would call that very bad manners.' His temper was showing, but he no longer cared. 'Come to think of it, you probably were raised differently. I guess more along the lines of ancient Athenian traditions, where courtesy was due just to equals, and the servant-class indulged only when absolutely necessary. Perhaps with some simple benevolent gesture, like a coffee and toast with the master.' He stood up. 'No need to show me out.'
She locked eyes with him. Slowly, she raised her right hand up toward his face. It was clenched in a fist. He expected her to flash an open palm, the Greek gesture for something a lot worse than 'asshole.' Instead, she held her fist in the air, brought the tips of her forefinger and thumb together, then slightly separated them.
'Don't you think you've overreacted just a teeny-tiny bit?' She flicked her fingers rapidly open and shut.
He watched her fingers for a moment, and dropped back down onto the couch across from her.
'Let's start over again,' she said. 'I apologize. I wasn't suggesting you're dishonest. I was more angry at the thought that someone had ordered you to stop doing what you knew in your heart was right.'
He swallowed. 'I'm sorry too. I get that way when I think people are talking down to me. It comes from a bad experience my father had.' He'd opened up the subject; he might as well finish it. 'A minister level member of government from the supposed 'upper-class' set up my father — the trusting cop — to take the fall for bribes that went to the minister.'
'I can't believe he got away with it.'
Andreas shrugged. 'My father died soon after the accusations hit the newspapers. The story died with him.'
'Oh. Sorry.'
He appreciated that she didn't ask for more details, like the tire blowout a year later that sent that minister's car plunging off a mountain road and him to a nasty, officially ruled accidental death. 'Anyway, about this banishment theory, yes, I agree it's interesting.'
'So, why aren't you doing something about it?'
He smiled. 'Something tells me you're this way with everyone, and so I shouldn't take offense.'
She blushed. 'Yes, I guess I am.'
'That's okay, it's refreshing.' Why did I say that? 'But to answer your question, I simply don't have the time right now to pursue it. Perhaps later.'
She shook her head. 'You'll never have time. There always will be something else.'
He nodded. 'You might be right, but even if I had the time, I have no leads to follow. All the families with a member who might have been murdered won't talk to police and live outside of Greece. And even if I knew any of the other families that supposedly left after receiving a warning, they're also outside of Greece. I don't even know where the Kostopoulos family is. Besides, I have no jurisdiction over any of them and no way to get them to cooperate.'
She smiled. 'But I do.'
He looked surprised. 'What are you talking about?'
'The world is very small at the top. Everyone up there knows everyone else, or someone who does.'
Andreas stared at her.
'What are you thinking?' she asked.
'Why are you offering to help? That's what I'm thinking. Don't misunderstand me, I appreciate the offer, but why would you, someone with all this,' he waved his hands at things around the room, 'and part of the 'small world at the top,' want to get involved?'
She stared back. 'You mean why should I want to bring down my own kind?'
He paused. 'Yes.'
She nodded. 'Fair question. Because the kind you're talking about is not 'my kind.' Sure, I have,' she waved her hands, 'all this, but the fact I was born and raised rich and probably do things you think silly and spoiled doesn't mean I'm a bad person.' She smiled. 'Any more than your being a cop means you're corrupt.'
He laughed.
She stared at a photograph of her husband. 'My family was socially prominent well before the 1900s. My husband's family never was part of that crowd and, in fact, never achieved any sort of prominence, financial or otherwise, until the 1980s. According to some in Athenian society, like the ones I'm sure you're looking for, it was a mortal sin for us to have married. How dare I elevate one of them to our level.' She stared straight at Andreas. 'They do not represent my way of thinking, or my Athens.'
Andreas nodded. He understood why she'd kept his name. In her own way, Lila Vardi was one in-your-face tough cookie.
Lila waved a finger at him. 'If you promise not to give me any more of that 'you're an elitist,' she paused as if deciding on the right word, 'bullshit, I'll try to find out what I can.'
He smiled. 'Nice language.'
'I wanted to use a word you'd understand.'
He laughed again. 'May I have that coffee now, please.' He studied her hands as she picked up a white porcelain pitcher and poured the coffee into a matching cup. 'But these… let's call them banished… people aren't part of your 'top of the world crowd.' So, what makes you think you can get them to cooperate, assuming you can find them?'
She handed him the coffee. 'Well, first of all, I don't consider myself part of that crowd, but I am friends with some, and know many others who are. The banished people, as you say, certainly are not part of that crowd, but from what I know of the families who did move away, they were very socially conscious.'
'Meaning?'
'They knew who the important people were in society and loved to be even a tangential part of that crowd.'
'Don't you think their experiences here soured any interest in further social climbing?'
'To some extent sure, but I tend to think not completely. From what I understand, these people kept their wealth, at least part of it, and had children to educate. They weren't likely to simply go off and hibernate in some cave until the day they all died.'
He took a sip of coffee. 'You might be right. One family is in Paris, and the two others we know of are in Switzerland. Plus, wherever the Kostopoulos family ends up.'
'A lot more than three families have left suddenly. I have no way of knowing if any of them were banished but, if they were, I'd bet their children are in the finest, and most secure, private schools. Where some of their classmates, maybe even friends, are likely part of families-'
'At the top of the world.'
She smiled. 'Exactly.'
He took another sip of coffee, then put the cup down on the table between them. 'You know this could be dangerous?'
'It will come up as just fishing for idle gossip. Everyone does it all the time in Athens.'
'Now you're beginning to worry me. If people are being banished, the ones most likely behind it are from the very pond you're about to fish in. If they find out you're snooping around… do I have to tell you what's likely to happen?'
She drew in and let out a breath. 'No, you don't. I guess I'm being naive.'
'What you're being is very helpful. I just don't want you doing something that might get you hurt.'
She blushed. Perhaps she sensed he wanted to add something more.
'Just promise me you won't do anything without clearing it with me first.'
'Do you promise to return my calls?'
'Promise.' He smiled.
She looked at her watch. 'Oh, my god, I was supposed to be at the museum fifteen minutes ago.'
'Come on, I'll give you a ride. Even use the siren and the lights.'
'As long as you don't make me sit in the back. I can imagine the field day the paparazzi would have with that picture.'
Andreas imagined a headline: Socialite Held by Police. On the way to the museum they talked about nothing important… to the case. She talked about her husband, how they met while she was at college in Boston, and how his death affected her. Andreas talked about how tough it was losing his father when he was eight, and growing up watching his mother endure all the rumors. Lila spoke of how difficult it was being a single woman in Athens 'even
