knew about the girl.
Andreas sensed there was something Manny wasn't telling them. He couldn't put his finger on it, but the man was far too calm for all the pressure he'd been under. Perhaps Tassos knew something about him. He'd ask when they spoke at ten. For now, he needed sleep. She'd fallen asleep slumped over on the front seat. At the rotary where the road to her hotel branched off he went around and around until they were headed back toward Ano Mera.
He was taking her elsewhere.
11
When Tassos finally called Andreas that morning, his voice was grim. He had nothing new on Ilias but had probable IDs on eight victims and none of them was listed on Ilias' tapes. All eight were tall blonds traveling alone from Holland, Scandinavia, or Germany and disappeared during the summer months of different years. Each was last seen or heard from on or near Mykonos.
They'd made the identifications with help from his friend at Interpol, but there'd be no more help from him on the subject of missing women without a formal request — and explanation of what the hell was going on — from the ministry.
'As it was,' Tassos said, 'my friend pressed me for why a homicide detective on an idyllic Greek island was so interested in all eighteen- to thirty-year-old, tall, blond women reported as missing in Europe over the past twenty summers.'
'Not a bad question,' said Andreas.
'He said my answer — 'statistical reasons' — didn't pass 'bullshit' on his snifftest meter, but he'd let it pass because he owed me.' Tassos paused before continuing. 'My favor wasn't big enough for him to keep it to himself if we ask for DNA comparisons of our bone collection against their list of missing blonds. He won't miss what that means — no one could miss what that means.'
Andreas figured 'no one' included tourists, travel agents, parents of young women and everyone else in the world with a TV. Their time was running out.
Sounding slightly less grim now, Tassos said, 'I also spoke to my friend at New Scotland Yard. He should have something for us on Father Paul by early afternoon — if there is anything.'
'Thanks,' Andreas said without enthusiasm.
Forcing a note of lightness into his voice, Tassos said, 'Okay, Chief, I showed you mine, now show me yours.'
Andreas smiled and played along. 'Mine's bigger. I spoke to the taxi driver who picked up Vandrew the morning of the day she disappeared. She was on the road from the beach where Father Paul lives. Said she'd been taken there by Yiorgos Chanas, son of-'
'Panos.' It was an edgy interruption.
Andreas was surprised at his tone. 'Yes.'
Tassos said, 'His whole place is dirty, and I don't mean just the kitchen.'
'What's dirty about it?' Andreas hadn't heard it called that before. Overpriced and filled with aging girl- chasers, yes, but not dirty in the cop sense.
'It starts at the top. I've no problem with older guys chasing young girls, but Panos takes it too far. He and his buddies do the usual big-money flash and brag about their boats and planes — you know, that 'mine's bigger than yours' sort of thing.'
Andreas laughed. Tassos didn't miss a trick.
'But when that doesn't work he takes a nasty turn.' There was an unmistakable anger in Tassos' voice. 'He drops a little date-rape shit — probably Rohypnol — in the girl's drink, and it's on to party time.'
'I can't believe it,' Andreas said, outraged. 'The son of a bitch is… how's he get away with it? Why do you let him?'
Tassos' voice showed frustration, not offense, at the question. 'Never touches locals — or Greeks for that matter. Always ends up the same way, some young — and therefore obviously promiscuous — tourist girl's word against a 'respected Mykonian businessman' and his 'respected witnesses.' Besides, date-rape drugs have a nasty habit of producing a degree of amnesia in their victims. Like an alcohol blackout, but worse. They can't remember events that took place while under its influence. And for those who do, it's usually too late to make a difference.'
'Christ, how many other sinister little secrets are going to pop up in the middle of this investigation?' Andreas knew that his own frustration was beginning to show.
Tassos wasn't reassuring. 'And he has this weird competitive thing with his son over who gets first shot at the girl. Panos had a really fucked-up childhood — his sister died in some almost-too-freak an accident to be an accident, and, if you ask me, he's trying his damnedest to pass his craziness on to his kid.' He sounded like an angry father.
'Great,' Andreas said, 'now we've got two suspects sprouting serial-killer characteristics.'
'And we're just getting started. Any other possibilities?'
'Aside from the son?' asked Andreas.
'I doubt he was killing in diapers. Too young to be our man. If he's involved at all, it's through his father, but it seems unlikely. Remember your list — serial killers are loners.'
Andreas didn't disagree. 'The taxi driver said a South African jeweler — a guy with a shop over by Alpha Bank — was with her the night she disappeared.'
Tassos paused. 'I know the guy but have nothing on him. Respected businessman as far as I know, but I'll see what there is.'
'Then there's the taxi driver, Manny Manoulis.'
Tassos' voice jumped at the name. 'Christ, Andreas, you aren't making this any easier.'
'What are you talking about?' Andreas felt a headache starting above his left eye.
For a few seconds Andreas heard only Tassos' breathing. 'When Manny was a kid he was raped. It was horrible. He was only eight. Some drugged-up degenerates caught him in town late at night over by the Kastro. He was hanging out waiting for his father to close his shop. The rapists never made it to trial, if you know what I mean, but the kid was never the same.'
Andreas' headache took aim at a spot right between his eyes.
'He tried to kill himself three times before puberty,' Tassos continued. 'Finally, some psychiatrist from Athens got through to him and he's been pretty much under control since then. I think he's on medication.'
'What do you mean 'pretty much'?'
'His father was a nice guy — dead now — and considering what happened, we tended to cut the kid some slack.' Tassos sounded defensive.
Andreas knew he wasn't going to like what was coming.
'Every once in a while a female tourist has complained that she thought her taxi driver was masturbating in the front seat.'
'Jeezus, Tassos.'
'We never had to ask who it was.' He paused. 'It's always the same story. The driver would never say anything to any of them or expose himself — certainly he never tries to touch them — and the few who've leaned over the front seat to check him out have seen a lot more dicks than his.' He paused again. 'We've treated it as harmless.' His words hung in the air.
After a pause, Andreas asked, 'How long's this been going on?'
'Hmm. I'd say about twenty years.'
Andreas' head was pounding, and he rubbed his forehead. 'Now we've got three meeting the profile, plus a priest my instincts scream is dirty, a jeweler we know nothing about, and who knows how many more suspects from the date-rape-drug crowd over at Panos'.'
Tassos said nothing. Andreas tried to ease his headache with less serious thoughts, and he burst out laughing.
