A Deadly Twist Jeffrey Siger (book recommendations txt) 📖

“What sort of dirt?”

“Who’s corrupt, who are the big players behind development efforts, and what sorts of things they’re doing to get their way. She also wanted to know about anyone I knew who was against development and what they were willing to do to stop it.”

“What did you tell her?”

“The truth. There’s corruption all across Greece. This place is better than most. Same thing with development. Places change; people move on. Just look around you.” He waved his hand. “Grandfather was born here, but everyone’s moved away. This place died, a new place somewhere else was born. It’s part of the cycle of life.”

Yianni stared at the man. “What’s your name?”

“People call me Junior.”

“Mine’s Yianni. The thing is, Junior, I’ve heard you’re not too happy with what’s happening on your island. That foreign investors are coming to ruin Naxos, and you’re all in for doing whatever it takes to see that doesn’t happen.”

Junior shrugged. “I don’t know who’d have told you that, but I’m just a simple farmer. What do I know about foreign investors?”

“You live on an island where for millennia its people have lived under the domination and control of foreigners. Everywhere you look are reminders of that history. So, please don’t bullshit me by saying you have no opinion on foreign investors threatening to occupy your island.”

Junior glared and clenched his fists. “Are you calling me a liar?”

Yianni looked him straight in the eyes. “No, I’m calling you a bullshitter.”

For an instant neither man moved or blinked.

Junior smiled. “Okay, that name I can accept.”

Yianni returned the smile. “So, what did you tell her?”

“What I thought would impress her.”

“I don’t follow.”

“Look, let’s be realistic. I’m a bit old to be running around with those revolutionary types on the mainland tossing Molotov cocktails at what they see as symbols of their enemies. But I could tell she was looking for just that sort of angle for some story she was writing about farmers versus developers. So I made myself seem like a revolutionary.”

“But why would you do that?”

“I may be too old to run around with revolutionaries but not too old to want to get into their pants.”

Yianni felt certain his jaw had dropped. “Are you saying you slept with the reporter?”

Junior gestured no. “I tried my best routine—even tossed in a line about how the European Union with its memoranda has been occupying our country for a decade. But none of that worked. She took my story and took off. Didn’t even accept my offer of sharing a bottle of homemade wine.”

Nikoletta had left that bit about her afternoon out of her notebook. Perhaps because as a Greek woman she was used to that sort of approach from the men she met.

“But I heard that a group of you told her you’d burn down the foreigners’ projects if necessary.”

Junior smiled. “You heard right. More Molotov cocktail talk. The group you heard about was me, my son, and my father. I’ll let you decide whether Grandpa could have agreed on anything. As for my son, he’s bright for sure, but as you’ve seen, he goes along with what his father says.”

Yianni burst out laughing. “What is it about Greek men that leads them to think they have a chance with every woman?”

“I don’t know, but why do you think my son wandered off with Popi when he was having such a good time tormenting you?”

Yianni turned to look for Popi. She was nowhere to be seen.

“Don’t worry. She’s in no danger. Aside from her having a gun and a husband who could lift a bull, my son’s a gentleman. It’s just the thought of the possibility that makes men vulnerable to a woman’s charms.”

Yianni yelled out her name.

“Besides, Popi was raised on a farm among four brothers and learned how to handle men by watching them grow up making fools of themselves. Something we all seem to do from time to time.”

Yianni saw Popi walking toward them with son and Grandpa in tow.

“See, I told you there was nothing to worry about.”

Yianni hesitated. “Perhaps you could answer another question for me?”

“I’ll try.”

“Is there a way to get back up onto the road other than going through the culvert?”

“Yeah, head up the hillside below the monument and over the wire fencing. That will get you back on the road.”

“Thanks.”

“No problem. Just one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“Be careful of the snakes in the brush if you go that way.”

* * *

Yianni grudgingly admitted to Popi that a few seconds’ scoot through the culvert beat three minutes of not knowing what lay ahead of you in the underbrush.

Safely back in the pickup, he checked his phone for messages and saw one from Andreas telling him they only had until Monday noon before the whole world knew Nikoletta was missing. He called back, and when put into voicemail, left a brief message describing his interview with the Siphones boys.

“Everything okay?” Popi asked.

“Just routine stuff.” He put his phone back in his pocket. “Before I forget, thanks for steering the son away from his father so I could speak to him alone. You did well, Officer.”

“Thank you. I know the son. In fact, I know the whole family. The father sometimes hunts with my husband.”

“That explains how he knew so much about your background.”

“Hunting gives hunters a lot of time to talk among themselves. Sometimes too much time.”

“He only told me good things, such as how your growing up among four brothers taught you to deal with Greek men.”

“I wouldn’t say that I’m fully up to speed on the intricacies of what makes them tick, but being the only sister had its advantages, even if I didn’t appreciate them at the time.”

“Meaning?”

“I was the baby of the family, so my brothers called me Runt, as in runt of the litter.”

“Ouch. That must have hurt.”

“But woe be unto anyone else who dared call me that or messed with me. My brothers were very protective. Too protective at times. They still tease