nodded.

“Would he have if it were on his mind?”

“I’d think so,” said Panos.

“We were the unofficial council of elders for the community,” said Stelios.

Panos said, “We started meeting decades ago for the purpose of making money. Helping each other make our businesses more profitable. But none of us work anymore, so…”

“I still do,” said Alexander.

“You’re a politician, you never worked, only took,” said Konstantin.

All but Alexander laughed.

“As I was saying, in recent years instead of talking business we’d meet each morning to talk about problems facing our community and try to find solutions.”

“What sorts of problems?”

“The kind people told us about or we learned from the news.”

“Including newspapers?”

“That was your Uncle’s specialty. Every morning he’d have the paper waiting for him at the table, and while we told stories he’d read it. After he finished we’d talk about whatever there was for us to worry about.”

“Did my uncle have anything to ‘worry about’?”

“Only with what to do with all the money he expected to get from his hotel project,” said Panos.

“You knew about that?”

“Of course we did,” said Alexander. “Like Panos said, we helped each other. And kept whatever we talked about to ourselves. I promised to set him up with whatever permits he needed, and Panos gave him advice on how to get the best hotel deal.”

Kouros looked at Panos. “You weren’t worried about the competition?”

“Competition? My son helps runs the hotel now, and we’d love some competition. It would bring in more tourists. Besides, my place is on the sea, your uncle’s was in the middle of rocks. I still don’t know what was on the mind of the fool who had planned on leasing the place.”

“
Had planned
?”

“Yes, your uncle hadn’t signed the papers yet. He died the day before the scheduled signing. Rotten luck for the family.”

“But don’t worry,” said Alexander. “I’ll make sure the deal still goes through.”

“Assuming the goddamned Ukrainian still wants to do the deal,” said Konstantin.

And that my uncle’s sons and daughters are willing, thought Kouros. “Ukrainian?”

“Yeah, your uncle said the buyer came from the Ukraine. Though he might be Russian,” said Konstantin.

“Why wouldn’t he want to go through with the deal?” said Alexander.

Konstantin’s nose was pulsing. “Because the bastard will probably see some advantage to renegotiating. To drive the price down. Those types are ruthless when it comes to business. Especially the Russians. I’ve seen them fishing.”

“Uh, yeah, but let’s not forget who he’s dealing with. Mangas ain’t exactly an Athenian pansy.” Mihalis caught himself. “Sorry, Yianni. No offense intended.”

Kouros shook his head. “None taken.”

“After all, you and I are both cops. At least I used to be, and I was a childhood friend of your father.”

“Mihalis used to be chief of police in these parts,” said Alexander.

“I see,” said Kouros. “Weren’t any of you worried that with so many powerful people meeting every morning in the same place you might be a target?”

“You mean for someone wanting to take out the competition?” smiled Alexander.

“Or just to settle a grudge,” said Kouros.

“Is that what you think happened? That someone settled an old grudge with your uncle?” Panos nodded. “It’s good to think like that. We were just talking about that same possibility.”

The others at the table nodded.

“And?” said Kouros.

“There’s absolutely no one out there we can think of with any sensible reason for going after your uncle at this point in his life.”

“No one?”

“No one,” repeated Panos.

They all nodded.

“What about someone with a nonsensible reason?”

“Good luck on finding that one,” said Mihalis.

A light-coffee skinned girl no more than twenty years old came over to their table and said in accented Greek, “Are you okay? Do you need anything else?”

“Just more of your loving,” said Konstantin.

The girl laughed and smacked him lightly on the back of his head.

“After all, with our great friend gone, who will there be to pinch your butt?” asked Mihalis slowly extending his hand in the direction of the girl’s rear. She smiled as she scooted away from his hand. Her face turned sad. “Yes, I shall miss him.”

She turned and walked away, giving Kouros a clear vision of the recent topic of discussion.

“Ah, if I were only twenty years younger,” said Konstantin.

“Forty, you mean,” said Mihalis.

“Who is she?” said Kouros.

“She works here,” said Panos. “She’s the girlfriend of the guy who runs the place. He’s a Greek from a town in the northwest Peloponnese. Pirgos,” said Mihalis.

“She’s an Arab. Probably illegal. He brought her here about a year ago. Damn fine addition too,” said Konstantin.

“Someone from immigration actually had the balls to walk in here one morning while we were here and ask for her papers,” said Mihalis.

“That was quite a morning,” laughed Panos. “The poor girl was scared to death and your uncle just sat at our table—we always sit in the front room—and motioned with his index finger for the idiot to come over to our table.”

“The stupid son of a bitch didn’t even know who your uncle was. He stormed over and demanded your uncle’s ID.” Alexander burst out laughing.

Panos said, “Your uncle calmly pulled out his wallet and handed him his identity card. The expression on the asshole’s face when he realized who he’d just called out was priceless.”

Stelios said, “Your uncle calmly said, ‘Now leave here and never, ever come back.’”

“I never saw anyone move so fast,” said Konstatin. He raised his glass. “To your uncle. There never was and shall never be another like him.”

“
Theos singhorese ton
.”

By the time Kouros left the taverna he was as drunk as the rest of the men in the place. How he got back to his uncle’s house was a miracle.

If he remembered in the morning all that he’d heard in the taverna it would be an even greater one.

Chapter Eight

Dinner was called for nine at the Kaldises’ home. A bit early by Athens standards, but it helped Lila convince Maggie that eating there rather than in a restaurant would not be a bother to her. “I’m not cooking, Marietta is,” had Maggie wavering but it took Lila saying “It will give you and Tassos a chance to see Tassaki,” to close the deal.

From the moment Maggie entered the apartment, Tassaki was all over her. He loved his “Aunt Maggie,” and as a precocious three-year-old, knew to negotiate the terms of his bedtime surrender up-front, while his parents still wanted him around.

“I promise to go to bed if
Theia
Maggie reads me a story,” kept Maggie and Lila in his bedroom for almost an hour.

“That kid is a born deal-making politician,” said Tassos from a couch in the living room.

“I thought you liked him?” said Andreas sitting next to him.

Tassos laughed and gestured with his wineglass in the direction of the windows lining the wall across from him. “Hard to imagine how he won’t aspire to greatness with such a glorious view of the Acropolis every time he looks in that direction.”

“I just hope he doesn’t take it for granted. That’s the downside of all this.” Andreas picked up a wine bottle from a silver ice bucket on the coffee table in front of them and poured some into Tassos’ glass. “Lila would kill me if she saw me doing this instead of asking Marietta to do it for us.”

“Stop complaining. You’ve got a great family.”

“I thought you were on my side?” Andreas smiled.

“I am. That’s why I told you to stay away from Orestes.”

“And I listened.”

“Really?”

“Sort of.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I followed your suggestion and told the prosecutor to subpoena the companies on his list.”

“And?”

Andreas took a sip of wine. “I’m keeping an eye on him.”

“Why?”

“Don’t know yet, depends on what he’s up to. I want to know if he has any plans on getting back at me for not playing ball.”

“And how do you intend on learning what’s in his mind?”

“I have someone from outside the unit keeping an eye on him.”

“Why outside the unit? Do you think there’s a leak?”

Andreas gestured no. “But Spiros is the big boss and if he finds out, God knows what he might say to Orestes to keep on his good side.”

“Who’d you bring in?”

“His name is Petro Dangas. He’s a tough kid, who works at GADA but moonlights at a club where Orestes hangs out. I told him to keep track of Orestes’ guests and associates. I want to know who’s getting his special attention.”

“Can you trust the guy?”

“My instincts say yes. He’s been on the force less than two years, and six months ago transferred to headquarters’ security from a vice unit in the wild-ass western suburbs.”

“Why would he leave a wide-open, take-what-you-can money-making assignment like that?” smiled Tassos.

“I thought the same thing, so I spoke to his former precinct commander.”

“Surprised he talked to you.”

“I promised not to bust his balls if he told me the truth. And to ground them up into powder if he didn’t.”

“You do know how to make friends in the department.”

Andreas shrugged. “He told me the kid ‘wouldn’t get with the program.’”

“Sounds like a hell of an endorsement.”

“I took it the same way. He got the kid transferred to a place where all he’ll ever get to do is tell tourists not to take pictures of the building and look tough for photo ops.”

“Some career.”

“Which is why he jumped at the chance to keep an eye on Orestes. He reports only to me.”

“Why do you have such a hard-on for Orestes?”

Andreas smiled. “Interesting choice of words. You can’t imagine.”

Lila and Maggie swept into the room.

“Your little angel is asleep, Chief.”

“Thanks to Maggie. He listens to her,” said Lila.

“We all do,” said Tassos.

“It’s a fear-driven response,” said Andreas.

Lila laughed. “On that note, dinner is served.”

“Oh, great. Time for more little boys and their stories.” Maggie winked at Lila. “At least we begin our fairy tales with ‘Once upon a time.’”

***

Kouros didn’t bother to look at the clock when he woke up. He knew it was morning and that was all he wanted to know. He ran his head under the shower for ten minutes, a real waste of water in parched Mani, and after searching around the bathroom he found some long-expired ibuprofen. He swallowed more than prescribed, stared in the mirror, and made the solemn pledge so many have vowed in similar moments of clarity: “If I survive, never again. I promise.”

He dressed in jeans and a polo shirt and followed the smell of coffee out into the kitchen. His mother handed him a cup as he walked into the room. He made a point not to look her in the eyes, just gave her a quick peck on both cheeks, said “
Kali mera
,” grabbed two biscuits off the table, and headed out the kitchen door. He didn’t need a maternal lecture, his lesson had been learned through on-the-job experience. Again.

Kouros walked five paces from the door, closed his eyes, and for a moment did nothing more than concentrate on breathing in the brisk salt air laced with random whiffs of wild herbs. He opened his eyes and stared out across the plateau toward the bare-as-the-moon Saggias Mountains. It was a typical cloudless, brilliant blue-sky day in the Mani. He wondered why he always thought of Mani skies as gray. Maybe it had something to do with the bloody history of the landscape beneath them? Not just from battles against Turks, Franks, Bavarians, Venetians, and so many other would-be conquerors, but in neighbor-against-neighbor savagery as merciless as any World War I trench warfare.

He shook his head. Hard to imagine all of this ending up as a golf course. Still, these days nothing seemed to remain the same for long where there was money to be made. And it wasn’t as if explorers had come across a lost tribe living a Stone Age existence and, by announcing their find to the world, sealed the doom of their discovery’s ancient ways.

No, the modern world had always touched the Mani. It just never held on very long, because the Mani had a tendency to burn a dabbler’s fingers. Maybe this time would be different. Kouros sure hoped so. The hard-working strugglers around here could sure use some good luck.

He wondered how his own life might change if he had money coming in regularly without having to work for it. Make that honest money. He’d never thought about anything like that before. His father raised him to expect to work hard for whatever he wanted. Kouros took a sip of coffee. No reason to start daydreaming about that sort of life now, because it didn’t seem likely the deal would go through, at least not as his uncle had envisioned it. His uncle’s interest in the property had passed to his children, not Kouros. Now it was their call.

He shook his head, thought of his uncle, and remembered he’d promised Mangas to get the autopsy report off to Athens. He’d noticed a scanner in his uncle’s office. He’d send it as soon as he finished his coffee.

Coffee
. Another memory triggered. The synapses had begun to fire again.

His uncle’s everyday coffee crew was a bunch of bad guys, no matter how charming and likable they seemed. And whether truly the “council of elders” they fashioned themselves to be, Kouros knew they hadn’t told him anything close to what actually took place in their morning meetings. He might be Uncle’s “favorite” nephew, but he was still a cop and, with Uncle gone, they had little reason to treat him much better than any other Maniot prying into their affairs.

Still, he had to try. On the surface several had potential motives, most unmistakably Stelios, whose family—maybe even he—once exchanged vendetta killings with Kouros’ family. Yet that seemed too obvious to be likely. But if his uncle had been murdered, everyone was suspect, beginning with those he did business with.

Kouros finished off the biscuits in two bites and downed his coffee. There would be time for more coffee later, after he’d sent the autopsy report on to Athens and dropped in on his uncle’s crew at the taverna for a more sober chat. Why not? After all, they’d told him he was “always welcome.”

***

It was eleven by the time Kouros walked into the taverna. The only one in the front room was the waitress.

“May I help you?” she said.

“Uh, yes, I’m looking for friends of my uncle. They have coffee together here every morning.”

“Oh, yes, I remember you. You’re the nephew from Athens. They were talking about you this morning.”

“You mean they’re gone?”

She nodded. “They’re here every morning at nine and gone by ten-thirty.”

Wow, he thought. Those old guys drank even more than I did. How did they ever make it out of bed for coffee by nine?

“They thought you might show up this morning.”

“Did they say why?”

She shrugged. “Said you might have more questions about your uncle.”

So much for the element of surprise, thought Kouros.

“They left a message for you if you showed up.”

“What’s the message?”

“‘The trick is to have water in the glass with your whiskey.’”

Kouros burst out laughing.

The girl laughed, too. “Coffee?”

“Yes, please.”

He watched her walk toward the kitchen. Tight black jeans, tight white t-shirt, dark hair, dark eyes, great butt. Front not bad either. Kouros’ blood started to pulse. Watching her walk seemed likely to sober him up a hell of a lot faster than coffee.

She came out of the kitchen with a coffeepot in one hand and a cup and plate of cookies in the other.

Kouros smiled. “My name’s Yianni.”

She smiled back. “Stella.” She put down the coffeepot, cup, and plate.

He held out his hand. “Pleased to meet you.”

She took his hand and he gripped hers. Neither made an effort to let go of the other. They smiled at each other and he withdrew his hand.

“How well did you know my uncle?”

She looked down at the floor. The smile was gone. “Very well. He was a nice man and always kind to me.”

“Do you know anyone who might have wanted to harm him?”

“Harm him?” She looked up and seemed surprised. “Do you think it wasn’t an accident?”

Kouros shook his head. “No, I’m just used to asking those sorts of questions. It comes from being a cop.”

“You’re a cop?” She seemed afraid.

“Don’t worry. I know about your incident with immigration. I’m not going to hassle you. You were a friend of my uncle, and that’s good enough for me.” He patted her on her bare forearm.

Stella smiled and touched his shoulder. “Thank you.”

“Now will you answer my question?”

She looked down at the floor. “I only knew him from his mornings here. He always sat with his friends and I never heard anyone say a bad word about him.”

“Did you ever overhear any talk of threats against him?”

“No, I never listened to their conversations.”

Kouros knew she was lying. But, that was to be expected. He was an outsider, and a cop on top of that. She’d be crazy to tell him what her customers talked about, especially those customers.

“How did my uncle get his morning newspaper?”

She looked up. “The man who owns the minimarket at the bottom of the hill on the other side of Vathia always delivered it here.”

“When?”

“Around eight.”

“Who’d he give it to?”

“He’d put it on the table at the place where your uncle always sat.”

“Did he ever give it to him personally?”

She gestured no. “He’d have a quick coffee and leave before they got here.”

“Did anyone ever look at my uncle’s paper before he arrived?”

She shrugged. “I didn’t. Maybe Babis did once or twice, but I don’t know for sure.”

“Who’s Babis?”

“He’s my…my boss.”

“Where is he?”

“Right here,” said a booming voice behind Kouros.

Kouros turned his head and saw a dark, burly Greek of about Kouros’ height, but heavier, standing in the doorway between the two dining rooms.

“Hi, I’m Yianni Kouros.”

“What do you want?”

Kouros smiled. “We met here yesterday after my uncle’s funeral.”

“Like I said, what do you want?”

Kouros swung his body around so that he was facing the man head on. “That’s a very inhospitable Maniot way to act.”

“I’m from Pirgos.”

Kouros smiled. “That explains it.”

The man stepped toward Kouros. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Kouros now forced a smile. “Ease up there, Babis. It was a joke.”

“I don’t like jokes about my hometown.”

“I have a question for you, Babis. With this hair-up-your-ass attitude how did you ever end up in the hospitality business?”

Babis took another step toward Kouros. “Listen,
malaka
, I don’t need your horny sort sniffing around my help. Just have your coffee and get out of here.”

Kouros glanced at Stella. She’d brought her right hand across her chest to grip her upper left arm and stood staring at Babis’ feet, shaking.

Kouros stood. “I don’t know what’s with you, but I suggest you get a grip on yourself. I’m just asking questions about my uncle and I’m going to have a few for you, too.”

“Fuck you,” said Babis, stepping in front of Kouros and grabbing Stella by the arm. “And you,
putana
, into the kitchen.” He pulled her forward by her arm then flung her back in the direction of the kitchen.

Kouros stepped between them, his face right up against Babis’. “Hold it right there.”

Babis glared at Kouros, but it faded into a smile.

“That’s better,” said Kouros.

At that instant Babis drew his knee up hard into Kouros’ groin, doubling Kouros over, and drove his elbow down onto the back of Kouros’ head.

Kouros stumbled forward onto a table. Babis picked up a chair and swung it down at Kouros’ back, but Kouros slid off onto the floor and the chair shattered into pieces against the table. Babis grabbed a table leg and swung wildly at Kouros as he struggled to his feet. Kouros ducked and drove forward, delivering a forearm across Babis’ face that sent him reeling back onto a table. Kouros kept coming, grabbed Babis by his chest, lifted him off the table, and with a quick, powerful open palm thrust to Babis’ jaw, dropped him like rock onto the floor.