guy, just an ass-kisser forever afraid of losing status in the eyes of his social crowd. In other words, he did as he was told to keep his job. But, to be fair, in this instance it was pretty clear to Andreas that it wouldn’t matter if a huge pair of steel arhidia magically appeared. Someone above him would cut them off for sure. Andreas said goodbye and hung up.
‘It’s out of our hands.’ That was the phrase the minister used. Poor bastard doesn’t even realize the irony of what he’d said. It’s not ‘out of our hands.’ It is, as Vassilis wrote in the two-line note he carried to his death: Prepare, for the time is in their hands.
16
Greece’s Cycladic Aegean island of Mykonos was only twenty-five minutes by plane from Athens. About one and one half times the size of Manhattan, Mykonos had more than three times the population of Patmos and the reputation for an in-season, 24/7 party lifestyle unmatched in the world. In other words, Mykonos was about the last place you’d go to find a monk. Which was exactly why Kouros chose to spend his unexpected Easter holiday there. He still had buddies on the island from his rookie cop days, and that meant places to stay for free.
In winter Mykonos was a sleepy island village with virtually no tourists, no business, few open bars, fewer restaurants, and no clubs. But come Easter Week everything changed. The old town came to life, like the red and yellow springtime poppies bursting out all over Mykonos hillsides. It seemed that every world-class partier in the know and every Greek who could find a place to stay was on Mykonos from Thursday through Monday of Easter Week. But this taste of the coming mid-summer craziness was short lived. If you didn’t catch the action that weekend come back in June, because the island was back in hibernation come Tuesday.
It was a particularly warm weekend for April and that meant time on the beach; maybe not in the water quite yet, but definitely on the beach. Kouros was face down on a towel, thinking of nothing but the naked bodies lying not too far away when he heard his phone.
‘Let me guess, it’s my dream come true.’
‘I sure as hell hope not for your sake.’
‘What’s up, Chief?’
‘Honestly, nothing. I mean nothing we can do anything about. I’m just calling because you’re the only one I can bitch to.’
‘I guess that means Maggie won’t listen.’
‘Her exact words were, “I told you so.”’
‘Oh boy.’
‘Let me share with you my most recent example of why police work is so fulfilling.’
‘Uh, Chief, are you sure you want to do this over a cell phone?’
‘I think the appropriate line is found in a famous American movie. “Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn.”’
‘Thank you too, dear, but still, don’t you think-’
‘Yianni, unless we’re going back to the days of runners carrying messages from lips to ears — and that Marathon sucker Pheidippides died anyway — we’ll just have to risk it at times. Besides, if what I’m about to tell you gets out, it won’t matter anyway. I’ve been told no one will pursue it.’
Kouros turned his head away from the naked bodies. He concentrated on the rocky hills, bright blue sky, and his chief’s anger. By the time Andreas finished, Kouros was sitting up, shaking his fist, and yelling, ‘Miserable bastards, I’d like to show them what I’d do to that cocksucker Zacharias if he were in my hands.’
Kouros watched a nearby couple grab their clothes and hurry away from him. ‘I understand why you’re angry, Chief, but what can we do about it?’
‘Wish I knew. Well, think about it, and if anything comes to you let me know.’
‘Why don’t you run it past our friend?’ Kouros paused. ‘Mr T.’
‘Mr T?’
Kouros heard a laugh.
‘I get it. I see we’re back to Marathon-style communication. Okay, will do. Enjoy the rest of your holiday. Bye.’
Kouros let out a deep breath and looked around. The sun was almost down. He’d better get back to the apartment and take a nap. Tonight would be a late one. He intended to get plastered. Miserable bureaucrats, they’re everywhere.
‘You just missed your mother.’ Lila was sitting next to the window in her study looking out toward the Acropolis.
Andreas stood in the doorway, staring at her: a Madonna at the window, framed in an illuminated Parthenon against a jet-black sky. ‘How is she?’ Andreas blew her a kiss.
She did not turn. ‘Still as lovely a person as I’ve ever known.’
‘She feels the same about you.’
‘I know.’ She looked at him. ‘She’s all excited about the baby.’ He nodded. ‘How’s the little bugger doing?’
Lila stroked her belly. ‘Fine.’ She looked back out the window.
Andreas grabbed a chair, pulled it up next to her, and sat down. He reached for her hand. She let him take it. ‘Everything okay?’
‘Perfect. Just perfect.’
In Andreas’ experience with women, that generally meant just the opposite. ‘Are you nervous?’
‘No.’
‘Sad?’
Lila gestured no.
‘Then what is it, kukla? I know something is bothering you.’
She turned her eyes toward him; tears were welling up. ‘Disappointed.’
He felt the knife.
‘Why don’t you love me enough to want to marry me?’ Her lower lip was quivering.
He felt the twist. He shook his head. ‘Not now, please. This isn’t the time. You’re not thinking clearly.’
‘I’m not thinking clearly? Andreas Kaldis, even your mother knows how fucked-up your thinking is on this.’
That was not the sort of language he was used to hearing from Lila. And to have his mother brought into this ‘You just don’t get it, do you?’
‘Maybe I’m just too hung up on this Patmos monk’s murder.’
Lila shook her head violently. ‘No, no, no. There will always be something, some reason, some excuse to fall back on. You, my love, are afraid. Purely and simply afraid.’
‘Of what?’
‘You tell me.’
Andreas paused. ‘Okay.’ He paused again. ‘We’ve too little in common. You know that. It could never work out. You’d be miserable if you had to live your life with me as your husband.’
Lila smiled. ‘Great, you finally said it.’
‘That makes you happy?’
She squeezed his hand. ‘Yes, because until you are willing to talk about it, we can’t work it out.’
‘We can’t “work it out.” It is what it is.’
‘No, this is the only thing that “is what it is.”’ Lila pointed to her belly. ‘The rest is illusion.’
‘Be realistic. Our backgrounds, everything about us is different. What kind of a life could we have together? It would frustrate you to no end.’
Lila smiled again. ‘Owning things, attending gala events, receiving honors, or solving big cases is not life. Those are just landmarks along the way. A life is made up of everyday, simple moments. Like making love in the morning in a bed filled with crumbs from your sloppy toast-eating habits, laughing together at the pigeons in the park who pounced on your souvlaki after you put it down to tie my shoelace when I couldn’t bend over.’ She paused.
