Sons of Sparta: A Chief Inspector Andreas Kaldis Mystery Read Online Free PDF Page B

Greek mythology placed as the entrance to Hades, home to the god of the dead. Some moderns called it by its Italian name, Cape Matapan; the ancients had called it Tainaron.
    “His car went off the road at a cliff and…”
    Kouros waited.
    “The ambulance driver said he didn’t suffer. But they always say that. I can’t stop wondering what was going through his mind in those last seconds.”
    Kouros had an idea of what it might have been, but this was not the time to bring up the death threats. Not with his cousin’s temper. “I’m sure he was thinking about your family. When is the funeral?”
    “Tomorrow at eleven.”
    “I’ll be there.”
    “Thanks. He used to say you and I were ‘two sides of a gold coin, each facing in different directions, but both made of the same stuff.’”
    Now Kouros struggled with tears. “Your father was a very special man.”
    “He drove that road every day. I don’t understand how it could have happened.”
    “Maybe he had a heart attack?”
    “There was nothing wrong with his heart. But there’s an autopsy going on right now.”
    “Anything wrong with the car?”
    “I have people checking on that as we speak.”
    Kouros heard anger growing in his cousin’s voice.
    “Have the police looked at the car?”
    “The cops in this part of the Mani wouldn’t know where to start. I called the same guy they use, a friend who has a repair garage. He’ll tell me all I need to know.”
    “All you ‘need to know’ to do what?” said Kouros.
    Silence.
    “Mangas, you’re angry and looking for someone to blame. I understand, it’s only natural. But that doesn’t mean you’ll make the right decision if you find something wrong with the car.”
    More silence.
    “Now it’s my turn to ask, ‘Did you hear me?’”
    “Yeah, I heard you.”
    “Just promise me you won’t run with your temper until the funeral is over and we’ve had the chance to talk.”
    Again silence.
    “You know your father would have wanted it that way.”
    “Okay. You have my word. Nothing until after the funeral.”
    “And we get to talk?” said Kouros.
    “Yeah. Bye.”
    The line went dead but Kouros kept staring at the handset. He’d often wondered how his cousin picked up the nickname “Mangas.” It came out of Greece’s Roaring Twenties as a term used to describe young, urban, working class men attracted to the rebetiko Greek folk music of their times, Greece’s equivalent of America’s blues. Hatched in prisons, hashish dens, and ouzo parlors, it attracted long-mustached men partial to an idiosyncratic style of dress—woolen hat, arm through only one sleeve of a jacket, striped trousers, knife snugly tucked into a belt around the waist, pointy shoes—and a distinctive John Wayne style of limp-walking. Old time mangas tough guys were long gone and today the word held many potential meanings, ranging from “strong or brave or crafty,” through “swaggerer,” and on down to “bully, henchman, or hooligan.” Some even said it was Greece’s equivalent for “dude,” as in the iconic Jeff Bridges character in the American film, The Big Lebowski .
    No matter what prompted his cousin’s nickname, if Uncle had been murdered there’d be no holding Mangas and his brothers back from taking revenge. And if Kouros didn’t tell them what he knew, they might end up going after the wrong people. But who were the right people?
    Kouros hung up the phone. A new bloody clan war was about to break out in the Mani.
    Time to speak to the chief.

Chapter Four
    When Andreas returned to his office he found Kouros sitting on his couch. “Why do I doubt you’re sitting here anxiously awaiting to talk about soccer?”
    “I need time off, Chief. Family business.”
    Andreas walked behind his desk and sat down. “I thought you said everything was terrific.”
    “It was. Until I got a call from my cousin. My uncle died this morning in an automobile accident in the Mani.”
    Andreas shook his head.