Her Boyfriend's Bones Page 7

  “This way.” She motioned to K.D. and started down the wider trail. She hadn’t gone a hundred yards when she encountered a tall, wide-bodied monk in a long, dirty cassock. She gave him a perfunctory smile and attempted to sidle past. He stretched out a gigantic arm and blocked her. His countenance, while not overtly hostile, was daunting. His eyes were black as jet and a bristly black beard splayed wildly down his chest.

  “Let us by, please. Me sinkhorite.”

  He stood like a wall, arm out. Even if he didn’t understand English, he understood that she wanted to go past. And if he understood that and still didn’t yield the right of way, then he must be some kind of a crazo. Dinah had few rules that she lived by, but one of the top three was don’t mess with crazy people. She whirled around, gripped K.D. by the elbow, and hissed, “Let’s beat feet.”

  “Are you looking for the footpath down into the lagkadi? I will guide you.”

  “No, no.” Dinah kept her feet moving forward. “That won’t be necessary. We’ll just retrace our steps.”

  “I can show you a beehive near the overlook.” He scuffed along close on her heels, kicking sand into her shoes and breathing his dragon’s breath of garlic and stale beer down her neck. “Nothing like Samian honey to cure the ills of the flesh and sublimate the baser hungers of the soul.”

  Dinah didn’t want to find out what this bird’s baser hungers might be. She stepped up her gait, pushing K.D. ahead of her.

  “I am Brother Constantine. What are your names?”

  “I’m Katarina,” said K.D., swiveling her head. “And this is Dinah Pel…”

  Dinah jabbed her in the ribs.

  “Dinah Pelerin. Yes. I know who you are. You’re staying in Marilita Stephan’s house with the Norwegian policeman.”

  The back of Dinah’s neck tingled. She felt exposed, vulnerable. How did this filthy, feral monk know where she lived or that Thor was a policeman?

  “I can tell your fortunes if you like,” said Constantine. “This mouth is a portal through which the goddess Hera speaks. Will you hear her?”

  They reached the fork. Dinah prodded K.D. in the back. “Hurry up.” She threw a glance behind her, saw Constantine stumble, and felt a heavy punch as he pitched head-first into her back.

  She twisted as she went down, landed hard on her right hip, and yelped as more than two hundred pounds of malodorous monk flumped down on top of her. Grunting and flailing and pawing, Constantine seemed deliberately slow in rolling off of her.

  With a cry of disgust, she wriggled out from under him and clambered to her feet, fear displaced by anger. “That better have been an accident, mister.” She dusted herself off and started back to the village, looking behind her to make sure he didn’t follow.

  Brother Constantine sat up splay-legged and roared with laughter. “Give my regards to Inspector Ramberg, Miss Pelerin. And congratulations to Zenia. She has poked Kanaris in the eye but good this time.”

  Chapter Nine

  Dinah put her head down and fumed off toward the village. Her thoughts were churning. What the hell was that old fraud talking about? Did Zenia’s eye-poke have something to do with leasing Marilita’s house to a policeman, even if the policeman was a Norwegian and on sabbatical? Why would the denizens of a bucolic Greek village that had not a single street light or stop sign care if a cop moved in?

  Her mood had curdled. Behind her, K.D. was talking on her cell phone and her giggles grated on Dinah. As if murder weren’t enough to think about, she had been saddled with a scheming, self-willed teenager, insulted by the landlady, and mauled by the scuzziest monk she’d ever seen. Her hipbone hurt from the fall and, from what she could see over her shoulder, the seat of her pants had an embarrassing stain.

  Someone jostled her. Her heart skipped a beat as she looked up into the probing eyes of the codger who’d ogled her in the taverna.

  He touched the side of his fisherman’s cap with two fingers. “Me sinkhorite.”

  “No problem.” She stepped aside to let him pass.

  “You are staying in Marilita Stephan’s house with Inspector Ramberg,” he said.

  Inwardly, she cringed. It felt as if everybody in Kanaris had been peeping in her bedroom window. She said nothing.

  He handed her a business card. “My name is Galen Stavros. I was a great admirer of the lady and a personal friend. I would like to call upon you some afternoon if that would be acceptable. It would be an honor to visit her home.”

  “You’ll have to make an arrangement with Inspector Ramberg. He’ll be at the Marc Antony later today.”

  “Thank you. I have an appointment this evening, but I will call later.”

  Dinah waited for K.D. to catch up. She had finished her phone call and Dinah looped an arm through hers to show solidarity as they walked past the winery. The man she thought of as Saddam was still there, tossing his worry beads and daring anyone to step foot on the property. She faced him with a skewering stare. She was fed up with the atmosphere of teasing intimidation.

  From a distance, she espied Thor—an hour early—in the courtyard of the Marc Antony. He was repositioning a table umbrella to shield himself from the sun.

  “Whoa!” said K.D. “That guy with the umbrella is gorgeous.”

  He really is, thought Dinah. And a lot more besides. He’s smart and he’s grounded and he never gives me grief for my kinks and shortcomings. He’s an island of calm and I’m blowing in like a meltemi. She slowed down, brushed at the stain on her fanny, fluffed her hair, and took a deep breath. Whoa was exactly what she needed to do. She needed a time out and a large quantity of red wine. She would not be setting an example of abstinence tonight for K.D.’s sake.

  Thor was still futzing with the umbrella when she and K.D. traipsed into the courtyard.

  “Kjære!” His eyes flickered in a subtle, but decidedly amorous way. “I got back to the village faster than I thought. I’ve already ordered a bottle of wine.”

  She felt an instant uptick in attitude and a little shiver of sexual anticipation.

  “This is Thor?” K.D. came on full gush. “OMG, he’s blazing.”

  “Thor, this is K.D. Dobbs. She and her brother are…”

  “Family,” finished K.D., overdoing the drawl. “That’s how we think of Dinah. She’s the Rock of Gibraltar in our family.”

  Thor smiled and took her hand. “I’m very glad to meet you, K.D. You’re the first member of Dinah’s family I’ve met.”

  Dinah squeezed out a smile. The less said about her rogues’ gallery of a family the better. “Let’s sit down and unwind.”

  Thor pulled out a chair for K.D. and she wilted into it like a Slinky toy. “We have had ourselves such a day. We went for a walk in the woods and this gi-normous monk tried to lure us off to his beehive and Dinah was like, let’s scrambola, and we did, but he followed us and knocked Dinah down in the dirt.”

  Thor shot Dinah a concerned look. “He knocked you down?”

  “It was an accident. I think.” She wasn’t ready to delve into the encounter with Brother Constantine just yet.

  Thor’s fingers brushed her arm as he pulled out a chair for her. “It sounds as though you have adventures to tell.”

  “After the wine,” she said.

  He readjusted the umbrella and sat down. He was wearing an unstructured, tan linen jacket and slacks, more suitable for a business meeting than a walk on the beach. He said, “This morning I went into Samos Town and had a talk with the public prosecutor. He informed me that he had already released Yannis Thoma for insufficient evidence. No gun, no indictment.”

  “Are you a policeman?” asked K.D.

  “In Norway. I am a police inspector in the Svalbard region.”

  Dinah hoped K.D. wouldn’t start in on him to intercede with the Atlanta police on her behalf. “Why did you dodge the question when I asked you last night if th
e police had found the murder weapon?”

  “I knew you wouldn’t like the answer. They couldn’t search without a warrant. When they returned with a warrant this morning, they came up empty.”

  She made a wry face. “Alcina probably went to the farmhouse and disposed of the gun as soon as the police drove off with Yannis.”

  “Maybe. I know you like Yannis for the murder, but I can’t see that he has a motive.”

  “Did the police question anyone at the taverna to find out what Yannis and Fathi were arguing about?”

  “No one claims to have understood.”

  “They were talking loud enough to be heard and there were other Greeks in the courtyard,” said Dinah, looking around to see what was holding up the wine service. “And regardless of what you say, I think there’s something fishy about Yannis.”

  Thor gave an exasperated shake of his head. “I think the good people of Kanaris don’t rat out their fellow citizens. And I agree with you about Yannis. He’s JDLR.”

  “What’s that?” asked K.D.

  “Just don’t look right.” He grinned. “I picked it up from an episode of NYPD Blue.”

  K.D. leaned her elbows on the table and cradled her chin in her hands. “It must be just thrilling to be a policeman.”

  Dinah was about to remark that policemen get a particular thrill protecting people’s homes from burglars, but she bit her tongue.

  Brakus bustled out of the kitchen with a tray and a bottle of wine. “Greetings, my friends.” He set the wine on the table and offloaded a basket of bread, a bowl of olive oil, and two glasses. “And you have brought a guest. Kalispéra.” He drew a corkscrew out of his apron pocket.

  “Could we have another glass, please?” K.D. was irrepressible. “I can show you my ID if you like.”

  “No need. You are with a policeman, no less.”

  Dinah sliced a glance at Brakus. “Do you know a monk named Constantine?”

  “There are no monasteries near Kanaris. No monks.”

  “There’s one,” said K.D. “He talks kind of nutty and smells as if he hasn’t had a bath since the Middle Ages.”

  “A homeless beggar,” said Brakus. “Since the austerity cuts, there are many homeless people sleeping rough, many unemployed.” He seemed preoccupied tonight. He didn’t ask K.D. where she came from or what she was doing in Kanaris, or where and how Dinah and Thor had spent their day. He uncorked the wine and poured a taste for Thor, who pronounced it fine. He poured two glasses and turned to go. “It is permitted to serve the young lady?”

  “Sure. Why not?” The way Dinah felt at the moment, she didn’t care if Princess K got plastered so long as there was plenty for the grownups. She said, “We may want a second bottle in a little while, Mr. Brakus. And would you bring a large bottle of water?”

  “Certainly.”

  He scurried off and Dinah imbibed a long, soothing drink of wine. “Your occupation has created quite a stir in Kanaris, Inspector Ramberg. It was a mistake that first night telling the chatty Mr. Brakus that you were a cop, even if you made a point of saying you were on holiday. He must have put out a bulletin. Everybody seems to know who we are and this Constantine character, who calls himself the ‘mouthpiece of Hera’ for crying out loud, implied that Zenia Stephanadis leased Marilita’s house to a policeman in order to provoke her neighbors.”

  Thor shrugged. “It can’t matter to anyone that a Norwegian cop with no authority comes here as a tourist. Now if somebody spread the rumor that I was a tax collector, I’d be worried.”

  “Well, I’m worried. I saw Brakus in Pythagório this afternoon in highly suspicious circumstances.”

  “Suspicious in what way?”

  “In an up-to-no-good way. Do I have to put it in TV cop-speak or do you need an English phrase book?” As soon as the words flew out of her mouth, she felt like a louse.

  K.D. smiled. “We’ll have to be extra considerate tonight, Thor. Poor Dinah must be exhausted from our walk in the heat and the dirt bath she took after she was tackled by that monk.”

  Thor frowned. “I thought you said it was an accident.”

  “It was.” After my first glass of wine, thought Dinah. I will tell the twerp she has to go home after my first glass. I’ll put her on a plane to Athens tomorrow morning and if she jumps ship in Athens and wings off to Timbuktu, so be it. It won’t be my fault. She gave Thor a contrite smile. “I’m sorry I was short, Thor. It just looked fishy to me that Brakus would be so chummy with your friend, the Greek cop.”

  “Sergeant Papas?”

  “If Papas is the cop you rode off with to arrest Yannis. I saw Brakus give him a large shopping bag and I’m betting it wasn’t a batch of baklava. There was another man with them. He looks like Saddam Hussein. When K.D. and I walked past the winery at the foot of the hill, he was sitting in front glaring at us like, I don’t know, like a...”

  “A total gargoyle,” said K.D. “He gave us the side eye like whoa, I am one thug-nasty dude and you better not even think of coming any closer.”

  Dinah had to hand it to the kid. She had a gift for language.

  Thor looked impressed, too. Dinah hoped he didn’t start mixing teen slang with TV cop slang.

  He said, “I’ve heard that Zenia employs refugees to work in the vineyard and around her house. He’s probably a day laborer. But it worries me why Brakus would meet with Papas.”

  “Are you here to advise the Greek police?” asked K.D.

  “Nothing like that.” His eyes skimmed past Dinah’s and veered off into the grape arbor. “I’m just an observer.”

  “Oh, what an adorable kitty.” K.D. scooped up a white-socked black cat and cuddled her, or him. The cat meowed weakly. “Are you hungry, little sweetie? Would you like me to order you some tuna fish?”

  Brakus’ harried looking wife delivered the wine glass for K.D., gave her and the cat a scathing look, and whisked back toward the kitchen.

  “What’s her problem?” huffed K.D.

  “Perhaps she has too many adorable kitties underfoot,” said Dinah.

  “That’s cold. This little cutie is starving and she’s probably throwing out gobs of food.”

  Thor poured three or four ounces of wine into K.D.’s glass. She set the cat back on the floor, broke into a triumphant smile, and raised the glass like a trophy.

  Dinah picked up her own glass and put it to her lips.

  “Wait!” K.D set down the glass and clapped her hands together under her chin. “Aren’t y’all supposed to offer a toast? What do the Greeks say, Thor?”

  “I do have a Greek phrase book, to compensate for my deficient English.” He reached into the inside breast pocket of his jacket. As he did, Dinah caught a glimpse of his shoulder holster. He pulled out a small book, read for a minute, and said, “Ya-mas. To our health.”

  “Ya-mas,” echoed Dinah and they all touched glasses. She deserved that little dig about his English, which was impeccable, and he deserved her trust and support and good humor or what was the point? She lifted her face to the sea breeze, inhaled a lungful of sweet air, and rebooted. “Somebody else bumped into me. An admirer of Marilita.” She handed him Galen Stavros’ business card. “He wants to visit the house. I told him he should speak with you to set up a time.”

  Thor read the card. “What did he look like?”

  “Old,” said K.D.,“but not crashy.”

  “Crashy?” It was obviously a new one on Thor.

  K.D. translated. “Crazy plus trashy. He’s sort of shriveled, but he has sexy eyes, like he could have been handsome when he was young.”

  Dinah hadn’t noticed the sexy eyes. She had been too rattled by the fact that he also knew where she lived. She said, “He’s been in the taverna before. He’s tanned like a cowhide and wears a black fisherman’s cap.”

  Thor grinned and put the card in his pocket.
“Maybe he has a take on what drove the mysterious Marilita to murder.”

  Dinah said, “Her sister attributes her blowup to a carnal nature and a disdain of proper institutions.”

  “You’ve met Zenia?”

  “It was more of a skirmish than a social meeting. She showed up at the house this afternoon to get a look at her new tenant’s live-in girlfriend. I don’t think she much cares for your taste in women. But here’s an intriguing tidbit. She let it drop that Alcina is Marilita’s illegitimate daughter.”

  “That is a surprise. Why would Marilita leave her home to Zenia instead of her daughter?”

  “But she did leave it to her daughter,” said K.D.

  It was Dinah’s turn to be surprised. “How do you know that?”

  K.D. clicked her zebra-print fingernails on the side of her wine glass. “Alcina told me. She came to my room this afternoon to make sure I had everything I needed. I said her house was just gorgeous and she went all glum and said that it had been hers, but it wasn’t anymore. She signed it over to Zenia when she was sixteen so that Zenia would give her the affidavit she needed to marry Yannis.”

  “A minor can’t enter into a contract anyplace I’ve ever heard of,” said Dinah. “Especially not one that cheats her out of her inheritance. Zenia and Marilita may have owned the property jointly and when Marilita died, Zenia took over the management. Alcina doesn’t get along with Zenia. She might be exaggerating about Zenia stealing the house out from under her.”

  Nobody remarked. K.D. went back to nuzzling the cat. Thor broke off a piece of bread and analyzed it minutely. He seemed to grow more abstracted by the minute. Dinah sipped her wine and rubbed her bruised hip. She read an old poster on the wall next to the dining room advertising the 2010 Athens Classic Marathon, commemorating the 2500 year anniversary of the first marathon. A messenger named Phidippides ran from the battlefield at Marathon to the capital to announce that the Greeks had defeated the Persians. As Dinah recalled from some book or other she’d read, as soon as he delivered the happy news, he dropped dead.

  Her glass had gone dry. This was her cue to speak up and disabuse K.D. of any hope she entertained of staying on in Kanaris. Somehow, the moment didn’t feel right. She decided to put off her decision by one more glass of wine. She watched K.D. playing with the cat. Her tale of family woes had dredged up memories of Dinah’s own teenage angst. The summer when she turned sixteen, she had appropriated her mother’s car and a few hundred dollars and driven across the country from Georgia to Seattle to seek refuge with her Aunt Shelly. That escapade had whetted her desire to travel and Shelly, a teacher of ancient literature, had inspired in her a love of mythology. When she went home to go back to school in the fall, she’d outgrown her desperation. She had a fresh perspective and new interests. She thought, maybe I owe K.D. a week or two of refuge. Maybe all she needs is a little time apart from her mother to get her head on straight.