ALICE G. ALIFERI
LOVE, ROCK AND CRIME
T HE CHARACTERS
S AVVAS K ALLINIS
HOMICIDE DETECTIVE , POLICE DEPARTMENT
ROSE
A CORRUPT BUSINESSMAN CHICAGO CASE)
M ATTHEW HURT
ROSE ’S ACCOUNTANT
AVRA NESSOU
MANAGER OF RESTAURANT
J ASON , PETER, P AUL, STEPHEN, T ITUS , AND N ICK ( A. K. A. THE SHRIMP )
THE ROOKIES , SAVVAS KALLINIS ’ TEAM
JIM W HITEBROW
THE CHIEF OF HOMICIDE
M AGDA CHALMERS
AN EX -MODEL, MARRIED TO MICHAEL CHALMERS
B ASIL GODDARD
A FILM DIRECTOR , ASSISTANT MANAGER OF THE AMBROSIA RESTAURANT (THE CHICAGO CASE)
COOPER
ROSE ’S FRIEND, A CRIMINAL (THE CHICAGO CASE)
H ARRY COTTON
SAVVAS ’ BEST FRIEND , A DOCTOR
M ARJORIE
THE CLOAKROOM AMBROSIA
ANTHONY
A GALLERY OWNER , CLOSE FRIEND OF AVRA AND BASIL i
THE
GIRL
ATHENS
(THE
AMBROSIA
AT
THE
LEO CHALMERS
A SLIMY LAWYER , MICHAEL CHALMERS ’ COUSIN
JUNIOR CHALMERS
THE REPRESENTATIVE OF THE AMBROSIA , ALSO MICHAEL CHALMERS ’ COUSIN (T HE C HICAGO C ASE )
ALFRED S ATYR
A THEATRE PRODUCER (THE CHICAGO CASE)
SERGIO ZEFF
A DANGEROUS AND AMBITIOUS SELFMADE MILLIONAIRE .
GREENE
A CRIMINAL ATTORNEY
JUMPER, OLDMAN AND HUNTER
HOMICIDE DETECTIVES
LESSING
GREENE ’S CLIENT , KNOWN AS THE “SHARK ” (THE GREENE CASE)
JUDGE T RUTHWAITE
A RESPECTED JUDGE (THE GREENE CASE)
EVA T RUTHWAITE
HIS WIFE
PHILIP
A MOTORBIKE LOVING STUDENT
ANDREAS M ANTA
A SWISS POLICEMAN
GUS BLACK
A POLITICIAN (THE BLACK CASE)
CLAIRE V ANE
BLACK ’S CONFIDANTE
PROFESSOR WICHTIG
A UNIVERSITY BLACK CASE)
ii
PROFESSOR
(THE
M ATT, LUKE , L AZARUS , W ICHTIG ’S STUDENTS (THE BLACK CASE) FENIA AND S YLVIA R ABBIT AND PEACOCK MURDER VICTIMS (THE RED CASE) SIMON AND NURSE CASE) IRONS
RABBIT ’S
M ARLENE BERRY
AN
EMPLOYEES
ECCENTRIC , WOMAN (T HE R ED
(THE
WEALTHY
HER MUCH OLDER HUSBAND
DIANA BERRY
LINUS ’ ADOPTED DAUGHTER
LUCY CASE)
A
COSTAS C ANLY
AN AUTOMOBILE MECHANIC DEBUTANTE CASE)
iii
YOUNG
CASE )
LINUS BERRY
PROSTITUTE
RED
(T HE
DEBUTANTE
(THE
LOVE, ROCK AND CRIME OCTOBER 2005 The two Johns, Little John and Gorgeous John, had been staking out Rose for a day. They had set up audio-visual surveillance in an apartment across the courtyard, just a few metres away from the business man’s office in the same building, which had large uncovered windows offering an excellent view. The labyrinthine office complex in the west of Athens had once been busy, but today, in 2005, it stood only half full. The two police officers observed the suspect through the blinds and recorded his calls. Rose was indulging in a marathon of telephone calls while steadily drinking. In the beginning, they tried to decipher his words, believing he was speaking in code, taking down suspicious phrases like: tall-broad, shortbroad, skinny-broad, spare-broad… At his constant repetition of “booty-count” they suspected they would return to their chief empty handed. It was afternoon. Rose’s employees were done for the day and the Johns were tired of his incessant telephone calls. They were melting in the unseasonable, for October, heat. The stale donuts and sweet soft drinks had upset their stomachs and they were yearning for a greasy hamburger. Just as they were about to leave, Savvas Kallinis appeared. The Chief’s pet had likely been sent to check up on them. Kallinis viewed these officers as a necessary evil, the kind that cannot be avoided in any job. Savvas knew he wasn’t liked. “Little” (read short) John despised him because he was 1.90m tall and people called him Stretch, while “Gorgeous” (actually ugly) John hated him because women found him attractive. There were other reasons they disliked Kallinis, the main one being that he was in charge of a Homicide unit, despite being quite young. And as if it weren’t enough that he was the chief’s favourite, he’d recently hit the jackpot in the lottery and purchased a BMW 1200 Adventure. Stretch entered in his customary domineering manner, cutting short their pleasantries. “Guys, get to the point,” he said sternly. The point was that although Rose was speaking slang, he was boasting about his sexual prowess. The two Johns had heard it all and tried to show off. Savvas interrupted them, pointing at the man who had just entered the office. “That’s Rose’s accountant,” said Gorgeous. :: Bang! The police officers saw Rose hang up the phone. He set down his whiskey glass, got up from the leather armchair and approached his accountant, threatening him about “the 100,000 lost in transport”. The more the employee defended himself, the louder his boss became. He staggered to the aquarium, opened the cupboard beside it, in which a safe was concealed, pulled out a Colt and pointed it between his accountant’s eyes. Spitting with fury, he grabbed him by the tie with his free hand and clicked off the safety. While the employee was trying to avoid the gun and his boss was struggling to stay on target, the muzzle of the Colt moved and BANG, it went off in Rose’s temple. The accountant let go of his arm and Rose fell down, dead. The Colt dropped from his hand and landed nearby. Blood pooled around his head, delineating death. The accountant hesitated for a moment. He walked to the dead man’s personal washroom, washed his face, wiped the blood drops off his shoes, removed his shirt and returned to the office. He took a clean shirt from his wardrobe and put it on, wrapping his own in a sheet of newspaper. For a while he stood in the office, biting his nails and looking around. His gaze fell on a green tennis bag. He unhooked it from the coat rack, dumped out the contents in the wardrobe and started filling it with cash from the safe. “Let’s go,” ordered Savvas.
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:: Laundered Cash With bag in hand and wrapped shirt tucked under his arm, the scrawny accountant went to exit the office. He drew back the heavy door and was taken aback at the sight of the three policemen who asked him to explain the shot. His thoughts churning, he led them back to Rose’s office. As they were passing through reception, he set the bag down behind a chair. “Take it with you if it’s yours,” said Stretch. The accountant held the bag tightly against him. His mind was working overtime. While they examined the still warm body, he described hearing the shot from the accounting department. “He went through with it,” he said, stating that he had found his boss dead. “He recently started saying, “I feel like blowing my brains out” because of money troubles.” He then whined that he had young children and didn’t want to get involved in matters that didn’t concern him. Savvas asked him to unfold the newspaper. When the shirt had been laid out, he explained to him that the blood splatter placed him opposite the victim when the shot was fired. The accountant did not speak. When asked to open the bag, he blurted out accounting terms. “Here’s what I think happened,” said Savvas. “Rose was going to fire you because you had been embezzling money. You quarrelled. You killed him, emptied the safe…” “You won’t be seeing your children for years,” said Gorgeous, who delighted in bullying the weak. While Savvas was informing his superiors by phone, Gorgeous took down the gaunt accountant’s information: Matthew Hurt, aged 44, married, two underage children, etc. Little cuffed him, speculating on the time he would serve in jail. Hurt could tell they were particularly interested in his employer by the questions they were asking. Thinking he could make a deal, he launched into a complicated story about some laundered money he had recently transported to Rose. He admitted that they had been arguing about 100,000 Euro, which his boss insisted was missing, claiming he didn’t know how much money was being moved, and hadn’t realised that funds had been stolen. He then complained about his employer’s unjust accusations, changed tack and begged for compassion. He apologised for the “misappropriation” of funds from the safe, asking for mercy, given that Rose did not have a family and the money had not been received “legally”. “Don’t you see, it was an accident,” he said of the fatal shooting. Savvas said he wanted to believe the accountant but his story was shaky. “What kind of laundered money was being transferred? For whom and why? How much time you serve is up to you. Think of your children,” he continued, offering a reduced sentence for information. He was interrupted by a beautiful woman. First he heard her voice calling out to Rose, then her shapely form came into view. She started at the sight of the body, let out a short scream and turned to leave. Savvas stopped her. He showed her his identification and asked about the contents of her backpack. She took a step back, her blue-green eyes darkening at the prospect of a pat-down search by Little. But Little was not to have the pleasure as he was waved away by Savvas. The woman did not have an ID. She claimed that her name was Avra Nessou and that she worked at the Ambrosia Restaurant. She had 100,000 Euro, a change purse, a Swiss army knife and her house keys in her backpack. “Do you know each other?” Savvas asked them. They did not. Their denial was confirmed by their body language. Oddly enough, the accountant was not concerned about the source of the 100,000 in her possession, asking only that the handcuffs be removed. But Savvas was consumed by the woman’s beauty. His view of her gorgeous eyes was ruined by a show of power from the 1.60m Little, who circled the 1.80m stunning woman, firing off aggressive questions. She reacted calmly, saying her only connection to the deceased was the loan she was returning to him. “Do I look stupid?” snarled Little John, grinding his teeth.
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Avra Nessou made the mistake of looking at him straight in the eyes, unafraid. She crossed her arms over her chest, indicating that she was finished with him. Savvas seemed to agree, which Little took as a personal affront. Jason, who was Savvas’ right hand man and very similar in style to his superior, arrived before nightfall. The two men withdrew to discuss the situation. Wanting to get rid of the two Johns, they foisted the standard procedures on them. Savvas wrapped the 100,000 Euro in some paper and added it to the money in the tennis bag saying, for Nessou’s ears as she was watching him with interest, that it was to be sent to the “lab for processing”. It was clear that he would not reveal to her that untraceable money usually landed in their pockets. He then asked them to accompany him to Police Headquarters. While they were getting into Jason’s Nissan, Savvas placed the tennis bag in the boot. Before getting onto his BMW, he approached Avra Nessou in the back seat, flashed his best smile and asked what perfume she was wearing. “White tea,” she replied, annoyed. She found the whole situation fishy: the bloody shirt, lack of crime scene investigators, the accountant’s words, “So, I’m free to go?” and the fact that he was still in handcuffs. It seemed that the tall, mean and ugly policemen were playing games. By the time they arrived at Headquarters, she had got the gist of the situation thanks to Hurt running off his mouth. She noted that the tennis bag had been left in the boot of Jason’s Nissan but she was only interested in removing herself from the situation. :: At Headquarters Savvas Kallinis’ team was comprised of Jason, Peter, Paul, Stephen, Titus and the Shrimp. The Shrimp was the oldest at 40 and Savvas the youngest, being 30 years old. The Johns were ordered to stay with the team until the case was closed, because their Chief’s confidential informant had accused Rose of murder, arms trafficking, prostitution and other “petty crimes”. The chief had assigned the case to Savvas, who sent Stephen and Titus to the deceased’s office and Peter and Paul to his residence. “Innocence is checked at the door when you enter Police Headquarters”, chanted the Shrimp. The rest of the team had nicknamed the division “Devil’s Pass”. The truth of the matter was that people were not brought to Headquarters on a whim. Hurt was “a person of interest” and Nessou had not had ID on her. Stretch decided not to hold her any longer. He ordered the Shrimp to send her home, but was informed that she was already in the charge of Little John, who had just arrived. Savvas hastened to the interrogation room. He opened the door just as Little slapped her - and not for the first time, judging by her burning cheeks. “The bitch is guilty. She didn’t ask for a lawyer,” said Little, as he exited the room in a fury. “Who ordered you to interrogate her by yourself?’ asked Savvas in a low voice, and opening the door he said to her, “You may leave.” Avra Nessou rose. She bypassed a glaring Little and walked towards the exit. “Right,” murmured Savvas thoughtfully as he watched her shapely exit. He called the Shrimp and ordered him to follow her. “Sexy lady!” said the Shrimp licking his lips, “She looks like…” “Get a move on,” said Savvas sternly. If Stretch had accompanied her as he briefly considered doing, things may have turned out differently. Avra Nessou walked out into the damp night, looking for a taxi. She recognised Jason’s Nissan parked in the next alley. She looked up. The burnt out street lamp was winking at her. Yes! Revenge seemed in order after the way she had been treated. :: A Stranger The interrogation of the accountant had stalled; it appeared he was unable to think. To switch things up, Jason decided to send him back to Rose’s office to help Stephen with the search. Hurt asked to call his wife before leaving. Beads of sweat gathered on his brow as he dialled the number. Her screams trumped
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his explanations. He waited for her to take a breath to voice the words that would give her pause. “ROSE DIED,” he finally managed to say and explained the situation - that is to say, he lied to her. His request to bid his children goodnight was refused. After Hurt left, Jason went to report to Savvas. The accountant had changed his story. According to his new statement, his employer sent him to several cafés every two months, where he picked up a bag left by a stranger. He did not know how much money he was moving or anything else about it. “He keeps repeating this over and over again,” said Jason, adding that Rose had bet that he “would stick it to Avra of the Ambrosia. But he probably hadn’t as he was sure to have bought a round of drinks, announcing the lucky girl’s name.” “It’s Rose’s crimes we’re interested in,” said Savvas. “Whose money is he laundering, and why? I suspect there is someone the accountant is more frightened of than us.” “He is terrified of his wife,” said Jason. “Right,” answered Savvas. :: A Sleepless Night Rose’s luxurious seaside flat was decorated with expensive furnishings and bold colour combinations. Several autographed photographs of women were scattered round, apparently feeding his libido, as did a series of coloured notebooks labelled “Conquests” found in the bookcase. In these he listed his sexual partners, details of sexual acts and vices. Deciding to take a break, Paul opened one of them, cleared his throat and began to read while Peter stretched out in an armchair, listening. There was no hurry; they were in for a sleepless night. Jim Whitebrow, Savvas’ commander whose nickname was “Chief”, was also in for a sleepless night. His rest was interrupted by the fantasy of a hugely successful mission. This is what he was counting on Savvas Kallinis, who was under the wing of the “higher-ups”, to bring about. The Commander of the police had installed him in the division, which Whitebrow greatly appreciated when he realised how skilled Stretch was. This was why he had been able to send Savvas abroad for training twice and later assign him his own team. Although this may have raised some eyebrows in askance, due to the fact that he was much younger than other team leaders, the Chief was only concerned with results. He permitted him to select his own associates and Savvas chose young men, others referred to as “rookies”. As their leader, Stretch imposed his own system, and would not tolerate disobedience… For these reasons, he was known as Zeus, a name that also implied his sexual prowess. The chief often assigned him the “impossible” cases, in addition to several “trivial” ones. However, the fact that the “head rookie” had never served in uniform and his team was highly successful made his colleagues in the Division jealous. :: The Confidential Informant It was late Tuesday night and Savvas was still at the Devil’s Pass. His shoulders were as stiff as concrete and his muscles like steel; he was overtired. He drank an instant coffee and felt worse. Although he had been refused twice, he again asked the identity of the confidential informant. This time Whitebrow named Pin. Luke Pin? The annoyed head rookie raced to Rose’s office, where the rookies were sifting through each piece of paper. The accountant sat beside them, as pale as a corpse. “Do you know Luke Pin?” growled Savvas. “Don’t believe a word he told you”, answered Hurt, with spit gathering in the corner of his mouth. “He worked in the warehouse, that is to say, he was stealing from the warehouse. Rose caught him and slapped him around, grabbed an iron pipe, stripped him, and beat him until he was dripping with blood.” “Right,” murmured Savvas and turned as if to leave, pausing at Titus’ loud coughing. “Tomorrow you should go to the doctor,” he told him. The homeless, drug addicts, prostitutes and scumbags were slipping into the midnight shadows. Savvas arrived at the informant’s neighbourhood and identified his block of flats. He entered through the decrepit door, climbed the rickety stairs and rang the bell labelled Lucky. As the door opened slowly, the stench of
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alcohol and urine turned Stretch’s stomach. He pushed the door into Luke’s unshaven face and he howled in pain. Blood dripped from his nose onto the greasy floor. The head rookie dragged him to the kitchen, snatched up a knife smeared with mayonnaise and roared, “You’ll be found in pieces tomorrow.” Luke immediately confessed that he had fingered Rose out of revenge. “Rose is no saint. He doesn’t get his cash from church,” Luke whined. “Right,” whispered Savvas, dragging his fingers through his hair. So much for the informant. Many hours and men had been wasted searching for something that did not exist. Was it a coincidence or did someone have it in for the Chief? Savvas would have liked to shout at him. Fortunately Peter, who was already searching Rose’s summer villa, called at that very moment.
* Wednesday Savvas arrived at Rose’s villa at dawn. He climbed off the BMW and stamped his feet on the marble stairs at the entrance. Peter greeted him with a glass of grappa. “The Chief is in for a windfall,” he said. Office, home and villa all bore the stamp of the same decorator, who had modified his client’s orders to 2 create an impression. In short, Rose had a Jacuzzi, gym, pool, squash court, and in the basement: a 5m secret safe room fitted with steel sheets, which contained the spoils of crime. Suddenly things had taken a turn. “Good thing I didn’t bawl out the Chief,” reflected Savvas and ordered complete confidentiality. :: The Chicago Case At 9.00 am, after a sleepless night, he reported to Whitebrow’s office, with “promising” news. He couldn’t resist getting a jab in about the informant: “We were looking for one thing and found another, Chief.” Whitebrow furrowed his thick eyebrows over his nose in the shape of a T when he heard Savvas linking the “Chicago” case with Rose. “Chicago” was the name the press had given the 6 unsolved robberies over the course of six years, in which two night watchmen had been killed and a record haul, in terms of local crime, had been stolen. They knew now that one of the night watchmen had been shot with a gun from Rose’s stash. The evidence retrieved from the secret safe room tied him to the robberies but did not reveal the identity of the other robbers. It was, of course, too early to draw conclusions. The accountant was most certainly unaware of Rose’s foray into burglary and Savvas wanted to keep the details of Rose’s death under wraps for the moment. The Chief frowned, his brows now forming a Y with his nose. But Savvas insisted on “Suicide or murder? Still under investigation.” “Don’t forget that the robbers have been inactive for the past 22 months,” he said, and ignoring his Chief’s eyebrows, explained that he was counting on the possibility that they had fallen out with each other. If they didn’t link “Chicago” with Rose and didn’t rule out suicide, one of the robbers might make a mistake, suspecting an internal cleanse. He finished up with the decision that the investigation be divided into sections so that only the two of them would be aware of the entire picture. “Don’t you want the glory?” he asked his Chief sweetly. His chief’s eyebrows signalled his agreement with a W. :: What Bags? Returning to his office, Savvas called the Shrimp, or as he liked to think of him “Sean Penn’s ringer”. When they were both between girlfriends, they used to go to the cinema together and had developed a face recognition code based on actor’s roles. When, for example, they said that someone was moving like Jessica Rabbit or that the Chief was Groucho Marx, no further description was required. The rest of the rookies complained about these unfamiliar handles. Today, the Shrimp looked guilty.
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“The chick was fast on her feet,” he said, referring to the surveillance of Nessou. “She came out of the alley, crossed the street, hailed a taxi and threw the bags into the back seat… Christ, Zeus, the broad has one hell of a body on her…” “What bags?” asked Savvas. “A green tennis bag and a…” Stretch ran to Jason. “Did you take the bag from the…?” “Didn’t you take it? … What? Did it fly away?” “I want a full report on Nessou,” said Savvas. “Don’t tell me we were hoodwinked by Nessou!” “… and her crappy restaurant…” “Zeus, “Ambrosia” is the most expensive restaurant in the country.” “Yes, I know. It’s a posh place frequented by bluebloods.” :: Zeus, the Rookies and Lily The rookies shared four nondescript desks with equally offensive chairs and drawers completing the uninspiring picture. Their relatively large space fed into a temporary divider, forming a supplementary Lilliputian office. On the door hung a sign reading “Entrance to Lily”, as the Stretch’s private corner was called. The rookies were not only the youngest in their unit, but were thought to be the most sexual team, as statistically they received the most female visitors. The Chief believed that the married members of the team would influence the bachelors to settle down, but he was most probably on his own with this theory. Proof of this was Rose’s notebooks, which would have become bestsellers had they not been locked up by Savvas. After bawling them out, he retreated to Lily with a single notebook, to draw his own conclusions. “He kept the best for himself,” whispered Titus to Peter. “Rose had bimbos for breakfast, lunch and dinner,” Peter chortled. “Let me see, let me see,” exclaimed the Shrimp taking the picture of Rose. “Aahh, Jimmy Smits, right, Zeus?” “Cut the crap,” the others yelled together before turning to tease Stella, who had appeared in the open doorway. Stella worked in Records. She had a crush on Savvas and was considered to be the best-informed person in the Division in matters of life style and gossip. It was a miracle that she ever found time for filing as she was always wandering from department to department gathering a variety of information. “Welcome, Julia Roberts,” said the Shrimp, and waving the picture of Rose, asked for her opinion. “He’s cute. He looks like Savvas,” she said, setting a piece of homemade pie on the head rookie’s desk. “The road to Zeus’ heart is below the belt,” drawled Titus. “What do you know about Magda Thompson?” asked the head rookie after thanking her. It was Stella’s chance to help out her crush. She told him everything she knew about Magda, current wife of shipping magnate Michael Chalmers and according to Rose’s notebooks, his one true love. Three years earlier she had been a top model - now “she was pretending to be a lady”. She was a “supposed” beauty who had had several facelifts, liposuction, Botox… “A silicone woman,” said Savvas, humouring her. “Any scandals?” But Stella hadn’t read of any scandals. Five minutes after she left, Rennie from the switchboard appeared. “We got the news from someone else,” said Titus dismissively.
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“Welcome, Tilda Swinton,” exclaimed the Shrimp, showing her Rose’s picture. “Do you like him?” “Yes,” she said, puckering her lips. “He looks like Savvas.” “Does everyone look like Savvas?” hissed Stephen. “They do if you have the hots for him,” retorted Peter, joking about the “weird” women in their division. This is how the rookies wiled away their short breaks. After gently getting rid of Rennie, Savvas returned to Lily to peruse Rose’s notebooks. His concentration was broken by Jason, who wanted to know what had happened to the cash. “Not now,” murmured Savvas, and showed him Magda’s photo. “Aahh, Monica Bellucci,” said Jason, his eyes shining. “The beauty’s name is Magda, and she was Rose’s one great love. He was quite lyrical about her…” “You mean he would call her kitten not pussy?” “As lyrical as an ordinary Joe can be.” “If he’s so ordinary, why don’t I get it?” “Because you’re too married.” ~
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