Devil of Delphi: A Chief Inspector Andreas Kaldis Mystery (11 page)

Chapter Eleven

Kouros drove around for about an hour before parking down by the harbor, close by the city’s most famous landmark, a white tower literally called that in Greek,
Levkos Pirgos.
Thoroughly renovated on the inside, broad steps wound from one level up to the next, offering a mesmerizing exhibition of the history of Thessalonki to the climber. But Kouros never left the car. His thoughts weren’t on touring.

He’d left multiple messages with Andreas and Maggie for Andreas to call him ASAP. Kouros tried making sense out of what he’d just witnessed. Whoever the stranger, the guy had balls. Huge ones. Which likely meant he worked for someone Tank feared. You just don’t walk into a mob place like that and act as if you owned it.

Right. I should listen to my own advice.

Kouros’ mobile rang and he picked up on the first ring. “Hi, Chief.”

“Don’t tell me you were in the middle of that
cafenion
mess?”

Kouros stared at the phone. “How the hell did you know about that?”

“From Maggie.”

“How did she know?”

“Our beloved boss, the Minister of Public Order, had her pull me out of a department heads meeting to tell me how all hell had broken loose in a
cafenion
in Thessaloniki. I had her stay on the line to take notes and after Spiros hung up she told me that the address of the place he’d gone on about was the same as she’d given you for Tank.”

“But what was there for him to go on about? Nothing happened.”

“I’ll take that to mean you’re the stranger who left just before another stranger put a bullet hole into the forehead of a beloved female member of one of Greece’s most prominent political families.”

“Tank’s sister?”

“You got it.”

“Holy Mother. I wouldn’t have left if I thought he’d kill her.” Kouros told Andreas all that had happened.

“Sounds to me if you hadn’t left there’d have been two bodies sporting bullet holes in their foreheads. The shooter was a definite pro.”

“He said he had a message to deliver to Tank.”

“As in a bullet to his sister’s head?”

“I’m not sure how he came up with that, but he definitely said he was sent there to deliver a message to Tank.”

“‘Sent?’ By whom?”

“Didn’t say, except it was from someone who felt Tank had ‘betrayed trust.’”

“Well, if that was the goal, it worked,” said Andreas. “According to our minister, who obviously didn’t know the facts you just told me, it got the attention of Tank’s entire family and media all across Greece.”

“I shouldn’t have left.” Kouros’ throat tightened as he paused to compose himself.

Andreas spoke. “The shooter killed her right in front of her brother and a shitload of bad guys with guns, but got away without anyone laying a hand on him. How in the hell could that happen unless the brother knew whoever sent the shooter, and what sort of hell would follow if he went after him?”

“I can’t believe he killed the girl.”

“What’s the matter? Because the victim was a she instead of a he, you think an innocent died? Okay, she flirted with you, but that only meant she was charming. There are a lot of real charmers out there who are deadly characters, both male and female. You know that. And I’ll lay you hundred-to-one odds that Miss Congeniality was the one who told her brother to come by after acting like your snuggle buddy.”

“Yeah, but….”

“Think about it. The sister had options. Thanks to her family’s money and influence she could have made any kind of life for herself that she wanted. But she chose to get her kicks out of being part of her brother’s mobster lifestyle. Those sorts of decisions come at a price, and she paid the ultimate one.”

“That’s still not a reason to kill her. I should have stayed. At least identified myself as a cop.”

“Of course it’s not a reason to kill her. But stop beating yourself up over this. The shooter was a pro. He never said or did anything to indicate he was going to harm anyone. In fact, he stepped in to stop you from harming Tank. At best you’d have delayed him from killing her until after you’d left. At worst he’d have killed you on the spot for being a cop who could identify him. You went with your instincts and they saved your life. The only coincidences I believe in are the nasty ones that get cops killed. You were in the wrong place at the wrong time, and only by the grace of God didn’t end up with a bullet in your brain. Be thankful and move on. Period.”

“End of story?”

“No, not quite. The minister wants us to get to the bottom of this, yesterday. ‘We can’t tolerate foreign mobsters intimidating legitimate Greek business owners,’ were his precise words.”

“Where did the minister get the idea foreigners were involved? The shooter was Greek.”

“From Tank I assume. Tank described the killer, and get this. According to him, you have a twin brother out there somewhere. But Balkan.”

“The killer looks nothing like me. He’s tall and wiry and one hundred percent Greek.”

“Well, Tank obviously needed a description to run with his story, but didn’t dare point at the guy who actually did it.”

“Not so sure that’s a bingo card I’m happy to win once the local cops pull my prints off the crime scene.”

“I doubt that will happen. You’re Tank’s mystery man cover story for a big mess. Not just to the press, but his family. I doubt he’ll want you appearing as a witness to tell what really happened, and if he finds out you’re a cop in Special Crimes, for sure he won’t want to draw you in and ruin his little fantasy explanation for his family. My guess is he’ll bury any connections to you.”

“As long as he doesn’t decide to bury me along with them.”

“Don’t see any reason for him doing that. But if he does, I can assure you I’ll find some pretext for arresting him.”

“That makes me feel all better.”

“Since you raised the point, though, just to be on the safe side, I want you back in Athens ASAP.”

“What about my tailing the guys connected to Tank’s counterfeit booze operation?”

“After this episode, I think you best forget about tailing anyone tied to Tank around Thessaloniki. I’ll get Petro to pick up on that. You have to focus on identifying the shooter. If you do, it might give us an idea of who sent him. Maybe even a link to whoever’s behind this multinational counterfeit booze empire.”

“You really think so?”

“One can hope. But just identifying the shooter will give us a real angle on Tank. We already know he’s afraid enough of our shooter’s connections to let him walk away from murdering his sister. A police ID of the killer should scare him shitless. Maybe get him to do something stupid.”

“I can’t imagine Tank and his people backing me up, even if I identified the killer.”

“But think of the glorious possibilities. I, being duty bound, will of course pass your match along to our minister who, being the ass-kissing, favor cultivator he is, will undoubtedly race to the dead girl’s family with his record time, Sherlock Holmes-like solution of the mystery. Tank will then have to decide between denying or agreeing with what he’ll know we know is the correct identification of his sister’s killer. If he denies your pick and it comes out that he’s lying, he risks ostracism from his family’s power and fortune. And if he agrees with you, he knows he’s face-to-face with whatever nightmare is lurking out there behind the killer.”

“Both wonderful choices,” said Kouros. “The kind that might drive a fellow like Tank into striking a deal with us that doesn’t require him to choose.”

“Precisely. And it all begins with little old you coming back here to go through mug shots until you find our guy.”

“Funny, you say that. Now that I think about it, something about that guy’s face struck me as familiar. I didn’t have much of a chance to study him in the
cafenion
, but definitely something about him made me think I’d seen him before.”

“That’s why the good Lord invented mug shots. They give you the chance to reconnect with old friends.”

“Sort of like Facebook for felons,” said Kouros. “All right, I’d better run. Got a plane to catch.”

“Later.”

***

Teacher sat smiling at the photo on her desk. “We chose wisely.”

She’d not wanted Tank as her collaborator in Greece. She preferred a Balkan foreigner, same as in her other Western European operations. Balkan mobsters were far easier to control than those native to their countries. Not because they were less dangerous. To the contrary, Balkan mobsters were among the most ruthless on earth. No, the key difference was the manner in which they operated and stayed in power. As foreigners, they maintained their influence with bribes to corrupt local police and government officials. If a lesson needed to be taught to one of her Balkan collaborators, Teacher could out-bribe them with the authorities, destroying their operations if necessary.

Local mobsters, however, had family and friends to protect them, presenting far more complicated ties to overcome than those based on corruption. As Teacher saw it, working with local mobsters put her at a distinct disadvantage should they misbehave, especially in a country like Greece with its historically entrenched, narrow-minded attitudes toward foreigners doing business on Greek soil.

But that wasn’t Teacher’s only concern with Tank. She saw him as a self-absorbed egotist, the worst example of a spoiled child of a connected family. He thought he could do anything, and no matter how many times he failed, his family would be there to bail him out.

When Tank had learned of Teacher’s interest in entering the counterfeit booze business in Greece, he’d claimed his involvement in the legitimate side of the business made him perfect for her and pressed hard to work with her there. So hard that potential non-Greek competitors for the position who didn’t withdraw found their residency permits unexpectedly revoked and their families deported.

Reluctantly, Teacher took the risk of going with Tank. It was a mistake she would not have made back when she relied upon her instincts in building her empire, instead of presuming that all who now chose to work with her knew to fear her iron fist. At first, it all worked smoothly, but having been insulated by his family all his life from any fear of consequences, within six months Tank was cheapening the formulas and skimming money.

I must send Tank a thank you note,
she thought
. After all, it was his misbehavior that prompted my finding Kharon.

Her instructions to Kharon had been simple: “Don’t kill him. All I want is for my other collaborators to get the message that if I am willing to do this in Greece to a member of a powerful Greek family who defies me, imagine what I’m prepared to do to those of you who are strangers in foreign lands.”

She’d left it to Kharon to decide how best to get that message across.

Teacher sat in front of her computer, waiting for the first international news report on what Kharon had called to tell her he’d achieved. As if summoned by her will, a headline popped onto her screen: ASSASSIN MURDERS DAUGHTER OF GREEK POLITICAL GIANT IN FRONT OF BROTHER.

Well done, young man, well done.

***

Five minutes after leaving the
cafenion
, Kharon abandoned the stolen motorcycle he’d used to get there, stole another to take him to where he’d parked the one he’d borrowed from Jacobi, and called Teacher with a brief, cryptic description of what had happened. He kept below the speed limit all the way back to Delphi and wore a helmet, though he doubted any cop would stop him if he hadn’t. Still, he saw no reason to take chances. One coincidental meeting with a cop today was enough.

From what he’d overheard of the cop’s conversation with the sister, he hadn’t been able to make out what was on the cop’s mind, but he guessed the man’s purpose for being there had something to do with her brother.

Kharon couldn’t believe his good luck when Tank walked into the place and decided to play Rambo with a cop cool enough to handle him. That gave Kharon the dramatic opportunity he’d needed to focus everyone in the room on his purpose for being there, and inspiration for a new ending to the scene. Let the cop walk, and drop the sister.

Not many who knew of Tank’s sister’s role in his operations would mourn her. According to Kharon’s connections in Thessaloniki, she was Tank’s “black widow,” using her sweetness-and-light act as an innocent waitress act to set up many a man for the wrath of her brother’s macho temper. Watching her perform her routine with the cop was what had inspired Kharon to rethink his big finish.

One must always be open to improvisation.

Chapter Twelve

“It’s your favorite minister, Chief,” came through the speakerphone on Andreas’ desk.

“Thanks, Maggie.” Andreas picked up the phone. “Kaldis here.”

“One moment please for Minister Renatis.”

Andreas looked at his watch. How long it took for his boss to pick up generally proved a reliable inverse indicator of his agitation level. The shorter the wait, the greater the likely explosion.

Spiros jumped on in less than five seconds. “We’ve got a catastrophe on our hands. We’ve got the prime minister, and every media outlet in Greece breathing down our necks to capture the killer of that poor woman in Thessaloniki.”

“You mean that hardworking Pakistani mother of three dragged off the street on her way home from work, sexually abused, beaten to death, and carved up with swastikas by homegrown Nazi skinheads?”

Andreas listened to his boss draw in and release a deep breath.

“You know that’s not what I’m talking about.”

“I guessed as much, but it does make me curious.”

“Curious?”

“That Pakistani mother died less than a month ago, and when I suggested
we
look into it you said, ‘
We
have more important things to do’ and that ‘local cops handle those sorts of cases far better than
we
do.’ I’m just curious about what’s changed your mind.”

“Stop busting my balls, Andreas. You know as well as I do they’re two very different situations.”

“Yeah, one involves a member of a poor immigrant family of color offering little of continuing interest to the press, while the other has rich, connected Greek parents and hordes of reporters falling all over themselves in a twenty-four/seven media feeding frenzy.”

“It’s the world we live in, Andreas. You might think you can change it, but I have no such delusions I can. One thing I do know, though, is that if
we
don’t pull out all stops at solving this, what will change is our employment status.”

Andreas smiled. “I can’t believe you’re actually trying logic to convince me that your thinking is right, and not just screaming into the phone when I disagree.”

“I’ve decided reason may be a better way to deal with you. But don’t get too carried away, the bottom line’s the same. We have to find the foreign bastard who killed her in front of her brother.”

“Why do you say he’s ‘foreign?’”

“That’s what the brother told the local police. He said he saw the whole thing from beginning to end. A brutal, horrific experience.”

“Are those his words or yours?”

“His, according to the police. He said he was sitting at a table at the far end of the room facing the door and having coffee with customers. His sister, who liked helping out as a waitress, was taking an order from a table next to the front door when the killer opened the door, took two steps inside to where she stood, shot her in the forehead, and left.”

“Sounds like a professional.”

“Precisely my thinking. The brother said it was like watching a movie, and in the few stunned seconds it took for him to comprehend he’d just seen his sister murdered, the killer had escaped on a motorbike parked with its motor running just outside the
cafenion’s
front door.”

“That’s definitely a story I’d call ‘horrific,’” said Andreas.
And phony too
, he wanted to add, but decided it best not to let Spiros know just yet what had actually happened. Spiros might be trying to change his ways, but Andreas doubted whether he’d quite reached the point of overcoming his sycophantic dependency on the press. His boss had mastered the art of justifying to himself how passing along juicy bits of inside information endearing him to the media actually benefited rather than impeded a pending investigation.

For the time being Andreas wanted Tank thinking the police had no reason to disbelieve his story, giving him all the rope he needed to hang himself and snare those behind his sister’s murder in the process. With that in mind, Andreas decided to keep his questions for Spiros to the expected routine.

“How did the brother know the killer was foreign?”

“What do you mean?”

“From the story you told me no one ever heard the killer speak.”

“Good point. Maybe there was a verbal exchange. That’s why I need you. To catch things everyone else misses.”

“Nice try, but flattery’s not going to work.”

“I don’t think you understand, Andreas. I need you on this case
now
.”

“Your voice is rising, Spiros. Do something before you lose your zen state.”

Andreas heard forced breathing on the other end of the phone.

“This isn’t funny. I’m trying. It’s difficult.” More pronounced breathing. “But if you can’t get up to Thessaloniki today, send Kouros. I need your best man on this one right away.”

Now Andreas paused to draw a breath. “Yianni is in the midst of a delicate, long-term investigation that requires his presence in Athens at the moment, but don’t worry, I’ve the perfect guy for this.”

“Are you sure?”

“Spiros…”

“Fine. Do what you think is best, but do it
now
. I really, really, really need your help on this one. And quick results. Thank you. Bye.”

Spiros hung up before Andreas could say good-bye. Still holding the phone he yelled, “Maggie, come in, please.”

She opened the door as Andreas hung up the phone.

“From the look on your face it must have been a pretty shocking call.”

“I think
amazed
better describes my state of mind at the moment.” Andreas shook his head. “Spiros actually kept his cool and behaved like a sane human being under pressures that usually send him bouncing off the walls.”

“Maybe he’s on medication?”

“God bless the pharmaceutical gods if he is. All I can say is that he literally did not seem himself.”

“Hmm. That is strange. Want me to see what I can find out?”

“In your, quiet, old girl network way, please.”

“I’ll have lunch with his secretary today and let you know what she tells me.”

Andreas cocked his head and looked at her. “Dare I ask what you’ll be telling her in return?”

“Oh, nothing really important. Just about how your office is filled with booze and men wanting to sleep on your couch.”

“That’s nice.”

“Don’t worry about it, she won’t be surprised.”

“How come?”

Maggie turned and walked toward the door. “You were once police chief on Mykonos. Need I say more?”

***

“It’s late, Yianni,” said Andreas peeking his head into Kouros’ office. “How’s it going?”

Kouros sat behind his desk, staring at a computer screen. “If you ever forget how many bad guys are out there, I have something to remind you.” He pointed at the screen. “I’ve spent two hours looking at faces without so much as an inkling of recognition. I know I’ve seen the shooter before, but I just can’t get a fix on him.”

“Maybe you should try working with a police artist?”

Kouros reached for an envelope on his desk and handed it to Andreas. “Already did, first thing after I got back. I figured it might help me set my mind on what I’m looking for.”

Andreas pulled out a digitally rendered composite of a man in his mid-twenties with jet black short hair, a close-trimmed beard, and dark eyes. Andreas stared at the face. “I see what you mean. I think I’ve seen him too.”

“Maybe we think we know him because he looks like some celebrity, a soccer player or television actor?”

“Could be,” said Andreas. “And practically every Greek boy who can grow a beard these days has one. Makes them all look alike.”

He put the composite back on Kouros’ desk. “Pass this around and see if anyone can come up with a possible name to go with the face. But only show it to cops you trust not to talk about it. If this guy’s off the radar and as deadly as he seems, we don’t want to show it to snitches yet. Too risky. All we need is for one of them to decide it’s safer to warn our killer we’re on to him than to cooperate with us, and he’ll vanish.”

Kouros nodded. “I’ll start on that after I finish this. I should be done in a couple more hours.”

“You sound like you don’t think you’ll make a match.”

Kouros shook his head, eyes already fixed back on the screen. “I doubt it. I’ve gone through the photos of everyone vaguely resembling his description up to age thirty-five, and back to the youngest on record at thirteen. No luck.”

“Maybe you’re right, and he just looks like someone we know from the media.” Andreas bit at his lip. “But hard to imagine a killer as cool as this one with no arrest record.”

“He spoke Greek like a native Athenian, but perhaps he never got arrested here?”

Andreas shrugged. “Could be. Though most guys aren’t
that
good. Let’s send the picture on to Europol and see what they come up with.”

“With luck, something before his beard turns white.”

“That’s it. I recognize him.”

Kouros jerked his head around to look at Andreas. “You do?”

“Yes,” said Andreas. “Santa Claus.”

Kouros refocused his eyes on the screen. “I bet in your diet-induced state of diminished capacity you actually thought that was funny. I have a suggestion. When you get home, hug your four-year-old, get down on your knees before him, and beg him to write you better punch lines.”

***

When Andreas got home he found Lila sitting on a couch in the living room reading.

“You’re home early,” she said.

“I missed you.”

“Nice try. What’s up?”

“Where’s Tassaki?”

“My father and mother took him to dinner.”

“To plot against their common enemy, no doubt.”

“If you haven’t noticed, our son needs no assistance from my parents on ways to combat us.”

He dropped onto the couch beside her. “I wasn’t suggesting he was the one who needed the help.” He kissed her on the cheek and looked out the window at the Acropolis.

Lila closed her book and stared at his face as he bit at his lower lip.

“What’s wrong, Andreas?”

He spoke without looking at her. “Maggie had lunch today with Spiros’ secretary. He’d acted strangely when we spoke this morning and so I asked Maggie to find out if something’s wrong.”

“I assume there is.” She reached for his hand.

He took it. “Yes.” He paused. “He’s ill.”

“Oh God, I pray it’s not serious.”

“I’m afraid it is. The bastard’s made my life miserable in virtually every imaginable way, and yet I can’t help but feel sorry for him.”

“I should hope that’s how you’d feel. Otherwise you wouldn’t be the man I married. Besides, as you’ve often said, he’s not a bad or corrupt person, just weak.”

“Uh, let’s not get carried away here. He has a lot of other traits I’m not too fond of, but I agree this is horrible.”

“I must call his wife.”

Andreas turned his head toward her. “No, don’t do that.”

“Why not? She needs support as much as he does at a time like this.”

“But she doesn’t know.”

“
Doesn’t know?”

Andreas nodded. “As hard as it is to believe, he hasn’t told her. His secretary only knows about it because he needed her to cover for him when he went for treatments.”

“This is all too bizarre.”

“What can I say? Apparently he’s afraid his wife will leave him if she knows he’s sick.”

“How could he possibly think that? He must be deranged.”

“A man unexpectedly confronting his mortality can turn paranoid. His wife is the one with the family money that got him his position in the first place. He probably sees his whole world falling apart, and imagines things only getting worse in every possible way.”

“But how could he think his wife wouldn’t notice he’s ill?”

Andreas shrugged. “I wondered the same thing. But who knows what sort of relationship they have?”

“For him to even
think
she wouldn’t notice says it all about that relationship. Can you even imagine how he must feel going through what he is alone, fearing all the while what else might happen should his wife find out?”

Andreas squeezed Lila’s hand. “I’m one lucky guy.”

“Damn straight. And don’t you forget it.” Lila leaned over and kissed him on the lips. “What is the illness?”

“His secretary said she didn’t know.”

“He didn’t tell even her?”

“Maggie sensed she didn’t want to say any more about it, even if she knew.”

“Understandable. She probably felt bad enough for betraying her boss’ confidence.”

Andreas smiled. “You’re pretty smart. That’s precisely what she told Maggie. She also said the only reason she was telling Maggie was so that Maggie would tell me.”

“Tell
you
?”

“Yes. And get this. Because ‘Andreas is the only friend Spiros has.’ The son of a bitch actually thinks of me as his friend.”

“To his way of thinking, you probably are. My guess is you’re the only one he can trust to tell him the truth. Everyone else around him likely has his own agenda.”

“Considering what I’m keeping from him at the moment, that just goes to show you how poor a judge of character he is.”

Lila shook her head. “You’re not convincing me, Kaldis. I know you better than that. You’ll be the one guy in his corner through whatever he’s going through.”

“But I still won’t trust him.”

“I doubt he’d expect you to. What he needs is to be able to trust you.”

“Okay, I get it.”

“Fine. And by the way….”

“Yes?”

“Just so I’m certain you’re not hiding anything from me—”

“What sorts of things?”

Lila stood up and pointed toward their bedroom. “Get in there and strip. I want to make an up close and personal inspection of my biggest investment.”

“Ah, now I know what you’re looking for.” He stood, taking her hand as he did.

“And what, pray tell is that?”

Gently pulling her in the direction of the bedroom, he whispered. “Hard assets.”

She patted his butt. “Welcome to my portfolio.”

***

Spiros sat in the dark on the edge of his bed staring out the window toward the heart of the city. Athens was lovely now. He wished he had more time to enjoy it. His wife certainly knew how to do that.