Andreas nodded. He asked them all sorts of other questions through two more rounds of beers but no answers yielded more information than they’d already told him.
“Thanks, ladies, and if you think of anything else, please let me know.” He handed the tall one his card. “Like any more about that ‘farmer’ your Romanian friends were talking about.” He smiled because he’d used the Polish word for farmer.
“What do you mean?” said the tall woman.
“You told me that the Romanians said I was asking about some ‘farmer.’” This time Andreas used the Greek word for farmer. The same one the tall woman had used.
She shook her head, “No, if that’s what that Greek word means in Polish I didn’t mean that. What I meant was a word for something different.” She looked at the short girl and said a word in Polish.
The short girl said, “Sheep farmer.”
“Shepherd?” said Andreas.
“Yes,” said the tall girl. That’s what the Romanians meant when they said you were looking for a cioban.”
The short girl’s eyes widened. “Wait a minute, that’s the name the tsigani brothers were toasting the last night they were with us. Don’t you remember, they said, ‘To the cioban,’ because something they knew about him was about to make them ‘very rich.’ You and I talked about it later. We even toasted to him.”
The tall girl picked up her beer and took a swig. “Yeah, I do. So what. Instead they’re dead. Life sucks.”
Andreas had nothing to add.
“Did you get anything from the fat guy while I was talking to the ladies?”
They were sitting in the car next to the fence and Andreas had just finished telling Tassos what he’d learned from the two women.
“A lot of local gossip about everything but what I wanted to know. From what I could tell he probably owns all this land.” Tassos waved his hand above his head. “Lives off the rents and spends his nights sitting at that table watching the cash register and his sister doing all the work.”
“Thought she might be his wife,” said Andreas.
“That would be the traditional way a Greek love story turns out, but this time it’s the spinster sister. Her boyfriend jilted her twenty-plus years ago and she’s been wearing black ever since. In mourning for her lost love. Petros said that place is all that keeps her going.”
“Terrific. I’m so happy for them both. Let’s get back to the hotel.”
“What about that tsigani bar? Don’t you think we should check it out? Find out what we can about the two new women in the dead brothers’ lives.”
Andreas looked at his watch. “It’s nearly three, and I’ve got to be on a 7AM boat to Mykonos or Lila will kill me. I’ll get Yianni over here first thing in the morning to help you chase that down. And while you’re at it, maybe you could find out how those two Romanian guys knew the Pakistani had told us about the ‘shepherd’?”
“My guess is that after we left they threatened to beat the hell out of him if he didn’t tell them what he’d whispered to you. Not smart to whisper when the people you don’t want to hear already can’t understand you. It makes them think what you said was very important. And about them.”
“What the hell, we’re never going to wrap this up before the wedding anyway.” Andreas started the engine.
“Spiros will be pissed.”
“Tough, let him close the case. I have no intention of turning up as the next dead body by screwing up all of Lila’s wedding plans.”
“Don’t worry,” Tassos smiled. “Lila’s smart enough to make sure you’d never be found.”
Andreas looked at Tassos and slowly said in Polish, “Fuck you.”
Chapter Twelve
Andreas made the seven AM ferry. It arrived thirty minutes later at Mykonos’ new port. Andreas saw Lila waiting for him on the pier. She was wearing the Greek island woman’s official August uniform: sundress, sandals, and sunglasses.
Andreas was one of the first down the ramp and off the boat. He waved and when Lila waved back he yelled, “See, I made it. I’m a man of my word.”
Lila waited until he was almost up to her. “Yes, fear is a terrific motivator.” She smiled and kissed him.
He put his arm around her back and gave a quick squeeze to her butt. “Missed you.”
“You, too.”
“Where’s Tassaki?”
“Your mother and mine are watching him.” Lila smiled, “Frankly, I think he’ll be spoiled rotten by the time we get back. Get in, I’ll drive.”
Instead of turning right out of the port toward the main road that led to the middle of the island and on to her parents’ home, Lila turned left.
“Where are we going?” said Andreas.
“It’s a surprise.”
“Great, I like surprises.” He squeezed her thigh.
The road ran up a hill alongside the sea and down again into Aghios Stefanos, a tiny beachside village reminiscent of earlier times. As the jeep passed by the shorefront Andreas said, “Are we going there?” He pointed to a taverna dead ahead.
Lila smiled and said, “Nope.”
The jeep wound up another hill, made a few switch back turns, and headed down into Houlakia, a shoreline area famous for round, salt-and-pepper color stones the size of soccer balls. Andreas liked it best for its remote, rugged proximity to the sea.
“I know where you’re headed,” Andreas said. “To my friend Elena’s. That’s wonderful, I haven’t seen her in ages.”
As Lila drove past the entrance to Elena’s hotel she said, “Nope, wrong again. You’ll just have to wait until the wedding to see her.”
They were now at the base of Mykonos’ northwest coastline hills, directly across from Tinos. Their heights were home to arguably the most spectacular views of sunset on the island, and once barren hillsides now resembled photographs he’d seen of Los Angeles’ Hollywood Hills, sans green.
Lila turned right and drove as straight up the hill as the roads allowed, jumping from asphalt to gravel to dirt and back again without slowing down.
“I sure as hell hope you know where you’re going.”
“Me, too,” said Lila. “I haven’t been up here in years, but a friend who lives somewhere around here told me the road goes through.”
“Through to where?”
Lila smiled. Thirty seconds later Andreas had his answer when the jeep popped over the top of a rise. Directly in front of them was Mykonos only lighthouse, the Armenistis.
“Great choice,” said Andreas
“The ride’s not over yet.”
Originally built in 1891, Armenistis was now fully automated, which meant there no longer was a need to maintain the access road for a lighthouse keeper, and what did remain of that road was now as bad as any on Mykonos. Even the ruts had ruts. Lila plowed straight ahead without slowing down. At fifty feet from the lighthouse the road split in two, with the part to the left edging along a cliff until seemingly disappearing over it into the sea. Lila went right, up toward the front of the lighthouse.
“Good choice,” said Andreas.
At what looked the last conceivable place to stop Lila kept going. She squeezed along an overgrown path between the lighthouse wall to the left and a sheer drop to the right.
“Having a good time?” said Lila.
“If you’re trying to make the wedding seem less frightening you’re doing a damn good job.”
Beyond the wall the road abruptly ended, but with just enough room to make a sharp turn to the left. Lila made the turn and stopped. They were on a peak behind the lighthouse overlooking the sea.
“Now I see how they get those cars on the very tops of mountains for television commercials. You drive them.” Andreas looked out his passenger side window. “Is it safe to open my door or will it be one hell of a big first step.”
“Are we talking about marriage again?” Lila pinched his belly. “There’s a picnic basket and blanket in the back seat. Grab them and let’s enjoy our breakfast with a view.”
He paused.
“Don’t worry about turning around,” said Lila. “This connects over there with the road that split off where I turned up to the lighthouse.” She pointed to the end of a wall in front of the jeep.