An Aegean Prophecy by Jeffrey Siger Read Free Book Online Page B

up. ‘Answering machine.’
    Kouros said, ‘I hate the way we have to use cell phones these days. Can’t say a damn thing on them directly. You’d think after that scandal over tapping the prime minister’s phone they’d have figured out some way to make them secure.’
    Andreas shook his head. ‘If someone has the right sort of equipment there’s virtually no way of preventing him from listening in on cell phones.’ He picked up a piece of cucumber with his fork. ‘And if something at all close to what Dimitri suggested is true …’ he rolled his fork in the air, ‘I don’t even want to think about it.’
    Kouros picked up an olive and popped it into his mouth. ‘Why, worried about mind readers?’
    Andreas shrugged. ‘That’s all we’d need, but thanks for reminding me. I better call Lila as soon as we get to the hotel.’ He put the fork in his mouth.
    ‘At least GADA keeps all our landlines secure,’ said Kouros.
    ‘Let’s hope so. I’d hate to think of someone listening in on your late-night desperate bachelor calls from home.’
    Kouros grinned as he picked up another olive. ‘Jealous. So, what’s next?’
    ‘Looks like
barbouni
.’ Andreas pointed to Dimitri coming through the door carrying a platter of fried red mullet and a bottle of white wine.
    ‘Here’s something to get your minds off of business for a while. All that will wait.’
    Not really, thought Andreas.
    * * *

    Dinner with Dimitri was an experience. Between the great food, a bit too much wine, and endless bitching about every politician in Greece, Dimitri managed to sneak in a few subtle inquiries on the investigation. Andreas deflected them all, or so he hoped.
    After dinner they stopped by the Biblio. Shop owners on tourist islands think like fishermen: if you want to catch anything, you better be there when they’re running. So when tourists were massing on the island, everything stayed open late. This shop was barely wider than its door, but there was no telling how deep it ran, because every bit of space was jammed with open boxes stacked to the ceiling. No one seemed to be inside, although the door was open.
    ‘Hello, anyone here?’ said Andreas.
    A shuffling sound came from somewhere deep within the mess of boxes, and a tiny person popped through what until then seemed just a crack between the cartons. It was a very old woman dressed all in black, with raging, uncombed gray hair, dark bright eyes, and a pencil behind her ear. She nodded.
    ‘Hello, I am a policeman investigating the death of Kalogeros Vassilis.’ Andreas took care to address her formally and use the respectful title for a monk. ‘Abbot Christodoulos thought he might have purchased some envelopes here yesterday.’
    The old woman nodded yes, and pointed to a carton off to her right, about three feet above her head. He wondered how she reached them.
    ‘Did he buy anything else?’
    She nodded yes.
    ‘What?’
    She nodded toward a display of crosses hanging by lanyards on a pegboard next to the door. ‘One of these?’ He pointed at one of the crosses in the display.
    She waved her hand to the left of where Andreas was pointing, and kept waving him to move his finger until it pointed at a silver-colored one on a black lanyard. ‘This one?’ he asked.
    She nodded yes. Andreas picked it up. It was square-edged, made of sheet metal, and its longer leg was at most three inches long and one inch wide. A thin, black lanyard passed through a hole at the top of the cross. More of the lanyard material was wrapped tightly around the longer leg just below where it intersected with the shorter one, presumably as a fashion accent for a cheaply made tourist item. It was marked ten euros.
    ‘Do you know why he bought this one?’
    She gestured no.
    ‘Did he ever buy a cross from you before?’
    She gestured no, again.
    ‘Was he alone?’
    She nodded yes.
    ‘What did he say to you?’
    She pointed to the carton of envelopes and crosses, as if that were the