An Aegean Prophecy - Jeffrey Siger [5]
‘Chief, I don’t think—’
‘I said now.’
The sergeant hurried out the door.
Andreas looked at Kouros. ‘Do you think they’re just stupid, or lazy, or is it something else?’
Kouros shrugged.
‘Let’s hope it’s the first two. But watch out for the third. Which reminds me.’ Andreas spun his hand in the air and pointed to his ear. Listening devices were not unusual in police stations trying to catch suspects talking among themselves.
Kouros nodded. ‘But do you really think the captain is being blackmailed by his gay lover?’
Andreas rolled his eyes. He’d grown used to that sense of humor. They’d been together since Andreas was chief of police on Mykonos and Kouros was a brash young rookie.
Kouros laughed.
About a minute later the door burst open and a middle-aged man about Andreas’ height, but with a noticeable potbelly, stormed into the room. ‘Who the fuck do you think you are?’ he screamed, moving his eyes between Andreas and Kouros.
Andreas smiled. ‘I’m the one you’re looking for, Captain. How nice of you to take time out of your busy schedule to drop in for a chat.’
The captain pushed himself straight into Andreas’ face. ‘You’re an asshole and I don’t give a fuck who you think you are, this is my island and no one talks to me that way. No one.’
Andreas smiled. ‘Simple choice. Start cooperating or grab your worry beads and start praying. My job description includes investigating police corruption anywhere in Greece. So if you and your island want to make it to the top of my shit list, just keep it up,’ Andreas lifted his hands and patted the captain’s cheeks, ‘kukla.’ The use of the endearing word for ‘doll’ in Greek did not hide Andreas’ message: go ahead, test me, asshole.
The captain drew in and let out a quick breath, then stepped back, so fast that Andreas made a mental note to seriously consider starting an investigation.
Andreas stared at the captain. ‘I understand you believe the monk was the victim of a random mugging?’
‘What else could it be?’ His tone was edgy.
‘That’s what I’m asking you.’
‘He was a monk. Been here forty years. Everyone loved him. He had no vices, no girlfriends, boyfriends, or enemies. His life was an open book. No one had a motive.’
‘You think he just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time?’
‘Yes, he probably was attacked by some of that same scum that drifts in during tourist season to prey on whatever looks easy. We get that sort passing through every once in a while.’ The captain paused. ‘Why, do you think some psycho with a grudge against the church decided to take it out on poor Vassilis?’ He smiled as if he’d already anticipated and dismissed Andreas’ thinking.
‘As a matter of fact, no, I don’t. But, for the same reason, I don’t think it was a mugging.’ Andreas handed him the photographs. ‘What jumps out at you from these?’
The captain looked through each one and shrugged. ‘His throat was cut.’
‘Anything else?’
‘No.’
‘Exactly. And what does that mean to you?’
The captain bristled. ‘I don’t have time for your bullshit.’
Andreas remained calm. ‘Yianni?’
Kouros answered matter-of-factly. ‘There are no other marks or stab wounds on the body.’
‘So?’ said the captain.
Kouros continued. ‘A single cut, administered at precisely the point most likely to cause as quick and painless a death as can be done by a knife.’
The captain shrugged.
‘Muggers aren’t that careful, precise, or trained,’ said Andreas. ‘I can’t remember ever seeing a mugging-turned-murder victim cut just once. Have you, Captain?’
The captain didn’t answer, just glared.
‘I’ll take that as a no. And if this were a psycho lashing out against a symbol of the church, I can’t imagine rage great enough to drive a deadly, random attack on a monk being satisfied by a single, surgical slice.’
The captain clenched and unclenched his fists. ‘So what are you saying?’
‘Premeditated murder.’
Andreas expected an argument.
‘I can’t imagine why. But I see your point.’
Andreas was surprised. Perhaps this asshole actually had an