7
Lila Vardi’s home was next to the Presidential Palace, the entire, sixth-floor penthouse in one of downtown Athens’ rare old residential buildings. It was perhaps Athens’ most exclusive and breathtaking address, offering unobstructed views of both the Acropolis and its majestic sister hill, Lykavittos.
When Andreas first moved in with Lila he imagined every doorman, elevator operator, and porter thinking, ‘So you’re the superstud cop who knocked up one of Greece’s most sought-after women and now lives the high life.’ The thought kept gnawing at him, and one night he shared it with her.
Five minutes later, after Lila stopped laughing, she said, ‘If that’s what they’re thinking, it’s only because they’re jealous as hell. So don’t worry about it, my “superstud cop.” Just keep earning your title.’ Then she laughed some more.
That’s when he stopped worrying about what others thought. The truth was, as far as Andreas could tell, he was always treated with the same respect as every other resident in the building, and indeed, the staff referred to Lila as his ‘wife’ and him as her ‘husband.’ The press took to doing the same. Lila still was among the most photographed women in Greece, but in deference to his position in the police and potential threats to his safety, rarely did a photo of him appear; when one did, he was identified only as ‘her husband, Andreas.’
It was as if they were married in everyone’s eyes but their own.
‘Hi, honey, I’m home,’ Andreas said in the sing-song comic way everyone seems to use at one time or another.
A voice answered from another room. ‘She’s in the bedroom, Mr Kaldis.’ It was the maid, rather, one of the maids. He still wasn’t used to that part of his new life: someone always there ready to do whatever he needed done. He wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to that.
‘Thank you, Marietta.’
He walked through rooms filled with antiques and paintings, none of which he noticed anymore. They’d become part of his surroundings, like people you see every day and stop noticing because you expect them to be there. Andreas wondered if that’s why no one noticed anything unusual at the monastery: everyone expected to see monks in a monastery, and that made anyone dressed as a monk virtually invisible. What did Vassilis see that the others did not? What spooked him into believing “the time is at hand?” First thing tomorrow Kouros had better chase down those unaccounted-for monks.
He peeked into the bedroom. The drapes were open to a view of a brightly lit Acropolis, and Lila was sitting up in bed. ‘Guess who?’
‘Daddy’s home.’ She patted her belly.
Andreas walked to the bed, leaned over, and kissed her; then kissed her belly.
‘Daddy’s going to take you out to play soon,’ she said.
He rubbed her belly, and winked. ‘Too bad I can’t stop up for a visit.’
Lila smacked his arm. ‘Don’t even joke about sex. Rent movies.’ She smiled.
He kissed her belly again, and then her forehead. ‘See, I made it home before midnight.’
She looked at the clock on her bedside table. ‘Wow, ten-thirty, you’re a man of your word! Do you want something to eat? I couldn’t wait for you.’
‘No problem, I didn’t expect you to. I’ll make something later in the kitchen.’
Lila shook her head and picked up the intercom handset. ‘Marietta, would you please prepare a plate for Mr Kaldis and bring it into our bedroom. Thank you.’ She put it down and said, ‘When are you going to get used to having help around the house?’
Andreas shrugged, kicked off his shoes, and flopped onto the bed beside her. ‘I feel more at home among the monks. Doing things for myself.’
‘Let’s not go there. I said no more talk about sex.’
He laughed. ‘But I really admire someone who finds a life so rewarding and purposeful that he willingly gives up what so much of the rest of the world considers so damn important.’
‘Moderation, I’m afraid, is a thing of the past, even among churchmen. There are very few I know who have given up much of the material world in the pursuit of their faith.’
‘But there still are some who believe “nothing in excess” is the right way to live.’
Lila turned and stared at him. He’d just quoted from one of her lectures. ‘That was carved in Delphi by Athenians 2,500 years ago. It’s Apollo’s Creed.’
‘And a favorite of a scholar I much admire.’ He kissed her on the cheek. ‘But I’m talking about monks, not all churchmen, and one monk in particular.’
‘The murdered one?’
‘Yes. He must have been a rare soul. Amazing how no one had a cross word to say about him.’ Andreas pushed up on his elbows and stared out the window at the Parthenon. ‘Imagine feeling so much a part of something, a part of something so much bigger than yourself that when your time has come you’re totally at peace.’ He smiled and took her hand. ‘I guess it’s sort of how I feel at this moment.’
Andreas stared at her hand and wrapped his fingers around hers. ‘He died at peace… embracing his past… clutching his cross.’ He let the thought drift off.
Lila spread her arms. ‘Come here with…’ she looked down at her belly ‘… us.’
Andreas smiled and lay down next to her. Lila rested her head against his chest. Neither said a word.
Andreas drifted off into that state just before sleep when the senses recede and thoughts become meditative. He pictured the cross in the monk’s hand. The cross of his grandfather, the cross with which he might well have shared virtually every day of his life. Andreas’ eyes popped open. He felt as if a silent bomb had gone off in the room.
‘ His cross,’ Andreas cried out and jumped out of the bed, almost sending Lila tumbling off onto the floor. ‘It wasn’t his cross he was holding when he died. His cross, the one he treasured from his grandfather, was left dangling openly around his neck, free for anyone to take. The one he chose to grip, to guard when he knew he was dying, was a cheap, ten euro piece of junk he’d bought only hours before! How could it possibly have meant so much to him that his last act on earth was to protect it?’
Andreas paced back and forth in front of the window. Lila said nothing, just watched him.
‘He didn’t die accepting the end of his life. He died sending a message. But what message?’ He turned to Lila, ‘I’ve got to get back to Patmos, right away.’
‘“Right away?”’
He didn’t miss the disappointment in her voice. Andreas drew in and let out a breath. ‘“Right away,” as in “first thing tomorrow morning.”’ He sat next to her on the bed, took her hand, and kissed it. ‘Tonight I’m spending with my baby.’ He patted her belly. ‘Both my babies.’
Tears started forming in Lila’s eyes. She dabbed at them with her fingertips. ‘Sorry, pregnant women get this way at times.’
‘No need to say more.’ A knock at the door signaled it was time for dinner with his family. ‘I belong here.’ He doubted any soul would disagree, certainly none like Vassilis.
Patmos was a place of rich beauty, deep conviction, and pious tradition. It also was an island, and island people were different from mainland folk. Separated from the rest of the world, they grew up facing dangers without expecting help from the outside. Instead, they relied upon each other and learned to honor their neighbors’ families by attending their baptisms, weddings, and funerals. During Easter Week there would be no baptisms or weddings, but funerals were different. They were prohibited only on Good Friday.
Vassilis was not from Patmos and had no surviving family to honor him, but from the crowd overflowing his funeral that morning you’d think Kalogeros Vassilis was the father of each soul on the island. Virtually every Patmian-owned business closed for the funeral. It was an unimaginable honor, paid by a business-savvy people during one of their busiest weeks of the year.
Andreas arrived in Skala while the funeral was underway in Chora. That made it hard for him to shop for what he wanted. But, finally, he found it in a store run by an Athenian. From there he went directly to the police station. No one was expecting him and that was how he wanted it. Two young cops seemed to be the only people in the place. Everyone else must be at the funeral, he thought.
