Jeffrey Siger - Sons of Sparta

“If not, who?”

“Tell me about my uncle.”

“I live here,” he pointed at the taverna, “above that notable establishment. The property belongs to my dear mother, may she live another thousand years.”

“And?” said Kouros.

“Your uncle often came here with women. I’d see them driving by. No one ever notices me. They think of me as part of the place. You didn’t notice me at the funeral did you?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“But I wasn’t dressed like this. Mother said I could not wear my cassock since I wasn’t officiating at the service.”

“Did you recognize any of my uncle’s women?”

Carlos picked up his glass and smiled. “I assume you mean with him here, not at his funeral.”

Kouros simply stared.

“Just trying to lighten the moment.”

Kouros kept staring.

Carlos averted his eyes. “Most were the kind of women whose company one pays for.”

“Mostly?”

“A few divorced locals.”

“Ones with jealous boyfriends or ex-husbands?”

“Not that I knew of.”

“Are you sure?”

Carlos hesitated as the waiter arrived and placed the bottle on the table. Carlos reached for the bottle, but Kouros grabbed it first.

“Like I said, are you sure?”

Carlos bit at his lower lip. “That girl from the taverna. The one whose boyfriend committed suicide.” He crossed himself three times.

“Did you ever tell anyone about them?”

Carlos vigorously nodded no. “Never.” He crossed himself again.

“Did you ever happen to pray for their souls?”

“I may drink too much, but I wasn’t insane enough to risk making your uncle my mortal enemy by talking about things he’d know could only have come from me. Besides, I went to school with your cousin, Calliope. She is a friend and I would never do anything to harm her or her family.”

“Was there anyone else who knew?”

“I can’t say. With the others he’d come in broad daylight in the middle of the afternoon, almost as a macho demonstration.”

So much for getting truthful answers out of Panos’ hotel staff, thought Kouros.

“But with this one he came late at night,” Carlos continued.

“And you saw them?”

“God’s work permits little sleep. I was meditating along the beach by the turn at the end of the harbor when they drove in, and they were gone when I awoke at God’s brilliant light.” He took another gulp of scotch.

“When was that?”

“Several weeks ago.”

“Did you ever see them here again?”

He gestured no.

“Did you ever see someone take a photograph of them together?”

Again he gestured no.

“Did you ever tell Calliope you saw them?”

With one hand still on his partially full glass he reached for the bottle with his other. “As I said, no. I would never do anything to upset her.”

Kouros let go of the bottle.

“You heard her mirologia at the funeral?”

Carlos nodded yes.

“Why do you think she thought someone murdered her father?”

“I have no idea.” Carlos drained the glass. “Why don’t you ask her?”

***

Kouros found Calliope dressed head-to-toe in black, her hair drawn back in a tight bun, sitting on a straight-back taverna chair at the edge of the hardscrabble garden thirty feet or so outside the kitchen door. At her feet sat a large basket filled nearly to the top with potatoes. She balanced a brown ceramic bowl on her lap, deftly stripping the skin off a potato in a continuous strand with a short-blade knife gripped in her right hand. A small basket partially filled with peelings lay on the ground to her right.

“Hi, Calliope.”

She didn’t look up from her peeling. “I see you’re back.”

Kouros picked up a milking stool by the back door, brought it over by her, and sat. “How are you doing?”

She raised her eyes, stared into his for a second, and looked back at the potato.

“It must be tough,” he said.

With her left hand she dropped the potato into the bowl on her lap and reached down to pick another out of the large basket, shaking the strand of peel encircling the blade off into the other basket as she did.

“Very.”

Kouros nodded. “Would you like some water? Or coffee? I can make it.” He smiled. “After all, I am a cop.”

“Nice try, but I think you best leave the kitchen to professionals.”

“So, you’ve heard about my coffee?”

She sighed. Put a half peeled potato and the knife into the bowl, and handed it to Yianni. “Here, hold this. I’ll make us some coffee.”

He watched his cousin labor off into the kitchen. She showed no signs of energy in her walk. Perhaps she was medicated? That would make sense. Her whole life had been about taking care of her mother and father. Now both were gone. Kouros tried to remember how old she was. Probably her late thirties, maybe older. Never married. Always lived with her parents. If she wasn’t on medication, she certainly should be.

Kouros heard Calliope yelling from inside the house. “Yianni, come inside. It will be easier to have coffee at the table.”

He put the bowl on the chair, and went inside. His cousin had set the table neatly with the finest of her parents’ china, a plate of cookies in the middle.

“There was no need to go to all this trouble.”

She shrugged. “Why not? What else do I have to do? Besides why have the china if you don’t use it?” She poured the dark Greek coffee into two cups. “You take it metrio , right?”

“Yes, medium sweet.”

They sat across from each other, Calliope watching Kouros as he sipped his coffee. “So, cousin, what’s on your mind?”

“What do you mean?”

“You may be a cop, but I’ve lived among the paranoid all my life. I know when there’s something behind the eyes.”

Kouros smiled. “Do you know a Father Carlos?”

“From Gerolimenas?”

“Yes.”

“We went to school together.” She looked down at her cup. “He once had a crush on me.” She looked up. “My father said that was what drove him into the priesthood.” She gave half a laugh.

“Not sure I follow that.”

“His mother did not want her only child marrying the daughter of a…well, you can guess what she said.”

“What about the father?”

“He died at sea when Carlos was a baby.” Calliope smiled. “Some say he killed himself to escape his bitch of a wife.”

“How did you feel about Carlos?”

“It wasn’t to be, so I moved on.”

“What happened to him?”

“He drinks too much. Cost him his every chance in life. Now he is what he is. And his mother is still there, still making him suffer.”

“Do you trust him?”

“What does that mean?”

“Do you think he’d ever do anything to harm your family?”

“By that do you mean my father? Do you think that he had something to do with his murder?” Her voice was rising.

“No, absolutely not. I’m just interested in your take on him.”

“All right, Yianni, enough with this bullshit. What are you getting at?”

Kouros swallowed. “Did you know that your father was seeing women?”

“I would certainly hope so, considering the alternatives.”

“I mean women who had boyfriends, maybe even husbands.”

Her lips grew taut. “My father could take care of himself.”

Kouros looked down at his cup. “Come on, Calliope, work with me on this.”

“Okay, so my father was screwing Babis’ girlfriend. It wasn’t that hard to figure out. I lived with the man, I could tell from the way he took extra care getting dressed and preparing for his morning coffee at the taverna that he was interested in someone. And the only one down there was Stella.”