'Sorry, hon, but it's really important.'
'Great. You'll have to wait another minute. Since you woke me up, now I have to pee.'
He was the frankest man she'd ever known, perhaps because he was gay. She stared at the drapes beyond the foot of her bed. They masked the steel gates that rolled down every night, over virtually every window, in virtually every home, in every wealthy Athenian neighborhood.
'So, what's so important, kukla?' He called all of his customers by the Greek word for doll.
She started off saying what everyone in Athens but Christos knew wasn't true. 'I know you can keep a secret-'
'Of course, absolutely.' His tone suggested indignation that the statement even had to be made.
'Hon, I have a slight indiscretion to share with you.' She knew that would have him holding his breath for a juicy bit of gossip. 'I don't know who else to turn to for help.' She held back from sobbing. No need to gild the lily.
'Kukla, kukla, your Christos is always here for you. How can I help?'
She let out a long breath. 'Someone asked if I could arrange for them to borrow a rare piece from the museum. They were putting on a very private, ambassador-level dinner party and wanted to use it as the centerpiece. I knew the museum would never agree, but they promised a huge contribution and, well… being who they were… it wasn't as if they were going to run off with it.'
'Of course not.' His voice sounded thoroughly supportive. 'So, I made some private arrangements.' Her emphasis was meant to mean she took the piece without asking permission.
'Yes, yes, I understand. Of course you did. What choice did you have?'
Now she sobbed. 'I don't know what to do. I'm in such trouble.'
'What happened? What can I do to help my kukla?'
She sniffled. 'Ahh, such a mess, and I really can't even blame the people. They have so much going on in their lives right now that I'm sure they've completely forgotten about returning it.'
'Of course, I'm sure. Such people would never betray your trust.'
She could tell he was dying to hear the name.
'I know, but I can't find them.'
'What?'
'I can't find them, they're gone. They moved away in the middle of the night!'
'I can't believe it. But there must be someone you can speak to. A maid or a lawyer, someone?'
'Yes, of course, but how can I ever tell any of them of my… uhh… indiscretion. How?'
He paused. 'I see. But how can I help you find them?'
'Darling, you underestimate yourself. You are a legend.'
His voice showed that he agreed. 'Well, thank you, kukla, but still, how can I help?'
'You are the finest hair colorist in Athens. There is no woman alive who would leave her colorist without at least trying to get her formula to take with her.'
'Many have tried.'
She guessed he was smirking. 'So, I'm praying that the wife is your client, or you know who she sees and somehow can find her for me.'
Silence.
'Christos, is something wrong?'
'No, not at all. I'm just waiting for you to tell me her name.'
She laughed. 'You can tell how distraught I am. How silly, it's Ginny Kostopoulos.'
'Ouch.'
'Why 'ouch'?'
'She's not my client. And she uses the biggest dickhead in Athens. We don't speak.'
Lila knew whom he meant. Christos was right; he'd never cooperate with her either. 'Oh.' Her voice was down.
'But don't worry, kukla. All's not lost.'
'What do you mean?'
'There's still Zanni. He's been my client for years.'
She perked back up again. 'No wonder he looks so good.'
'I wouldn't go that far, except of course for his hair.' They both laughed.
'Do you think you could find out where his family is?' She held her breath.
'I don't know. He doesn't seem in the mood to talk about his family and I certainly didn't ask.'
'You spoke to him? I mean since his son's death?'
'Kukla, I'm his hairstylist. Of course we talk; I call him all the time. He says I'm the only one who still makes him laugh.'
Lila laughed. 'I can imagine.'
'Where are they?' She held her breath.
'I don't know where they are, just Zanni. He's alone in his summerhouse. On Mykonos. I'll be more than happy to call him about the piece.'
She was about to say what piece when she realized her cover story had come home to roost. 'Oh, god, no. Please don't do that. There's already enough trouble in that family. I really should speak just to Ginny. I don't think her husband knows of our arrangement and I don't want to start another problem. If you could find out where she is that would be the best way to approach it.' She spoke so quickly she wasn't sure he heard it all.
He didn't seem surprised. 'Okay, if that's how you want it. As long as I was able to help my kukla. Anything else, or may I go back to sleep now?' He sounded amused, not angry.
As flighty as he might seem to some, Christos was as skilled as any high-society psychiatrist at feigning concern over the most trivial, insignificant matters that his clients chose to elevate to levels of earth-shattering import. She hoped he'd lump this call into that category and not regard it as worthy of repeating.
They said good night, she hung up the phone, and fell back on her pillow. She turned and looked at the clock. Too early to call Andreas. She stared at the ceiling. What the hell is Zanni Kostopoulos doing alone in Mykonos? Andreas found a pile of new gossip magazines on his desk. The cover note read, 'Just in case you're interested. Maggie.' She'd earmarked specific pages and each had one thing in common: a photograph of Lila Vardi. From what he could tell, there wasn't a significant social event in Athens she missed. He stared at the photographs.
The phone rang. 'Andreas Kaldis here.'
'Hi, it's Lila.'
'My god, I was just looking at your photograph in Hello.' He wished he hadn't said that.
'Flock, touch red.'
He hadn't heard that superstitious playground phrase since childhood. 'Yes, flock.' He smiled and touched a red miniature soccer ball on his desk.
'I hoped you were in early. I've been up for hours dying to tell you what I found out.'
Andreas looked through the magazines at pictures of Lila as she explained how she came up with the idea of calling Christos, and started through them again when she began her word-for-word recounting of their conversation. There she was, sounding like an excited schoolgirl, once more. But she didn't look much like a schoolgirl in the photographs. He stopped looking and interrupted her when she got to the part about where to find Zanni Kostopoulos.
'Where is he?'
'Mykonos.'
'Mykonos?' He couldn't believe it. It made no sense. Why flee Athens to Mykonos? There's no place to hide there. Well, almost none. 'Why would he go there?'
'I've been asking myself the same question all night. As soon as the press gets a whiff of his presence, it will be all over the news. Guaranteed. Christos says he's hiding out in his house, but if Christos knows… Kostopoulos can't be planning on keeping it quiet for very long.'
Andreas drummed his fingers on the table. 'Maybe he intends to bury the boy there?'
'Without the mother? I don't think so.' She paused. 'Maybe he had a fight with his wife and wants to be alone?'
He shook his head at the phone. 'If we're right about the banishment thing, Greece is the last place in the
