A Solitary Reaper Page 15

  But a man in a suit, clutching a shiny, brown briefcase stumbled into him and the fantasy popped. Savva's imagined grandchildren disappeared, and Minerva's voice dissipated on the wind. The bland, beige outline of police headquarters sat solidly in front of him. Savva dropped his head, curled his hands into fists, and forced the pain away. As he rounded the final corner, his eyes fell on a gleaming red sports car parked at an angle in front of the station. Lovely parking.

  Stelios waited at the door to the stairway, one hand in his back pocket, and the other clasping a thick black file folder. Savva cocked his eyebrows; Stelios jumped to the side so that his boss might precede him up the stairs. "Goldstein is here, Sir."

  “Which attorney did he bring?"

  "No one. I left Kaikas outside the door."

  "No attorney?"

  "He said he has nothing to hide," Stelios said with a shrug.

  "He probably knows we want to talk to him about the confrontation at the restaurant."

  "Well, he can't deny he knew Matthias."

  "He could argue that Matthias confronted him about his horrible parking."

  "You've got to be kidding."

  Savva shrugged. "We don't know what they argued about–or if it was an argument. It's possible it was a disagreement between 'business' partners or a healthy chat about the offside rule for all we damn well know."

  "Are you alright, Sir?"

  "Would you mind your own business?" Savva snapped, and tore off down the hallway. He stopped outside a small interrogation room and nodded to Kaikas who understood herself dismissed.

  Anthony Goldstein rose and extended a be-ringed hand, as though he was conferring some great honor. His black, Savile Row suit was so well tailored that it added to Goldstein's height while also taking off weight around his waist. The gold cufflinks, which poked out beyond the white shirt sleeves, glinted in the harsh bright light. Aside from the beard, he might have been Kleitos' twin. It was a good look, every article of clothing and accessory carefully chosen, but the effect was ruined by the cut above Goldstein's right eye, and half healed bruises around his mouth and the white sling.

  "Ah, Captain Savva, what a pleasure to see you again."

  "Mr. Goldstein," Savva said, "thank you for coming on such short notice."

  Goldstein resumed his seat, motioning for Savva to do the same, without sparing a glance for Stelios, who stood behind Savva. "What can I do for you today, Captain Savva?"

  "Your name has come up during the course of our investigation into the death of Matthias Papatonis."

  "How would that be?" he said. Then with a small laugh, "Of course, the restaurant. I saw ... oh what's his name? Papatonis. At Giorgos' restaurant. We had a little disagreement in the parking lot."

  "What was the disagreement about?"

  "A girl, I think. It was petty. He thought I was involved with her."

  "And that's all you spoke about–this girl?"

  "It is."

  "You neglected to mention this when we spoke at your residence; why is that?"

  "I didn't remember, Captain. I'm a busy man. I can't remember every man who accosts me outside a restaurant."

  "Do you get accosted often?" Savva asked, his face a very convincing mask of concern. "This was the second such occurrence in a short period of time."

  Goldstein stroked his arm. "No, not often."

  "What's the name of the girl you were arguing about?" Stelios asked.

  Goldstein looked bemused as though the wall had spoken. "I don't remember. Some prostitute he knew from Athens."

  "A prostitute? Why did he want to know?" Stelios asked.

  "I've no idea," Goldstein said with a dismissive wave of his manicured hand. "He was raving. I'm sure that's why we were seen by the staff, the whole neighborhood probably heard."

  "And then what happened."

  Goldstein turned his attention back to Savva, a honeyed expression on his lips. "I went inside to finish dinner with my friends. I called a taxi about midnight and went home. I hadn't seen him before and I never saw him again."

  Goldstein fingered the top button of his suit. Stelios shuffled in the corner. But Savva stared serenely across the table, his eyes fixed on the man opposite.

  Goldstein straightened his white pocket square. "I think I'll go now, if you have no more questions for me."

  "This is the second time you have been connected with a murder victim, Mr. Goldstein."

  "The first time, Captain. You were the astute policeman who uncovered the sad reality that John Fitzroy had, in fact, killed himself."

  "For which you certainly bear some of the blame."

  "Hardly. John Fitzroy was a monster. Look at what he did to his wife and to my daughter."

  "I meant what I said to you then."

  "I'm sure you did, Captain. But I had nothing to do with this murder."

  "How much contact do you have with the mafía, Mr. Goldstein?"

  "None to my knowledge," he said coolly.

  "This isn't the theatre, Mr. Goldstein, we aren't playacting. How much contact do you have with them?"

  "As I said: none. Of course, I could be wrong. They are like Italy's Opus Dei. It's easier to get things done when no one knows who you are, what your purpose is, what you do, or if you're real."

  "The mafía isn't Opus Dei. They are real and they ruin this country for normal people trying to live their lives. They corrupt government and hoard all the money and power they can get. They are a scourge on Greece. An overgrown cockroach in need of a crushing foot."

  Goldstein laughed and patted the table. "Captain Savva I couldn't agree with you more. But now, if that is all, I must be going."

  He placed both hands on the table, waved at Stelios, and flung open the door. Goldstein's quick, light step echoed down the hallway. Kaikas slipped into the room, her arms crossed over her chest. Savva tapped his fingers on the table, taking one moment to relish in the look on Goldstein's face, the half smile of an opponent thoroughly beaten (or so he thought), was glorious.

  Stelios threw up his hands in outrage. "That was complete shit."

  "Do you think so?"

  "Of course, Sir, he didn't tell us anything!"

  "He told us a great deal. I'm not sure he even knows what he told us."

  "What do you mean, Sir?" Kaikas said, taking Goldstein's vacated chair.

  "The busboy didn't overhear Goldstein and Matthias' conversation. But Goldstein had no way of knowing that. He assumed that the gist of the argument was audible. So what he said was the truth or at least part of it …” Savva let the idea sink in.

  "The girls …” Stelios whispered. "But Goldstein said they were arguing about a prostitute."

  "Please, use your head. Who would you take? Who wouldn't be noticed?" Savva said.

  "But we have no idea that's what's going on, Sir. It could be anything," Kaikas said.

  Savva put his hands on the table and gazed levelly at the pair of them. Their minds had not been corrupted by decades on the force. They saw in black and white. Jaded as Stelios appeared to be with his rough words and quick temper, he was naive and couldn't begin to fathom the horrors of which he spoke.

  "Why would you take girls? What use are they to you? What would cause a young woman to hide in an upstairs bedroom and refuse to say a word?"

  He studied Kaikas and after a moment he saw her eyes widen as fear spilled out. "They're being trafficked …” she whispered in horror.

  Stelios fell back against his chair. "Damn."

  "Damn is right."

  The room cackled with electricity. No one spoke, for all were caught in their own imaginations, and Savva's mind fell into the hold of a ship with whimpering huddled masses as a door was shut above and the hold was plunged into darkness.

  "But, what does this have to do with Matthias?" Kaikas whispered.

  "I don't know that it has anything to do with him. But before John Fitzroy died, whatever it was that he was using to blackmail Goldstein was stolen. And whatever it was,
was enough to force Goldstein to bankroll the hotel."

  "But Goldstein was right, he didn't kill Fitzroy," Stelios argued doggedly.

  "It doesn't mean he killed Matthias either, it means that he's been up to something for over a year. If he's doing what I think he's doing; if he's trafficking these girls, then he's doing it without the mafía's blessing, and they aren't happy about it."

  "So they won't stand in our way?" said Stelios.

  "No."

  "We don't have any proof of this, and we certainly don't have proof that he had anything to do with Matthias' death," Stelios said slowly as if trying to inject reality into the conversation.

  "Let's take a closer look at Matthias' time in Athens–and earlier. I'll talk to Kleitos about making a trip."

  "Yes, Sir."

  "Have you called your parents yet," Savva asked, turning to Stelios.

  "They weren't there–my sister answered."

  "Call them back and record the conversation. If you need to go to Mykonos and figure out what's been going on, do."

  Stelios nodded and hurried from the room.

  "Do you think she escaped from that?" Kaikas whispered. "The girl in your house?"

  "I think so. It makes the most sense."

  "Did Matthias get involved? Had he learned something?"

  "Goldstein doesn't work that way. He'd hire someone, they'd use a gun, and make sure the body disappeared."

  "What if the killer wanted him found? If it wasn't mafía? Perhaps some twisted sense of remorse?"

  "It's possible, probable, I'd go as far to say."

  "Bricks come from buildings …”

  Savva stared at her. Her normally sharp inquisitive eyes were opaque and she reached out as though picking one from a wall. "From building sites."

  "Someone took a brick from a building, carried it around, took it with them, and brought it to kill a man."

  "What did Matthias do that was so bad that someone needed that brick to kill him? That specific brick?" she asked.

  "That is the question indeed."

  * * *

  Stelios walked to his desk, wrote out a hasty note for Savva, left headquarters, and headed to the beach. He made for Savva's bench where the outline of Mitilini was still visible through the olive trees. Across the water, the dome of the Church of Agios Therapon towered over the orange, red, and cream buildings, like a Greek grandmother. Two matching teal boats slid past, their masts furled, their captains leaning over the sides, their laughter echoing across the water. Stelios plugged in the recorder to the headphone jack and put the ear bud in his ear.

  "Stelios! Chaírete," a bright, slightly hoarse, voice said.

  "Chaírete, Ma,"

  "Your sister said you called. How are you? Shouldn't you be at work? Is something wrong?"

  "Does something have to be wrong for me to call?"

  She laughed and dishes clinked in the background. "You hardly ever call."

  "I'm sorry." He ran his hand through his hair and dropped his gaze from the colorful line of the city, to the water. "I'd like to ask you and Dad a couple of questions."

  "Oh yes?"

  "Captain Savva wants to know if there are any girls missing from Mykonos."

  "How do you know?" Stelios almost dropped the tilefono. His mother sighed and Stelios thought he heard a sniffle. "Your father knows more, but there are three missing girls. The papers won't talk about it. The families aren't wealthy, and of course it would hurt our major industry if it got out."

  “Ah yes, the blessed tourism.”

  "Yes," she sighed.

  The sound of running water came over the line. She would be standing at the sink, her white Apple headphones in so she could wash and talk at the same time. She would shake her head over the girl's terrible fate; her shoulders slumped in her cream dress with the flowers on the skirt. The kitchen around her would smell of baklava and roasted lamb with rosemary, and there would be pitas in a basket on the table covered by a white and blue striped towel.

  "How did you hear about this?" his mother asked in a small voice.

  "We might have a similar issue."

  "Might?"

  "Is Dad there?"

  "Stelios, you have to tell me. Are there more missing girls?"

  "At least one that we know of–but she's safe now."

  "Here's your father."

  The line crackled and popped as headphones were switched from ear to ear. Then footsteps echoed softly through the microphone. "I went up to the roof. I don't want her to hear any of this," Stelios' father said. "How did you find out?"

  "Captain Savva. Well, his wife. She works with an English woman on Lesvos. They organize relief efforts for the refugees. A girl was pulled from the water. They thought she was a refugee until she showed them her I.D. She covered up the name and refused to tell anyone who she was. She's at the Savva's house right now, and refuses to speak. She only said one thing to Captain Savva: she was sorry for putting them in danger. On top of that, during our murder investigation, we've come across what looks to be a human trafficking ring."

  "Are the two related? The murder and the trafficking?"

  "Captain Savva doesn't think so and it doesn't look like a traditional mafía hit. But he thinks Matthias, our victim, might've known something. Anyways, tell me about the Mykonos girls."

  "The first girl went missing nine months ago, in the fall, the second in February, and the third two weeks ago. The first girl was treated as a runaway. I didn't even think much about it. She wanted to travel–she was tired of running her parent's shop and listening to stories from tourists. The second girl sent a postcard to her mother a week or so after she went missing and said she'd be back soon. Both of them had rough childhoods. It wasn't a shock they left. But this last girl; she's the youngest daughter of a good family. I refuse to believe she left voluntarily.

  "It's been hushed up too, the press won't talk about it. The mayor refuses to draw connections between the three girls, as far as he's concerned they are unrelated incidents and not criminal. The only thing he's concerned about is tourism. The girls are Greek, but you can't expect holidaying parents to think that way. They won't come if they think we are a kidnapping hotbed."

  "What do the police think?"

  "Oh, the police side with the mayor. There isn't an Alexandros Savva here. They're all corrupt, and the ones that aren't don't have any power. You can't expect them to put their jobs in jeopardy and their families at risk."

  "Was there an investigation?"

  "A cursory one."

  "Who saw the girls last?"

  "Their parents. They all said the same thing; they came home, went to bed, and then they were gone in the morning."

  "Did they take anything with them?"

  "Their phones and an overnight bag."

  "All the girls?"

  "All of them."

  "Are there records of them leaving the island?"

  "No, but everyone has a boat here. They could have gotten on any of them and started to make the trip to the mainland."

  "Is there a file I can look at?"

  "I'll ask around, but I can't promise anything."

  “What has your boss said?" Stelios asked.

  "He's terrified a reporter will get ahold of a story that'll get him a Nobel. But other than that he blows it off. He doesn't have daughters, only sons."

  "Your daughters are all safe, Dad."

  "That doesn't mean anything!" his father said hotly. "These are children, young women with bright futures ahead of them and no one is doing anything."

  "I didn't mean anything by it."

  "It's how the media represents rape," he said as though he hadn't heard Stelios' apology. "After they vilify the victim for what she was wearing, where she was, how much she'd drank, how many sexual partners she'd had in her lifetime, they say 'oh she was someone's daughter, someone's wife, how would you feel if it was someone you loved?'

  "But they have no idea what they are doing … they make a wonder
ful woman valuable on the nature of her personal relationships and who has a claim over her body and health and happiness. 'A man loves her so you can't hurt her.' It's hideous. It's another way to exert ownership. And it's worse here than in Europe or America. We don't talk about it. At least the rest of the west writes about it … even if it doesn't change a thing."

  "I'm sorry, Dad."

  "Oh, don't mind me. You're the only one I can rant to. If I talked to your mother it would send her into shock."

  "She's not weak, Dad."

  "Oh I don't mean it that way. I meant that it's hard for her to see me caving under the pressure."

  "They do matter; these girls," Stelios said quietly.

  "You're right. They matter because it's wrong and it's against the law to kidnap and enslave. If no one loved these girls, if they were terrible people, they still have the right to make their own choices."

  "What's Ma cooking?" Stelios asked.

  "Lamb."

  "How much?"

  "The whole thing."

  "Are you having a party tonight?"

  "Yes, with a few friends. Which reminds me; one of our guests owns a few of the docks, I'll ask him if he's heard anything about the girls."

  "And the police file?"

  "I think I know how to get it, but it won't be today or this week. So hold tight."

  "Be careful, Dad."

  "I will. No one will know I'm asking questions, that's how smooth I'll be."

  "Are you still talking to my son?" a faint voice said. "Good let me talk to him for a minute. Stelios, when are you coming home?"

  "I'm not sure. I'm in the middle of a murder investigation."

  "Make sure you come out after it's done so you can keep an eye on your father while he's doing whatever it is he's doing for you."

  "I didn't ..."

  "Don't you lie to me young man."

  "Yes, Ma."

  "Good, here's your father."