An Aegean Prophecy - Jeffrey Siger [14]
The two men scoured the room but found nothing.
‘Come to think of it, I remember passing Vassilis on his way back to the monastery yesterday afternoon. He was carrying a plastic shopping bag. The envelopes may have been in it.’
‘Do you remember a name on the bag?’
‘No, but he would have purchased them at Biblio, a shop just off the town square …’ The abbot’s words faded off at the mention of the square.
‘Thanks. I think I’ll give my partner a hand with the interviews.’ Andreas paused. ‘I’m sincere about the thanks. I know this must be very tough for you.’
The abbot nodded. ‘You have no idea how much Vassilis meant to this monastery. Not only was he a true man of God, he was a mentor to us all. He wanted nothing of higher rank, yet there was no one above him in the Church of Greece who did not treasure his judgment as if he were a peer. He was their genuine friend and a trusted, respected confidant.’
Andreas caught a glint of something in the abbot’s eyes, as if his words had triggered a thought. But the abbot said nothing. He didn’t have to. Andreas said it for him, ‘Perhaps he was too much of a “confidant.”’
The abbot stared off into the middle distance. ‘God help us if that’s the answer.’
Andreas nodded. ‘Amen.’
4
It was nearly sundown by the time they finished interviewing those they could find on the abbot’s list. A few visiting monks were out wandering about the island. The abbot said he would arrange for them to be available in the morning. Dozens of interviews had yielded two things: a mound of praise for a revered man, and zero leads. No one saw the monk leave, knew why he left, or had any idea of who might be involved in his death.
They were standing in the piazza by the monastery’s gift shop. It was closed and the piazza virtually deserted. ‘No way some local did this,’ said Andreas.
‘Way too professional,’ said Kouros. ‘But why?’
Andreas shrugged. ‘My guess is vengeance or fear. But it had to be a hell of a motive to lead to this.’
‘You think it might be tied to Vassilis’ past, from before he became a monk?’
Andreas shook his head. ‘I doubt it. Can’t imagine whatever drove this taking forty years to come to a head.’
‘Maybe one of the visiting monks noticed something?’
‘Maybe,’ said Andreas, looking at his watch. ‘Jesus, I never called Lila to tell her I wouldn’t be home tonight.’
‘Don’t worry, I spoke to Maggie and told her to call.’
Thank God for his secretary. Maggie ran Andreas’ office. Most thought she ran all of Athens General Police Headquarters, better known as GADA. She’d been there longer than the building. Maggie’s long-time boss had retired a few weeks before Andreas was promoted back to GADA from Mykonos, and when the human resources director suggested she retire with him, the political buttons she pushed had the director staring at his own retirement. That’s how the legendary Maggie Sikestis came to report to Andreas - or, as it so often seemed to Andreas, vice versa.
Andreas let out a breath. ‘Thanks, Yianni.’ They started toward the stone path leading back to the town square.
‘No problem.’ Kouros smiled. ‘But to be honest, Maggie said she’d already called her.’
Both laughed.
‘My friends, please, come join me.’ It was Dimitri shouting to them from his open front door.
That guy doesn’t miss a thing, thought Andreas. ‘Thanks Dimitri, but—’
‘You haven’t eaten yet, have you? And if they fed you inside,’ he pointed toward the monastery as he spoke, ‘you must be even hungrier.’
Andreas looked at Kouros, shook his head, and smiled. ‘Okay, we give up.’
They followed Dimitri into the restaurant and out onto the balcony. It was packed with tourists staring off into a pink, blue, and silver sunset.
‘Here, please sit, I’ve been saving your table.’ He waited until they sat, then hurried back inside.
Kouros whispered, ‘Can’t be too careful around that guy. I wonder if he’s a spook.’
‘Wouldn’t bet against it. Greece is full of spies. It’s part of our history. The question is, a spy for whom?’
‘The church?’
‘If he is a spy, that would be my guess. That’s who’s most