Dig Two Graves: Revenge or Honor Read Online Free PDF Page A

at the midmorning traffic on the MacArthur Causeway from his twentieth-story perch. Yachts ploughing through the chop on Biscayne Bay caught his eye, but he was lost in empty thoughts. In the ten days since his return from Boston, he’d frequently found himself at this window. The Boston cops had called him after finding the limo driver dead but still had no idea who killed his father. AJ wondered how things could get worse. His early morning caller had insisted on an immediate meeting, saying he had important information about his father. How could AJ refuse? His secretary’s gentle knock brought him back to matters at hand.
    “Yes. What is it?” AJ said.
    “Your 10 o’clock appointment is here, Mr. Pantheras,” Carol Bailey replied.
    AJ cast a suspicious eye at the man ushered into his office. He met him with an outstretched right hand and a hopeful expression. The visitor took AJ’s hand in a surprisingly firm grip and said, “Hello. I am Savas, Ceres Savas. I was sorry to learn of the death of your father.”
    “Thank you. I’m AJ Pantheras. You said on the telephone you had information about my father. Did you know him?” AJ said.
    “May we sit? I am afraid I do not travel well any longer,” his visitor responded.
    “Please. Have a seat, Mr. Savas,” AJ said, indicating the conference table in the center of the office.
    AJ’s visitor sat with a sigh, his body visibly unwinding in the comfortable chair. AJ couldn’t tell his age, perhaps he was sixty, or sixty-five, but he could have been much older. He stood about five feet four, a sturdy, muscular man who was surprisingly fit for his age. He had broad shoulders and a thick neck. His long, weathered face began with a strong chin and ended halfway up his head at a deeply receding hairline.
    He wore a white guayabera with three open buttons from which long tufts of grey hair spilled. His plain dark slacks ended at white socks and scuffed black shoes. He carried a worn black leather folio that he put on the floor beside him. The visitor looked as though he would be comfortable at any of Little Havana’s sidewalk cafés or playing chess in the park, but something wasn’t quite right.
    “Thank you, young man, that’s better,” he said as he leaned back in the chair, “perhaps some coffee? I think better with a cup in my hand,” said Ceres.
    Annoyed, AJ went to the credenza and quickly poured two steaming cups of coffee. He returned to his visitor, handing him a coffee before setting down his own cup. He was in no mood for stalling.
    “Now, what is it I can do for you, sir? I am very busy,” AJ said.
    “I believe it may be what I can do for you,” he said, handing AJ an envelope he had retrieved from his leather folio.
    AJ took the envelope bearing his name and immediately recognized father’s distinctive script.
    “Open it my boy, open it, Ceres said.
    AJ tore the envelope, and removed a single sheet of paper. When he unfolded it, a small key fell to the floor. AJ picked up the key then quickly read the last letter his father had written.
    “Do you know what this is, mister…?
    “Savas, Ceres Savas. Yes, Ajax, I know, he told me as he wrote it,” Ceres replied.
    “If you don’t mind, please call me AJ. Only my parents called me Ajax.” AJ said.
    “Ajax is your name, is it not?” Ceres replied.
    “Yes, but …”
    “Then that is how I will address you … as Ajax.”
    “All right, whatever. I don’t understand,” AJ lowered the letter to look more closely at his guest. “He says I should trust you but doesn’t explain. What was he looking for? Why does he have a secret safe deposit box? What’s going on?”
    “I will try to make it clear,” Ceres began. “I have a small books shop in Boston, many old and out of print editions. I met your father more than a year ago. He was researching events in Greece during the Second World War. My store had several volumes he wanted,” Ceres replied.
    The man’s accent was thick, but AJ,