She shrugged. “What I do with all the business cards I receive. I gave it to my secretary to enter into my computerized address book.”
“What happened to the actual card?”
“I assume she threw it away, the same as she does with all the others.”
“Could you please ask her what she did with mine?”
“What is this all about?” said Eleni.
“Please, just ask,” said Andreas.
She looked at Tassos, “I’ll want an explanation, uncle.” Eleni picked up the phone and asked her secretary to come into the office. The secretary’s answers were simple and direct. She’d typed in the information and tossed Andreas’ card in the wastebasket. They had no paper shredder.
After the secretary left Eleni said, “Okay, you got your answers. Now, please tell me why all the mystery over your business card?”
“One of my cards turned up in a place it shouldn’t have and we wanted to know how it got there,” said Andreas.
“Well, at least it wasn’t the one you gave me.”
“Who picks up your trash?” said Andreas.
“You’re kidding.”
“No, he’s not,” said Tassos.
“We have women who clean up every night. They take out the trash and put it in a dumpster for collection and disposal by the town.”
“Are the women foreign?” said Andreas.
“Yes.”
“Do you know the woman who collects your trash?” said Andreas.
“It could be one of several.”
This was looking more and more to be a waste of time, but Andreas took down the women’s names. He’d get Kouros to speak to them later.
“Does this have to do with that Pakistani man who was found murdered at the dump last week?” she said.
“Why do you ask?” said Andreas.
“We’re not used to murders on Tinos. So, when right after you started asking questions about two killings another murder happened, it’s not that hard to make a connection.”
“Yes,” said Tassos. “They’re related. It also appears there might be some connection to Filiki Eteria.”
“How can that be? The Society hasn’t been active for close to two hundred years?”
Andreas cleared his throat. “Well, seeing that your uncle has decided to share our innermost secrets with you, let me tell you a bit more.”
“Still don’t trust me?”
Andreas smiled. “Sorry, force of habit. Remember when we told you that an unusually high number of tough guy metanastes and tsigani had come to Tinos looking for work?”
Eleni nodded.
“Well, it appears someone’s been recruiting them to Tinos with promises of supplementing whatever they’re paid for their work as long as they behave themselves.”
“Sounds like God’s work to me,” said Eleni. “Redemption is always available to the willing. But what’s the tie in to the Society?”
“The one in charge apparently is called the ‘shepherd,’ and has ‘priests’ recruiting ‘brothers,’” said Andreas.
Eleni nodded, “Same classifications as used by the Society.”
“How did you know that?” said Tassos.
“I actually studied in school, uncle. Besides, Tinos’ history is tied into it. There are families here who trace their ancestors back to Society membership. Some were even war heroes.”
“Any whackos among the descendants,” said Tassos.
“This is Tinos, uncle, everyone here has at least one ‘whacko’ in the family.”
“Let me guess who qualifies for that title in yours,” said Andreas.
Tassos flashed a quick open palm at Andreas. “Seriously, can you think of anyone in any of those families deranged or violent enough to be involved in this?”
“Getting bad people to mend their ways?”
“No,” said Andreas. “Murdering whoever gets in the way of whatever very bad things are planned to happen to your church at any moment.”
“Did any one ever tell you that you do have a certain edge, Chief Inspector?”
“Yes, I’ve heard that before, but it’s called being direct and I don’t have time now to change.” He smiled. “But, please, call me Andreas.”
Eleni nodded. “I’ll accept that as a gesture of your potential willingness to change. But the answer is still no, Andreas. There are many, shall I say, idiosyncratic types on our island. We have always attracted the artists and the unusual. I would not know where to begin. Do you have any particular family in mind?”
Tassos said, “What about the ones who own that metanastes bar?”
“I’m sorry, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Tassos gave Petros’ name.
“Oh, yes, they would definitely qualify as,” she paused, “eccentric. And their family also descends from one of the most heroic names in our War of Independence.”
“Were they members of the Society?” said Andreas.
“Absolutely. Leaders.”
“Could they be involved in this?” said Andreas.
“If you’ve met the family I don’t see how you could think that. Petros is exactly what you see, his sister is practically catatonic all the time, and Trelos is on another planet 24/7.”
“Trelos? That means ‘crazy.’ Who’d call their kid Trelos?” said Andreas.
“It’s what everybody calls the younger son. His real name is Pandeleis. He’s not all there. You might have seen him dancing through the town or along a highway with his iPod. He must walk the entire island at least once a day listening to his music.”
“Should keep him in shape,” said Andreas.
“What’s he look like?” said Tassos.
“He’s about five-feet six-inches tall, one hundred forty pounds, has long, curly brown hair and usually dresses all in black. Trust me, if you spend any time on the island, sooner or later Trelos will dance on by you.”
Tassos nodded. “Yeah, I’ve seen him. Just never knew his name.”
“He keeps to himself, make that his own world.”
“How long has he been on Tinos?” said Andreas.
“Since he was born. He’s probably in his mid-forties. His brother and sister take care of him.”
Tassos shrugged. “Well, it was a shot.”
“Sorry I couldn’t be of more help but there are hundreds of families on Tinos with an ancestor somehow tied into the Society. Any more questions?”
“Only one,” said Andreas. “If you were going to steal the most valuable thing on this island, how would you go about doing it?”
Chapter Twenty
Kouros was on Tinos early enough in the afternoon to have spoken to what seemed every taxi driver on the island before finding one who said he recognized the Greek hookers.
The driver was about fifty and stood next to his cab staring at the picture of the two coming out of the bar. “Better believe I recognize them. I still think of them every time I do it with my wife.”
“How did you meet them?”
“They called my dispatcher looking for a taxi to take them to a bar.”
“What bar?”
“Some piece of shit tsigani hangout.”
“Have an address?”
“It’s not the kind of place that has an address.”
“How did you find it?”
“They had a piece of paper with directions on it.”
“Anything else on the paper?”
“Yeah, directions to where I picked them up.”
“How’d you know where to find them?”
“They read the directions to my dispatcher. It was simple. I took a left off the highway just past the first cutoff to Volax and kept going until I saw a house. Never knew one was there. People build in the damnedest places these days.”
“Any idea who owns the place?”
“Not a clue, but there was a ‘for rent’ sign on the front door. Looked like one of those places Germans build in the hope of retiring there some day. Probably rent it out whenever they can to cover expenses.”
“Was there a phone number on the sign?”
“Don’t remember, but there must have been.”
Kouros muttered, “damn” under his breath. “What are those directions again?”
The driver smiled. “Hop in, I’ll give you a good rate.”
The ride to the house took twenty minutes, during which Kouros heard in exhausting detail every word the driver had said to the women between picking them up at the house and dropping them off at the bar. Despite Herculean efforts on the driver’s part to convince them they would have a much better time partying with him and his friends than going to that bar, the women did not say a single word to him the entire trip. They talked between themselves as if he weren’t even there. Kouros almost felt sorry enough for the guy to tell him not to take it personally, it wasn’t about him; the women were on a mission.