Jeffrey Siger - Sons of Sparta

“Someone showed Babis a photograph of your father and Stella coming out of a room in Panos’ hotel.”

“And you think that’s why Babis murdered my father?”

“It sure gave him a motive.”

“And you think Carlos took the photograph?”

“Or knows who did.”

“I don’t see why you think that.”

“You’ve already given a reason to believe that he could. He’s a drunk. He’d do anything for a drink. And probably not remember in the morning that he had. Look, someone took a photograph that ended up in the hands of the man who murdered your father.”

She slammed her hands on the table. “NEVER. Not Carlos, I cannot believe he would betray me or my family.”

“Okay, then, who would?”

“How would I know?”

“You practically named names in your mirologia . Who did you mean?”

She crossed her arms and began to rock.

“Are you all right?”

No answer.

“Do you need something? Medicine perhaps?” There was real worry in Kouros’ voice.

She stopped rocking and shook her head. “No, but thank you. The doctor wants me to take pills, but I can’t. I don’t want to lose my visions.”

“What visions?”

“Of those responsible for my father’s death. Yes, Babis was the assassin, but there are others. Of that I’m certain.” She started rocking again, then stopped abruptly. “My father would say, ‘Stop, enough. The killer is dead, end it there.’”

“And he would be right. But I am a cop. I don’t have to end it. I don’t want to end it. Tell me who you think did this to your father?”

She dropped her head and shook it. “Father never should have started up with the Ukrainian and this hotel business. I told him not to.”

“You think the Ukrainian had him murdered?”

“Who else had a motive?”

This was not the time to trot out a list of other possible suspects for her and her brothers. “That’s what I’m trying to find out. Any ideas?”

“Only the Ukrainian.”

“But why? He had a deal with your father. Why kill the person giving you what you wanted?”

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore. It depresses me. And I have cooking to do.” She looked at Kouros’ face. “Where are you staying?”

Kouros fought back a blush. “Not sure yet.”

Calliope smiled. “Be careful. I have no ill will toward her. But the men attracted to her have not done well.”

“What makes you think-?”

She raised her hand to cut Kouros off. “Cousin, please. If there’s one thing you should know by now it’s that there are no secrets in the deep Mani.”

Kouros picked up his coffee, finished it, and put down the cup. “I’ll remember that.”

***

Kouros stopped by the edge of the road just over the crest of the hill beyond Vathia. He wondered how many more Romeo and Juliet-style secrets lay hidden in his family tree. The classic Greek version cast his doomed Great-aunt Calliope and her lover in the title roles. Next came the Uncle-Stella-Babis love-triangle production. And now he’d discovered the unrequited love version, starring cousin Calliope and her wacky, ex-boyfriend priest, Carlos. Not lucky in love, his family.

Kouros knew the pressures all too well. His mother had drummed them into his head since puberty. “You will marry a Greek girl. A good Greek girl.” When he turned twenty-five she backed off her requirement that his choice be from the Mani.

It was almost enough to have him reconsider Stella’s offer to spend the night with her. Almost.

He reached for his mobile and hit a speed dial button.

“Kaldis here.”

“Things are getting interesting, Chief. Make that painfully so.”

“Sounds like a Chinese proverb. What do you have?”

“It turns out that priest I told you about on my way over to see my cousin Calliope wanted to marry her when they were young.”

“She told you that?”

“Not directly, but that’s the way it was.”

“What happened?”

“His family forbade it.”

“Did your uncle?”

“Doesn’t sound as if he did.”

“If he had, that would give the priest a terrific motive for revenge against your uncle.”

“My cousin said there’s not a chance he’d harm her father. If his mother had been the victim, then I’d say we definitely had a suspect.”

“Where do we go from here?”

“That’s what I planned on asking you. My cousin thinks the Ukrainian is behind her father’s murder, but she didn’t come up with a reason. I didn’t want to mention the Pirgos angle and get her agitating for a war against them, too.”

“I’m still waiting to hear back from Tassos on what he’s able to dig up from his arms dealer friend on the Pirgos boys who paid Stella a visit.

“So, what should I do now?”

“Just sit tight where you are until we see what Tassos turns up. Hope that doesn’t wreck your plans on getting back to Athens.”

Kouros glanced in the direction of the taverna. “No problem, Chief. It will give me time to brush up on my Shakespeare.”

“Strip, it’s Tassos. I hope I’m not disturbing you.”

“As if you actually care. Give me your number-a land line-and I’ll call you back in two minutes.”

Tassos gave him the number and hung up. He knew Strip would be returning the call from a secure phone. No way Strip would ever trust a serious conversation to Greece’s mobile phone system. Tassos couldn’t fault him. Caution had kept Strip breathing all these years and never prosecuted for so much as jaywalking-so long as you didn’t count the many courtrooms he’d seen for speeding tickets.

Tassos picked up the phone in Maggie’s apartment on the first ring. “Thanks for calling back.”

“I figured it was better than you showing up in the middle of Dimitri’s granddaughter’s wedding and asking me to dance.”

“Whoops, I forgot about that, sorry.”

“No problem. I’ve been to one of hers before.”

Tassos laughed.

“And with the new malaka she’s picked for a husband, I’m betting I’ll be invited to another sooner rather than later. Why do they always go for the show and never the substance?”

“In my youth I tried selling that line to a lot of girls. It never worked with them either.”

Strip laughed. “So, what sort of questions do you have for me to duck this time?”

“I always appreciated your honesty, Strip, but I don’t think what I’m interested in is going to be a problem for you. I don’t care about the Ukrainian. It’s his competitors I want to know about.”

“The ones from the Peloponnese?”

“Yes. What can you tell me about them?”

“That’s a pretty broad question covering a lot of possible people. Anyone specific in mind?”

“All I have is some silly description of three hard-ass types.”

“Silly’s better than nothing. Shoot.”

“A bear, a mole, and a skunk.”

“What’s this, some kind of ‘pull poor old Strip’s leg’ bullshit?”

“Just tell me if you can think of anyone tied into arms smuggling on the Peloponnese who might be described as a bear, a mole, or a skunk.”

“Damn you, Tassos, if this is a gag…hmmm. What do you mean by a ‘skunk’?”

“A white shock of hair right down the middle of his head.”

“Son of a bitch. You’re talking about Niko. A bear and a mole I don’t know.”

“So tell me about Niko.”

“He’s one of five brothers. Niko’s the only one I know. The others aren’t in the arms business. It’s a small-time operation, but he’s a smart, careful, hard-ass son of a bitch who knows how to do deals that make him a pretty good living without attracting a lot of attention.”