Jeffrey Siger - Sons of Sparta

Niko didn’t say much on the ride up. Nor did Andreas and Kouros. And at his booking Niko said little more than, “I want to see my lawyer.” Everyone knew that as soon as he went before a judge he’d be released from jail while awaiting trial. Still, Andreas and Kouros stayed around to make sure all legal formalities were followed. No way they’d let a convenient official screw-up destroy this prosecution, no matter how weak it might now seem.

Andreas drove Kouros back to Gytheio. “He sure as hell gave us a lot to think about.”

“Sociopaths can be very creative,” said Kouros.

“Yes, but even a sociopath would have a hard time coming up with a story like that and expect it to fly. I thought the way to make him talk when we found him was to play up to his ego. Hardly needed to do that.”

“He obviously knew everything the bear told us, and worked the details into his alibi story.”

“Yeah, I’m sure he got the details from the bear’s lawyer. No doubt Niko’s paying him. But there is that other point…”

“I know. Calliope.”

“Quite a story.”

“I can’t believe she had anything to do with her father’s murder. No, not ‘can’t.’ I will never believe that she did.”

“Okay, I understand your reaction. But there is that part about the priest and the photograph. Hard to imagine he’d make that up since it’s so easy to verify.”

“Not so easy. The priest won’t talk about anything having to do with my cousin. He even denied telling her about seeing her father and Stella together at that hotel.”

“I know, but maybe this time things will be different.”

“What do you mean, ‘this time’?”

“While you were busy helping out with the paperwork on Niko, Tassos called me. His buddy who brought him to Gytheio is from one of those old Syros families that once did a lot of business with folks in Gerolimenas. Tassos wanted to know if I thought it okay to ask him if he knew the priest. I said, ‘yes,’ and it turns out he knows the mother even better. So, Tassos and his friend are on their way down to see the mother and the son.”

“Why did you wait until now to tell me?”

“Because I’d rather you threw a fit alone with me in the car than in front of our suspect.”

“Fuck you.”

“Finished?”

“For now.”

The mother’s apartment sat directly above the taverna, reached by a set of stairs inside a nondescript painted wooden door on the side of the building. At the top of the stairs stood a finely finished oak door with two hand-etched glass panes backed by a lace curtain on the inside.

Tassos and his friend Stavros showed up at the mother’s door with a large box of sweets, flowers, and a bottle of seven-star Metaxa brandy. Her surprise at two unexpected visitors lasted only until she recognized Stavros. She insisted on cooking while they sat at her kitchen table, reminiscing about the old days and common friends. Tassos knew all her friends from Syros, and added some details about a few that surprised even Stavros.

Two hours into the visit, and a third of the way into the Metaxa, Tassos nodded at Stavros.

“ Keria , I keep forgetting to ask. How is your son?”

“Ah, my joy. He is a man of the cloth. His prayers will surely send my soul straight to heaven.”

Tassos leaned across the table and patted her arm. “I’m sure, keria, that no prayers will be needed to assure your place in heaven. Not after contributing your only son to the Lord’s work.”

She smiled and raised her glass. “But it doesn’t hurt to have a friend on the inside. To my son, Father Carlos.”

“To Father Carlos,” the two men said raising their glasses.

“So sorry I won’t have the chance to meet him,” said Tassos.

“Why, of course you will.” She picked up a mobile phone from the table, pressed a speed dial button, and waited. “No answer.” She dialed a second number. “I’ll try the taverna downstairs.” She waited for an answer. “Costas. Have you seen my son?”

Pause.

“Then find him.”

Pause.

“I don’t care if you’re busy, I want to see him now . Find him and tell him to come home immediately.” She hung up without saying good-bye.

She smiled at the two men staring at her. “It pays be the taverna’s landlord.”

Five minutes later the front door swung opened and in hurried Carlos, scruffier than Kouros had described but just as bleary-eyed. On seeing the two men he turned quickly and headed back toward the door.

“Where are you going?” his mother said, and without waiting for an answer added, “come here, I want you to meet some old friends.”

Carlos stopped, walked to the kitchen doorway, and stood acknowledging the men with a nod.

She pointed with a smile in her son’s direction. “This is my boy, Father Carlos. Spiritual leader of Gerolimenas.”

Carlos looked down at his dust-covered cowboy boots.

Tassos stood up, walked over to him, and extended his hand. “Hello, Father. My name is Tassos and my friend over there is Stavros. It is an honor to meet you.”

Carlos hurriedly shook Tassos’ hand. “Sorry, gentlemen, but I must run.”

Tassos wrapped his arm around Carlos’ shoulders. “I won’t hear of it. Not after all the wonderful things your mother’s been saying about you. I insist you sit with us for at least a few moments.” He steered him over to a place at the table between his chair and Stavros.

Carlos’ mother leaned across Stavros and patted her son’s arm. “Why, of course my boy can spare some time for friends of his mother.”

Had he been a deer he’d have bolted for the door. Tassos handed him a glass of brandy, and raising his own, “To your mother. A great lady.”

Carlos mumbled some words and downed his drink without attempting to touch the others’ glasses.

Tassos waited until he’d finished the drink. “I’ve always admired those who follow your calling, Father. So many souls lying bare to you the deepest of their despair. It takes a special sort of person to comfort their pain.”

Carlos nodded, looking at the Metaxa bottle as he did.

“You must meet a lot of people here in the summers.” Tassos picked up the brandy bottle. He waved it in the direction of the wall of photographs behind his mother. “And famous people, too. I recognize some from the pictures. Did you take them?”

“Yes, he takes a lot of photographs,” said his mother. “It’s his hobby.”

“Is that so?” said Tassos moving to pour brandy into Carlos’ glass. When Carlos didn’t answer, Tassos held off on pouring.

“Yes,” said Carlos, “ever since I was a boy, I’ve loved taking photographs. It captures a moment that may or may not reflect a glimpse of the subject’s soul, but it’s as close as we can get to such revelations here on Earth.”

Tassos filled Carlos’ glass. “Very well said, Father.”

“The camera makes life so much simpler, focused, understandable. At least for that instant it captures.”

Tassos nodded. “I understand your thinking. I assume you capture candid moments.”

“I try.”

Tassos waved at the wall. “From what I see, I’d say you’ve been very successful. You must use a telephoto lens.”

He nodded, and drank a bit of the brandy. “You capture reality best when the subject doesn’t realize there’s a camera watching.”

Tassos stood up and walked over to the wall of photos. “I’m really impressed. You have a unique style in the way you place the subjects within the frame. Slightly slanted off the horizon.”

“It’s my trademark.”

Tassos pointed at one photo. “This one reminds me of a photo I saw just the other day. In fact, I was told it was taken in this very port a few weeks ago. Perhaps you took it?”