“Nice understanding folks up in his neighborhood,” said Andreas.
“He’s a big customer of the sex traffickers.”
“Do you think she’s pissed enough to turn on him?” said Kouros.
“Let’s hope she’s just pissed enough not to object to us busting him.”
“I think it’s time for lunch,” said Andreas.
“Took the words right out of my mouth,” said Tassos.
Kouros smiled. “No doubt to make room for a lot of other things.”
Chapter Twenty-one
They parked at the southern end of the harbor close to port police headquarters and strolled beside a seemingly endless row of two- and three-story buildings painted various shades of ochre. Tavernas, bars, hotels, and rooms-to-let lined the landside of the harbor-front road for as far as the eye could see.
“My rule is to try the busiest taverna,” said Tassos.
“But not if there’s a hustler outside pulling in tourists,” said Kouros.
“I accept that modification.”
“I prefer the one recommended by the harbormaster. It’s up there on the left.”
“You take away all the fun of the hunt,” said Tassos.
“Don’t worry, I’m paying.”
“Do I have to remind you again that we’re cops and cops-”
“Don’t pay.” Andreas nodded. “But today we’re trying to be inconspicuous.”
“Fine, pay.”
“Here we are,” said Andreas.
They entered the sort of place where all you’d remember about the décor would be the general concept of chairs, tables, windows, and a kitchen somewhere out back, but you’d never forget the food.
Fresh made taramasalata, melitzanosalata, and skordalia. Rigonada of the Cretan sort made with nuts, tomato, and feta, locally grown fried potatoes, Greek salad with caperberries, grilled calamari, sardines, and local sausage. All accompanied by locally grown and produced olive oil and Peloponnesian wine. Yoghurt with local honey and handmade spoon sweets made from reduced cherries and apricots would come last.
For twenty minutes everyone concentrated on the food and kept the conversation to small talk.
“Any word from Stella?” asked Andreas.
“As far as I know she’s taken off for Athens.”
“Can’t blame her,” said Tassos spearing a tiny deep-fried fish with his fork. “Things don’t seem too hospitable for her down in that part of Greece. Which brings me around to asking what you guys have in mind if we actually get a lead on Niko’s whereabouts?”
“Catch him,” said Andreas.
“And then what?”
“Get him to talk,” said Kouros.
“How do you plan on doing that?”
“Threatening him with a visit from my cousin ought to work.”
Tassos shook his head. “I don’t think so. Not with this guy. He’s got his own family looking out for him. Besides, he had to know there was a risk of going to war with your uncle’s family when he decided to go after him. But he still did it. He must have something up his sleeve. Or else he’s expecting a very sweet deal to talk.”
“He’s not going to get one,” said Kouros.
Tassos rocked his head from side to side. “Unless he’s offered something better than taking his chances at trial, I don’t think Niko cooperates. Let’s not forget, the only firsthand testimony we have directly tying Niko to a possible murder charge is the word of that muscle guy who tried torching Yianni. Assuming we find Urich and he corroborates his accomplice’s story, it’s still going to be tough getting a murder conviction in connection with Babis’ death without physical evidence of more than ‘talk’ on Niko’s part getting Babis to take his own life.
“As for Niko implicating himself in the uncle’s murder with what he said to Babis in front of those two guys, to me that’s an even tougher case. At least with Babis’ death we have Niko at the scene, standing around watching it happen. We have no physical evidence whatsoever directly tying Niko to your uncle’s murder.”
Tassos picked up another two gavros with his fingers. “It’s going to be a tough sell to the court on the evidence we have. My guess is the current odds favor him walking.”
“He won’t live long if he does,” said Kouros.
“Who’s to say? As long as he’s breathing he’s ahead of the game. No telling what might happen. He could disappear and never be heard from again. It’s romantic to think vengeance will hunt down the wicked no matter where, no matter how long it takes, but most often things don’t turn out that way. Even in the Mani, memories fade, life events intervene.”
“Not with my cousins.”
“What I think Tassos is trying to say is that catching Niko may not give us the answers we’re looking for.”
Tassos nodded. “Talk only implicates him, and without a deal, why say a word?”
“I’ve lost my appetite,” said Kouros.
“My God, don’t do that,” said Tassos. “I’ve given you the worst possible scenario. Speculation on what’s going through a wanted man’s mind. Thoughts of freedom and escape are the most common, but until we find this guy we don’t know what makes him tick.”
“Hard to imagine that a little two-bit shit like that could have brought down my uncle.”
“Aye, there’s the rub,” said Tassos. “Getting the mouse that roared to talk.”
Andreas leaned forward in his chair. “Not sure If I should thank you, Hamlet, or Peter Sellers, but you just gave me an idea on how we might get this guy to talk if we ever find him.”
“What do you have in mind?” asked Kouros.
“It’s percolating but about all I can say at this point is ‘’tis a consummation devoutly to be wish’d.’”
Kouros picked up a piece of spanakopita and took a bite. “I wish you two would stop.”
“At least it got you eating again,” said Tassos.
Andreas’ phone on the table rang. The screen read BLOCKED CALLER. He picked it up. “Kaldis here.”
He listened for twenty seconds before putting it back down on the table. “Well, we have an address for Niko.”
“Where?” said Kouros.
“On Kranae, wherever that is.”
Kouros turned and pointed off to the right. “You get there across that narrow, concrete causeway. It’s an arrow-shape island two hundred yards offshore. The whole island’s only about five hundred yards long, east to west, and one hundred yards wide at the broadest point.”
“What’s on it?” asked Andreas.
“Mostly dirt, rocks, and pine trees. There aren’t many places to hide. It’s got a lighthouse at the far end, a church on this end, and a battle tower and connected mansion from the early 1800s in the middle. The tower’s been renovated and expanded to house the Historical and Cultural Museum of the Mani. And, aside from a couple of fishing shacks just beyond the church, a restaurant and taverna on the island end of the causeway, that’s it.”
“How do you know all this stuff?” said Andreas.
“My mother makes me take her to the museum practically every time we’re down here.”
“Whoever called you must be pulling your leg,” said Tassos.
“We’ll just have to wait until tomorrow to find out.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because someone other than Mihalis Petropoulakis just said to me, ‘Niko will meet you at the tower on Kranae at ten tomorrow morning, right after it opens.’”
“He wants to meet with us?” said Kouros.
Andreas nodded. “Yes. But to be precise he also said, ‘And please be sure to bring along that cousin with the shortened last name who works with you.’”
***
By nine the next morning Kouros and Andreas sat in a rental car off the edge of a gravel and dirt parking lot watching the seaside entrance to the museum.
Andreas lifted a two-way radio to his lips. “Anything yet?”
“Nope,” said Tassos. “What about you?”
“Not a thing here, but we’re hemmed in by pine trees. No telling who might be out by the lighthouse or back inside the church.”