— including Helen Vandrew's. Five bodies were found at Saint Fanourios. No bodies were found at Saint Barbara, Saint Nicholas, Saint Phillipos, or Saint Spyridon.'
Visibly shaken, the mayor tried sounding imperious. 'You're the professionals. You should know what to do. Do you have a suspect?' It wasn't working. It was obvious to everyone in the room that his fate was in the hands of the men he'd just threatened with destruction.
Andreas smiled. 'Yes.'
The mayor looked like he was about to say 'Who?' but he stopped. 'Do you have any proof tying your suspect to any of the other killings?'
'Not as yet.'
The mayor put his head down and ran his hands through his hair. 'Do what you have to do, but I don't think he's your man.' He'd abandoned all pretext of not knowing his cousin was who they had in mind. 'I've known him all my life. I know how badly beaten he was by his father — the drunken bastard — and when he drowned no one blamed Ilias, but I can't imagine him being involved in… in this.'
Did I just hear him say his cousin might have killed his father for abusing him? Andreas thought. Damn, we're checking one box after another on this guy's list of major, serial killer-traits — male, intelligent, a voyeur, abused, drunken father — and we're just getting started!
'Anything else unusual about your cousin's behavior or background?'
The mayor took in and let out a deep breath. He now was being interrogated by the chief of police. He raised no objection. 'You mean other than the tapes?'
Andreas nodded.
'I don't know…' The mayor's voice drifted off. He sounded lost, not in control. 'What are we going to do?'
'Not much we can do, Mihali, we have to tell Athens,' said Tassos.
The mayor nodded and clasped his hands together. 'I have a suggestion.' He seemed to be pleading more than suggesting. 'This is a disaster for Mykonos. We all know that.'
The two policemen nodded.
'It would be better if when we announced the terrible news we also announced the capture of the killer.' He was looking at the floor as he abandoned his cousin.
'I don't know how we can do that. We don't have proof yet,' said Andreas.
'I'll give you whatever help you need. If we have no killer, we have no tourists and we have no island. It's as simple as that.'
'Mr Mayor-'
'Call me Mihali, Andreas.' He really was politicking now.
Andreas nodded. 'Mihali, I don't see how we can keep this quiet until we find the killer. It puts too many people in danger.'
'But I thought you said it's one victim a year and he's already murdered once this year.'
Tassos answered. 'It just looks that way, but we can't be sure and we've only been to eight churches.'
The mayor put his head down again. 'I understand, but is anyone missing who meets the description of his victims?'
Andreas said, 'Not that we know of, but that doesn't mean much. You know how that sort of thing goes unreported.' Andreas diplomatically did not add 'because of your insistence on keeping such things unreported.'
Again the mayor nodded. 'What if we wait a few days and you spend the time looking into every shadow of Ilias' past, and if he turns out to be the one, well, so be it.'
Andreas looked at Tassos. It would be impossible to do that sort of investigation with media running all over the island, and if they kept a tight rein on Ilias, there'd be no risk to anyone else. Perhaps the mayor's suggestion wasn't so bad. Unless, of course, the killer wasn't his cousin — but, then again, the mayor was correct in saying the killer seemed to get his urges only once a year. The risk of a few days might well be worth it.
As if reading Andreas' mind, Tassos said, 'Okay, Mihali, three days, but you must give us your complete co operation-'
The mayor cut him off. 'Done.'
Tassos smiled, 'And-'
'I was afraid of that.' The mayor grinned.
'Sign a letter on your official stationery acknowledging what we've told you and assuming full responsibility for directing us to keep that information from Athens until we've completed our investigation.'
It was two political masters at work. All three of them knew the letter would mean nothing to Athens. Tassos and Andreas were toast if this deal ever got out. All it did was keep the mayor from throwing them to the wolves. He didn't even attempt to argue. 'Done.'
They told the mayor to tell no one — something he'd no doubt figured out for himself — and although they wouldn't be arresting his cousin just yet, they'd be closely watching his every move. Mihali assured them he'd handle any complaints of police harassment from Ilias.
When Mihali stood up to leave, he told them not to get up. He walked over and shook Andreas' hand. 'Sorry about all that before, Chief. Sometimes my head gets a little too big for my own good.'
Andreas nodded. 'Thanks. I appreciate that.'
He also apologized to Tassos. No wonder this guy's stayed in office so long, thought Andreas. He knows when to cut and run — and change horses in midstream.
After the mayor left, Tassos smiled and said, 'I see you're pretty good at taking care of yourself with political types.'
Andreas nodded.
Tassos lightly smacked the arms of his chair. 'So, where do we go from here?'
'Why are you asking me?' said Andreas, looking puzzled.
'Because, I'm hoping you'll say 'Out to eat.' I'm starved.'
Andreas smiled and with a come-along wave of his hand got up and said, 'Good idea. Let's go to town for some dinner among those we've sworn to serve and protect.' Annika wondered why her evening seemed headed toward ending at a gay bar in Little Venice. Sunset at the harbor had started out nicely, but when the wind picked up, and she went looking for a more sheltered spot, Little Venice was the natural choice, as it offered perfect sunset views. She didn't want to go to one of its popular straight bars and run into someone she knew — and the absolute certainty of being hassled. Then again, the wrong sort of gay place was likely to get her hassled by suitors of another persuasion.
She peeked inside a bar called Montmartre. It had an English pub-style front room and a larger, table-filled, back room lined with rear windows opening onto the sea. The place seemed cozy and not that busy. The two guys behind the bar — one blond, one dark — were talking with a group of male customers and one very large woman. The dark one was telling a story in Greek and looking very serious. As Annika waited for him to finish, she looked around at the artwork on the walls. From the scenes she could tell it was local but way better than the stuff at her hotel. She liked the feel of the place and asked for a table overlooking the sea. The blond smiled and told her in English to pick any one she wanted. It seemed the perfect, unthreatening place to spend an hour finishing the contemplation she'd begun at the harbor.
Before her hour had passed the place started filling up, with gay men and older, straight couples. She'd been staring out the window nursing her wine and hadn't noticed the piano tucked away in a corner by the front room until someone started to play. He was good, very good. The place kept filling up. The table she'd had so long to herself she now shared with six others. She didn't mind. They all seemed to be there for the music. Just when Annika thought the place couldn't get busier, the very large woman she'd seen earlier walked into the room and began to sing.
She was terrific. Before long it was standing room only in the front room. At a break, Annika ran to the toilet just past the bar — after making sure her table mates saved her seat. She was having the best night she could imagine and was working her way back to her table through the bar crowd when she felt a tap on her shoulder.
'So, we meet again, Annika,' a voice said in English. One of the advantages of being police chief was that you didn't have to park in the public lot over by the ferry landing, a pleasant but ten-minute walk from the main part of
