Murder in Mykonos

17

Ninety minutes after his meeting with Andreas and Tassos, the mayor met Andreas at a locals' taverna just off the main square in Ano Mera. Two dozen volunteers were inside. Andreas was impressed by how quickly he'd been able to get so many men to search the mines — and after midnight, no less. Then again, he'd been mayor for almost twenty years, and no one wanted to be on his bad side. Most appeared to be in their early forties, some younger, a few older. Pappas looked like the oldest. Andreas smiled to himself — apparently even the self-described, most important man on the island danced when the mayor played the tune.

The mayor spoke first, and formally. 'My thanks to all of you for coming on such short notice in this, the middle of our busiest season, but as I told each of you, it is a matter of life and death. We must find a young woman lost in one of the mines.' A few of the men exchanged glances. Pappas didn't blink.

The mayor came up with that cover story at Andreas' office, and even though none of them gave it much chance of flying, they hoped whatever rumors it spawned wouldn't be as catastrophic as the truth. There was a complication though — a very serious one. Volunteers were being asked to help find a ruthless, brutal killer. They had to be warned of the danger in a way that wouldn't blow the whole story wide open. The mayor assured them he'd handle it.

'My friends, we don't know if the missing woman is alone or with someone, went willingly or against her will. But we think she's somewhere in the mines, places you know better than anyone on our island. Just be careful. Prepare for the worst and pray for the best.'

Andreas couldn't believe what he was hearing. The mayor planned on sending these men off to look for a serial killer in the dark — literally and figuratively. Where was the warning he promised?

'What do you mean "prepare for the worst"?' It was Pappas.

Andreas assumed the mayor was agitated by the question, but he didn't show it.

'I think whenever you go in search of someone who might have been taken against her will — and I emphasize might — you should be alert to the possibility that someone may be prepared to do the rescuer harm.'

'You mean "harm" like what happened to that girl up at the church?' Pappas turned to face Andreas, as if directing the question at him.

That had to piss off the mayor, thought Andreas, but still Mihali didn't show it — just hurried to answer before Andreas could speak. 'Let's hope not. I repeat, I don't know what happened to her, but I want all of you to be careful.'

Andreas noticed he didn't offer his volunteers the opportunity of backing out. Perhaps that's why he wasn't agitated — he knew his audience had no choice.

No one else had a question, and the mayor turned the meeting over to Andreas to organize the search. Andreas described the missing woman and the area to be searched, which included mine entrances by the artist's home and Panos' farm. He said he'd leave it to the men in the room who knew the mines how best to conduct the search, but he insisted they work in groups of no fewer than three and that at least one in each group carry a firearm.

No one said a word. Although military service was mandatory for all Greek men and each probably had several guns at home, for the police chief to insist on guns meant this had to be far more serious than the mayor was letting on.

It was Pappas who said what everyone had to be thinking. 'Is that to prepare for the worst?' His tone was sarcastic but he didn't wait for an answer or dwell on his point. Instead, he threw up his hands in a sign of disgust and turned to face the men. 'Okay, let's set this up so we're not running into each other inside — because some of you are such lousy hunters you'll be shooting at shadows.' That got them snickering. He'd lightened the mood and no one seemed to object to his taking charge — it was almost as if it had been planned that way.

Pappas suggested they divide the area into five sections with groups of four assigned to each section. He and the remaining men — the 'old-timers' he called them — would man a command center out of his Jeep on the hillside adjacent to Panos' property. No one offered a better idea, but Andreas insisted that each search group report back at least once every hour, and any that didn't would have police dispatched to their last reported location ASAP.

Andreas noticed the mayor move his head to catch Pappas' eye, and immediately Pappas said, 'Okay guys, let's get to work.' The men filed out with nervous, resigned looks on their faces, expressions you'd expect to see on men asked to be pallbearers at the funeral of a stranger.

Pappas stopped as he passed Andreas. 'How dangerous do you really think it's going to be?'

Andreas put his head down so as not to look him in the eyes. 'Don't really know.' Then he lifted his head and looked straight at him. 'But I'd tell them to be careful, real careful.'

Pappas nodded. 'Thanks,' he said, and left.

'What do you think?' the mayor said to Andreas.

'They know she's not in there on holiday.' Andreas sounded annoyed.

'They probably think she was kidnapped by the same one who killed the Vandrew woman.' Mihali's voice was calm.

Andreas was surprised. 'That doesn't bother you?'

He nodded no. 'Not really. Everyone knows a woman was murdered and the killer's still out there. Once they get started, they'll be like farmers chasing a fox with a chicken in its mouth. They won't be thinking about all the other chickens killed by the fox, just the one in its mouth.'

'Yeah, and what happens if they catch the fox?'

He patted Andreas' arm and smiled. 'We should only be so lucky. If it's okay with you, I have to get back to town.'

Andreas didn't want to let the subject drop but could tell the mayor was in 'please the electorate' mode. He'd seen it in a lot of politicians. It meant no straight answers.

'Sure, I've got to leave for the mines anyway. I'll let you know if something turns up,' Andreas said, although he was certain the mayor would get his news straight from his volunteers, probably before he did.

As Andreas walked toward the door the mayor yelled out in a grandly cheery voice, 'Happy hunting, Chief.'

Andreas wondered what the hell was going through that man's mind that made him so happy in the middle of this nightmare. She hadn't moved from where he'd left her, under the light, flat on her back. He dropped a small beach bag on the floor beside her and stared at her face. He'd seen enough young women die slowly to tell she was still alive. He knelt down and gently lifted her injured hand. Cradling it in his left hand, he gently stroked it with his right. His eyes studied her body for movement, and when he looked at her face his own took on the gaze of a kindly friar. He stared with what seemed only benevolent interest for several seconds before giving her wrist a sudden, violent twist. She winced only slightly.

He placed the injured hand over her right breast, then reached down for her right hand and drew it across her body to rest on her left breast. Then, he sat back on his haunches and reached into the bag for what he needed next, confident the pain he was about to inflict would not wake her.

Annika was finding peace. The light was bright silver flecked with gold, the air bursting with fresh scents of springtime and mellow sounds of distant songbirds as smiling children in soft white muslin danced around her. They called her 'sister' and asked her to join them. From the circle of dancers, a little boy reached out for her hand. She followed him with her eyes but did not reach back. Two young girls with yellow flowers in their hair stepped forward and offered her a soft, white muslin gown. Looking down, she realized she was as naked as the day she came into the world. She looked up and stared into the light. Was this what she wanted to do? Was it time to join her brothers and sisters? Annika was so very tired, and they offered her peace.

She was about to accept the gown when her head jerked violently forward. The children must be pulling at her hair. It hurt. She felt the tugging and touching move along her body to places only her lover had been. These were not children, certainly not any she wanted to play with for eternity. She pushed the gown away and waited for the touching to end.

When it stopped there were no more children or songbirds. Only silence and a blinding light. She was no longer in a place of peace. Had she made a mistake not going with the children? Perhaps they would come back for her. She prayed they would. She'd long ago lost track of time, and now all hope of rescue was gone. She felt abandoned. All she wanted was to find that place of peace.

She felt someone lift her hand. The touch was gentle and comforting. It must be one of the children, returned to show her the way. Now she would take the hand; it was time to go.

Her mind began drifting away from her body. The separation was almost complete when a bolt of pain seared through her left wrist. Although she knew the pain was real, her mind was too detached to trigger a reaction in her body. She knew, too, that whoever did this was not some gentle soul leading her to peace. She grew angry at the pain; it ignited her competitive fire and she longed to fight for control of her body. Her challenge was taken up almost at once.

The new pain didn't seem much at first. It built up slowly. Something was being forced deep within her. Her legs had been pulled apart but it was not a man inside her. It was something else trying to fill her womb. When the real pain came, it was in long bursts of fire. Just when she'd get used to one, another would thrust into her. They seemed to have no end. She wondered if this was the pain of childbirth. In a flash of thought she knew this was the pain of her own rebirth, pain she must endure to survive. She would not let it beat her. She would not let him beat her.

Now 'him' filled her mind. Him! Him! Annika's conscious mind was returning. She remembered where she was — and her tormentor.

Then a different pain began, in a different place. She felt a burning tear as something pushed into her from behind. Again it wasn't a man — but she knew it was him doing this to her and that was all she needed to bear the pain. If she could regain control of her body, she'd fight him to the death; but she couldn't even open her eyes. Only her mind was working.

Now she felt pain below her eyes. It was being forced into her nose. She couldn't breathe. She was suffocating and face-to-face with the instinctive panic that comes with it. Somehow she must get her mouth to open. It was her only chance for breath. She steeled her will for the seconds left and focused her mind on a single word: breathe. He was so busy forcing the last of the tampons up through her nostrils that he didn't notice the slight parting of Annika's lips and the first frail draw of breath. It was almost sunrise and the only good news from the mines was that the searchers weren't shooting at one another. At least not yet. No one had found a thing, all were exhausted, and most still had day jobs to get to. The mayor promised fresh volunteers 'first thing in the morning,' which probably meant hours from now in Mykonos time.

What the hell, thought Andreas, it probably doesn't matter much now anyway. All the likely places turned out to be busts — nothing even close to Panos' or the artist's. It was like looking for a needle in miles of buried haystacks. Andreas didn't hold out much hope of finding Annika Vanden Haag this way.

He told Pappas to have the men call it a night. Andreas respected Pappas' knowledge of the mines, but as Pappas told him, 'unless you know what the killer has in mind, there's no telling where he might be.' Between themselves they'd dropped the mayor's pretext for the search. Andreas let him assume they were looking for the same man who killed Vandrew. He suspected the others had reached the same conclusion.

Andreas thought it might help if he ran through the possible suspects for Pappas, but he didn't dare. Even if the killer were one of those on his list, there were five others he'd be naming as a potential serial killer. God knows how someone like Pappas would use that information against those men — freely citing Andreas as his source for the slander. Not something to do lightly if you valued a career. Still, if they were to have the best chance at finding her, he might have to tell him.

Andreas was standing by Pappas when he heard him radio the last group of searchers to come in. He looked at Andreas. 'Any suggestions on where to send in the new guys?'

Andreas nodded no. 'Wish I did.'

Pappas stared at him and took his sunglasses out of his shirt pocket. 'Sun's back.' He put them on. 'May I make one?'

'Sure.'

Pappas walked to the old mining-company maps laid out on the tailgate of his Jeep. They'd used them to keep track of the crews down below. 'I think we ought to start looking here,' he said, and pointed to an area by the sea. It was at the opposite end of their current search.

'Why there?' Andreas asked.

Pappas shrugged. 'I don't know, call it a hunch.'

Now it was Andreas doing the staring. 'What's your real reason?'

Pappas gave the smile of a shark searching for prey. 'Probably about the same as yours for starting us at this end.' He pointed again at the map.

'I never told you why I picked there.' Andreas' voice was coldly professional.

'Would you have if I'd asked?'

'No.' Andreas cracked a smile.

'Look,' Pappas said, his tone changing mercurially, 'it's late and I'm tired. This is my suggestion. Decide if you want to take it or not, and call me if you do. I have a business to run.' He seemed to fall back on that tone every time Andreas almost started liking him, and it pissed Andreas off.

Andreas let his anger pass before speaking. 'I'll consider your suggestion. Just tell me where it is. These mining maps have no topographic references I'm familiar with.'

Pappas smiled again. 'It's a tunnel that opens over there.' He was pointing toward the rising sun. 'By the priest's beach.'

Andreas was pretty sure how he knew to pick that spot. That brought back his anger, though he tried hiding it. 'Fine. We'll start there.' He knew he sounded abrupt. A few seconds passed and Andreas reached out his hand. 'Thanks for all your help,' he said sincerely. 'We couldn't have done it without you, and I'd very much appreciate any suggestions you can give the new men.'

They shook hands.

Andreas' anger wasn't at Pappas — it was at the contractor's friend and benefactor, the mayor. 'The damn bastard only cares about himself.' Andreas was ranting on the phone to Tassos as he drove back to town. 'I can't believe he gave him the names.'

Andreas heard a yawn. 'Ahhhh, start believing. I'm not surprised. Just be happy he's on our side — for the moment. By the way, what time is it?'

'About seven. What do you mean "on our side"?' Andreas couldn't shake his anger.

'He wants to find the killer as badly as we do. He also wants to keep things quiet, and knows Pappas will keep his mouth shut if he thinks it might jeopardize the island's building boom.' He yawned again. 'I'm sure the mayor told Pappas what to say at the meeting in the taverna. It made Pappas look like he wasn't afraid to stand up to him, and that way the warning about a killer out of Pappas' mouth, not the mayor's.'

Andreas shook his head. 'Real smoothie.'

'Yeah, so's a snake. Bet when he gave Pappas the suspects' names he told him to get you to tell him too. That way, if anything went wrong, Pappas could name you as the source and you'd believe you were.'

'Son of a bitch.'

'That's one of his nicknames. Hey, don't worry, no harm's been done, but watch the guy. He's capable of anything, and I mean anything. That's how he's stayed in power so long. He knows where all the bodies are buried — and how to bury them too.'

Andreas winced at Tassos' choice of words. 'Okay, so, how are we set up for tonight?'

Tassos wasn't yawning anymore, but he still sounded casual. 'There are more churches to Saint Kiriake on Mykonos than I thought, but some — like the big one in town — are too public for our killer to use. We'll only have to worry about the out-of-town ones off by themselves.'

Andreas' voice sounded doubtful. 'Something about this guy makes me not want to take chances.'

Tassos' tone turned serious. 'We don't have enough men. I don't want a cop sitting alone in the moonlight in the middle of the Mykonos hills waiting for a serial killer to show up. It's too dangerous, especially for the rookies — not to mention the kids still in the academy. We need at least two for every church.'

Andreas was serious too. 'Can't do it. We have to cover all the churches with what we've got or I'm calling Athens for help. Can't risk it. Not with all our suspects running around loose.'

He could hear Tassos' breathing quicken. 'What if we get teams to cover the out-of-town churches and uniforms walking beats between the ones in town? That'll give a show of force in town too — and coverup the fact that most of our cops are in the countryside.' Andreas knew Tassos was trying to sell him on keeping Athens in the dark, and he wondered if Tassos might be more worried about his pension than he'd let on.

'What time do we deploy?' Andreas' tone was neutral; he would think about the suggestion.

'To be safe, I figure two hours before sunset. They'll be up all night.'

'They're young Greek men on Mykonos — they should be used to that.' There was a mischievous lilt to Andreas' voice.

Tassos laughed. 'Yes, but it's harder to stay awake when you're not drinking and dancing.'

Andreas laughed too. 'Where are you now?'

'Syros. I had to wake up the archbishop to get his help. I've had a half-dozen men going through the archdiocese's records since three this morning mapping every Saint Kiriake church on Mykonos — everyone they have a record of, that is.'

That alarmed Andreas. 'How can there be churches they don't know about?'

'As the archbishop told me, we're talking centuries here, and it's possible not every church is in their records. The local priest would know, and certainly the family who takes care of the church would know; it's just that Syros may not have a record of it.'

Andreas knew it seemed too simple just to watch every Saint Kiriake church until the bastard showed up. 'That's just great. So, how do we make sure we have them all covered?' He knew if there was one person on Mykonos who knew them all, it was the killer.

'We're cross-checking against baptism, wedding, and death records to see if any other Kiriakes turn up.'

'How long's that going to take?' Andreas' frustration was building.

Tassos started sounding edgy. 'Don't know yet, but it's the best we can do. I'm planning to be in Mykonos by noon with my men. I'm bringing with me whatever information we find by then, and any more will be faxed to your office.'

Andreas let out a breath. Tassos had to be as frustrated as he was. 'Okay, just try not making too grand an entrance. Forty police arriving at the same time might look like an invasion.'

'We're coming in civilian clothes on the ferry so as not to scare the tourists. Where do you want us to meet you?'

'I'll have a bus pick you up at the pier.' He thought for a second. 'It'll take you to the taverna we went to last night in Ano Mera. We'll use it as headquarters.' He ran a hand through his hair. 'God, this is going to attract one hell of a lot of attention no matter how quiet we try to keep it.'

'I think Mihali's already managed to circulate our cover story to every local on the island. It's our police doing all it can to rescue a foreigner from possible harm. It will enhance the island's reputation for protecting tourists.' Tassos spoke with the mayor's pompous, public-speaking cadence.

Andreas smiled and hoped he wasn't about to hear another story about farmers, foxes, and chickens. 'Okay, I get the message. See you in five hours.'

After they hung up, Andreas decided not to confront the mayor as he'd planned. What's the use? he thought. Each of them, in his own way, was doing the same thing — trying to keep his mind off tomorrow's most likely ending: the deputy minister's niece is found murdered in a bizarre ritual killing and all the world learns that for decades a serial killer has been murdering Mykonos tourists at will.

He headed back to his office, snatched a cot from a cell, and tried to catch a few hours' sleep. After all, tonight he, too, would have neither booze nor dancing to keep him awake. He knew it would be difficult moving her to the church with police looking everywhere for him. He also knew the sensible thing was to toss her body into the sea and walk away, but he loved his plan too much to abandon it.

Besides, he must complete the ceremony. It was not out of pride that he thought that way, nor was he seeking glory for outwitting the police — certainly not any of a public sort. It was never his desire that the world know of him or his acts. He was not like those others who seemed to crave attention and left some souvenir sign or public message announcing each death. He found all the reward he needed in the many quiet moments he shared with his tributes within the solitude of these walls. No, he must complete the ceremony to honor those who protected him for so long in this foreign place and allowed him all those private moments. Moments like this.

He reached into the bag and pulled out what he needed. With a pencil he carefully drew dark brown eyebrows over the light ones he'd shaved away. Then he dressed her in a loose-fitting, light gray, cotton beach dress. Finally, he lifted her bald head and pulled on a long, dark brown wig. He noticed she was breathing lightly. Good, he thought: she'll make it to the church. He picked up his bag and left to find what he'd need to move her.

This time he locked the door behind him — just in case.