“But why did you pick that guy’s property?”
Babis’ took a sip of the beer. “That’s where your uncle told me to grow it. I told him there were a lot safer places to do it, but he insisted I grow it there.”
“Any idea why he made you do it there?”
“Not when he asked me, but I pretty much figured all that out later. He had a hard-on for the guy. The owner double-crossed your uncle in some business deal years before and your uncle never forgave him. I don’t think your uncle ever intended to take delivery of the grass. He just wanted to fuck the landowner. And did he ever. I’m sure he’s the one who tipped off the DEA, too.”
Son of a bitch, thought Kouros suppressing a smile. Uncle was just settling a score. Never cross a Maniot. “But he fucked you, too.”
Babis shrugged. “He paid me what he promised, and protected me ever since. Even set me up in this business. I’m very grateful for all your uncle did for me.”
“I come back to what I said before, now that my uncle’s dead, what’s to prevent the landowner’s family from coming after you?”
“They’re not vendetta-crazy like you people from the Mani. Your uncle’s dead. He’s the one who set everybody up. That should end it.”
“Sounds like you’re praying.”
Babis drained the rest of the beer. “I have to prepare for my lunch customers. Are we done?”
“For now.” Kouros stood and headed toward the door, passing Stella coming back inside.
“Hurry back,” she whispered.
He sensed she was right about that.
***
Something’s not right. Kouros left the taverna and drove south toward Cape Tenaro along a winding mountain road filled with hundreds of domesticated goats herded by a single dog, all of them acting as if the road were theirs alone. But his mind wasn’t on the goats, the dog, or the scenery. He had to think. Kouros squeezed the steering wheel and gritted his teeth. “He’s the one who set everybody up,” kept running through his mind.
That didn’t sound like someone “grateful” for what Uncle had done for him. It was more like a man bearing a deep grudge. For six years Babis had run a taverna on the ass end of the Peloponnese, far away from the action he was used to up north. And every day of those six years he’d had to serve coffee to the guy who put him there. Babis would have been better off serving his time in prison. With prison overcrowding what it was, he’d probably be out by now, even with a twenty-year sentence.
Babis certainly had reason for a grudge. But was it a big enough one to risk murdering his protector? Babis was full of shit about Uncle’s death ending the Pirgos family’s desire to come after him for their father’s death. They’d go after him the moment they knew he’d lost Uncle’ s protection. Maybe Babis was banking on Mangas’ protection? Could be. He’d likely honor his father’s commitments. But if the autopsy showed Uncle was murdered, that family up north would be the least of Babis’ problems. He’d spend the rest of his days looking over his shoulder worrying whether one of Uncle’s children might someday think Babis had something to do with their father’s murder. And why the death threat notes? Kouros smacked the steering wheel.
Something’s definitely not right.
Chapter Ten
Maggie opened the door to Andreas’ office. “Chief?”
Andreas looked at his watch. “Why are you still here?”
“Curiosity.”
“Okay, I’ll bite. Curious about what?”
She walked over to his desk and handed him a large flat envelope. “It’s our techies’ take on the autopsy of Yianni’s uncle. They called to tell me it was on the way, so I waited.”
“That was fast.”
She smiled. “Someone lit a fire under them and they did the same to the local guy who performed the autopsy.”
“So, what’s it say?”
“Chief, I don’t open your mail.”
“Right. I forgot. It arrives that way from the mail room.”
Maggie shrugged.
Andreas unwound a string holding the cover flap closed, slid out a document, leaned back in his chair, and began to read.
Maggie sat across from him.
The first page recited all the customary exculpatory language to the effect that the author’s conclusions were based solely upon data provided by someone else so that if the data were in error the conclusions might change.
He slid the first page across the desk to Maggie and started reading the second. Halfway down the page he sat up in his chair. “Jesus.”
“What is it?”
Andreas held up the page and pointed with a pencil to four words. CONCLUSION: DEATH BY POISON.
“My God. Yianni was right. His uncle was murdered.”
Andreas went back to reading the report. He finished and slid the pages across the desk to Maggie.
“This technical stuff is all Chinese to me, Chief. What does it mean?”
Andreas tapped his pencil on his desk. “If the report is correct, his uncle died from exposure to an exotic poison lethal to the touch that rapidly brings on a massive heart attack in an otherwise healthy individual. According to the victim’s medical history, his heart was sound and asymptomatic for heart disease or any other suspect cause for such a natural death.”
Andreas leaned forward and with the eraser end of the pencil drew the report back to him. He looked at the second page. “According to a blood analysis done by the local coroner, there were traces of markers to the poison. Not of the poison itself, because it breaks down rapidly, but of the byproducts of its disintegration. We got a break with a quick autopsy, otherwise all evidence of the poison would have disappeared.”
“Doesn’t sound like the local coroner was involved in a cover-up.”
Andreas nodded. “My guess is once he found signs of a massive heart attack, he took that for the cause and didn’t bother to look any further. But even if he had, picking up on this poison would require sophisticated forensics skills I doubt he had. Even our guys couldn’t tell how the poison was administered.”
“So, how can they say it was death by poison?”
“It’s the old ‘within a reasonable degree of medical certainty’ routine. In other words, they’re pretty sure he was murdered, but it’s up to us to find out how.”
“Was it something he swallowed at the taverna?”
Andreas gestured no. “That would have killed him on the spot,” said Andreas.
“What about a needle?”
“Not as far as they could tell. It’s possible bruises and cuts sustained in the crash covered up a needle mark, but that would mean whoever planned it to look like an accident left to blind luck whether the injection site would be discovered on an autopsy. I don’t see whoever’s behind this as being the sort to take that kind of risk. This was planned as a ‘no comebacks murder.’” Andreas emphasized “no comebacks” with finger quotes. “A simple, obvious heart attack with no links back to the killer.”
“So, how do we figure out how he was poisoned?”
He smiled. “Push the techies harder. That’s your job. Starting first thing tomorrow morning.”
Andreas resumed tapping his pencil on the desk. “The big question for me is, why did they work so hard to make it look like an accident?”
“They didn’t want to trigger a war in the Mani?”
“Death threats tied to an old vendetta don’t make sense if you’re trying to make a murder look like an accident so as not to start a war.”
“So, which of us passes the news on to Yianni?”
“I’ll do it,” said Andreas. “And let’s keep this to ourselves for now. The last thing we need is a bunch of crazy Maniots running around the Peloponnese chasing after suspects. That sort of paranoia runs up the body count pretty quickly.”
Andreas picked up the phone. “I sure wish Yianni had been wrong.”
***
“Poison!”
“Yes, a rare sophisticated one. Not something you’d find in a gardening shed or local pharmacy.” Andreas picked up the report. “It says here that ‘depending on the method of administration, the onset of a heart attack would be in two to ten minutes.’”