Sons of Sparta: A Chief Inspector Andreas Kaldis Mystery by Jeffrey Siger Read Free Book Online Page B

third, the age of Orestes’ guests.
    “So, how long have you known Orestes?” said Andreas.
    “We just met him tonight,” said the blonde.
    “We’re with his friends,” said the brunette.
    “ Hey you , get away from that table.” It was one of the two men talking with Orestes. He spoke Greek without an accent.
    Andreas turned to the man, lifted his hand, and motioned with his forefinger for the man to come to him.
    “Fuck you, asshole, I said get away from that table.”
    Andreas turned away from him, leaned in, and said to the girls, “I hope that one’s not yours.”
    The brunette gestured no.
    Andreas smiled. “Lucky you.” He turned to the blonde, pressed his lips close to her ear, and said, “I assume that means he’s all yours.” He kept his lips next to her ear, but out of the corner of his eye watched the man bolt up from his chair and storm toward him. He looked like a small, sixty-year-old bull. In heat.
    Without moving from the woman’s ear Andreas put up his hand in a sign for the man to stop. Instead the man grabbed Andreas’ arm and yanked him out of the chair.
    With his free hand Andreas grabbed the man around the waist and laughed as he began quickly spinning them around together. “My, my what would your wife say if she knew about us carrying on like this in public?”
    The man let go of Andreas’ hand and Andreas abruptly stopped spinning, letting go of the man’s waist as he did and sending him stumbling into the women’s table. Before the man could regain his balance, Andreas steered him by his shoulders down onto the seat between the blonde and brunette. He tried to stand, but Andreas gripped his shoulders and held him down. “I suggest you stay here. It will be far less a scandal than what will happen if you try to stand up.”
    Andreas smiled at the people staring at them from the other tables. “Don’t be alarmed, folks, just a little lovers’ quarrel.” He leaned down, kissed the top of the man’s head, and whispered. “Like I said, stay .”
    Andreas stepped over to Orestes’ table and sat in the now empty chair next to him. “So, what is it you want to tell me? Or would you prefer that I ask you to dance, too?”
    Orestes glared but didn’t respond. He waved for a waiter. “Please find us a private table for two.”
    The waiter bowed. “Certainly, please follow me.”
    He led them to an isolated table in the corner farthest from the front door.
    Andreas sat with his back to the wall and stared at Orestes’ eyes.
    “Do you know who that man you just embarrassed is?” said Orestes, staring back.
    “You mean my dance partner?”
    “He’s the most successful contractor in Greece. His companies build harbors, airports, dams, bridges, power plants.”
    “I assume you mean the most successful unindicted contractor in Greece.”
    “I don’t like you, Kaldis.”
    “I don’t want you to.”
    “I can have you replaced.”
    “Try.”
    Orestes turned his head and motioned to a waiter serving a nearby table. “Bring me my drink.” He looked back at Andreas. “You should know better than to turn on your own kind.”
    “My ‘own kind?’ What kind is that?”
    “Greeks, of course. But not just any Greeks. I’m talking about those of us with the power and ability to achieve great things.”
    “Not sure I follow you.”
    The waiter arrived carrying a bottle of scotch and a snifter. He placed the glass in front of Orestes and poured in a ten count of Johnny Walker Blue Label.
    “A glass for my friend.”
    “No thank you, I’ll have a Mythos.”
    “Ahh, despite your champagne bride, you retain your beer roots.”
    Andreas pointed at the glass in Orestes’ hand. “Don’t let the courage in that go to your head. You keep talking like that and you’ll learn a few more practices I’ve carried over from my roots.”
    Orestes raised his free hand. “No offense intended. I simply meant to compliment you on how well you’ve retained the charm of your origins.