A Deadly Twist Jeffrey Siger (book recommendations txt) 📖

“Whatever it is, it’s not a lasting influence, because by the time they’re fully grown they’ve learned it’s every man for himself.”

“You’re one hell of a cynic.”

“As if you’re not.”

Andreas shook his head from side to side. “Just enjoy the moment.”

Ring, ring.

“So much for the moment.”

“This could be the call we’re waiting for.” Andreas pulled his phone out of his pocket. “It’s Dimitri.” He held the phone so Tassos could hear.

“Hi, what’s up?”

“We found Honeyman.”

“Terrific, where is he?”

“Not sure right now, but when my cops found him he was facedown at the bottom of an abandoned quarry, with one end of a rope tied around his neck and the other end tied to a slab of marble.”

“Oh, shit.” So he never made it off Naxos.

“It’s not clear yet when he died, but hikers saw him late this afternoon. As far as we can tell, he and his slab were tossed off the top of the quarry a hundred meters or so above where they found him.”

“What are the chances it’s a suicide?” said Andreas.

“I can think of a lot less terrifying ways than a header off the top of a cliff with your neck lashed to a slab of marble. Besides, his hands were tied behind his back.”

“Well, at least this one wasn’t staged to look like an accident.”

“Is that good or bad?” said Tassos. “It could mean that whoever’s behind this is now desperate enough to use amateurs to eliminate loose ends.”

“The question is, was our mastermind desperate enough to step out of the shadows in order to take out Honeyman?” Andreas paused. “Hmm…if someone from Naxos killed Honeyman, what do you think the chances are that Honeyman knew who killed him?”

“Pretty good,” said Dimitri. “It could have been the same guys he’d sent after Yianni and Popi. Wouldn’t that be poetic justice?”

“If they’re locals known to Honeyman, would they be known to you too?” asked Andreas.

“If they’re the blunt, slash-and-burn sort of bad guys who bounce in and out of prison and not some sophisticated pro like Nikoletta’s, I’d say the chances are pretty good.”

“Well, then, to quote one of my favorite movies, I think it’s time we rounded up the usual suspects.”

* * *

With an assist from GPS and a call to Dimitri, Andreas and Tassos found their way back to Honeyman’s house. It was close to midnight, but lights were on inside the house, and as the car rocked its way along the old donkey path, a uniformed cop stepped out of the house, trained a light on their car, and waved for them to park next to another marked cruiser.

Once inside, the cop told them it was his partner’s turn to keep an eye on the beehives while he watched the empty house. He complained about how this extended guard duty detail was already straining the Filoti Police station’s ability to provide normal coverage to large areas of the island. Andreas assured him that the Ministry of Culture had promised to take possession of the items in the beehives on Monday.

The cop looked at his watch and pointed out that, as of two minutes ago, it was Monday.

Andreas smiled and told him to go hang out with his partner if he wanted to, because he and Tassos had some reading to do.

Andreas took Honeyman’s ledger from its shelf in the kitchen and set it on the table. He carefully read through the ledger sheets, jotting down each set of initials, hoping to find a clue to someone’s identity. He found six sets of initials—JSS, GTS, AKS, KSM, RIM, and BZ—but no clues or key to the abbreviations. A handful of beehives had apparently been hiding treasures for almost two and a half decades. Over ensuing years, other beehives came online, until every beehive had replaced its bees with antiquities. It looked like Honeyman had started off small and expanded his business significantly. A regular entrepreneur.

Andreas shook his head. “The same initials listed twenty-five years ago are listed in the new entries.”

“I’ve heard that honey prolongs life.”

Andreas waved off Tassos’s attempt at humor. “Honeyman’s clients didn’t just show up one day and say, ‘Hi, I have pilfered antiquities I’d like for you to hide in your beehives.’ I’d bet my pension they’ve been involved in antiquities trafficking for a lot longer than Honeyman’s run his business.”

“Your pension? That’s not much of a bet, but I still wouldn’t take it.”

“If I’m right, then there must be others who worked with Honeyman’s clients before they came to him, which means there could be people out there who know the names tied to those initials. We just have to figure out how to find them.”

“Assuming they’re still alive.” Tassos yawned.

“Getting a bit tired, are we?”

“It’s been a long day.”

“I’m feeling it myself. I must be getting older.”

“With every passing day. My gardening keeps me young. That and chasing bad guys.”

“Perhaps I should become a farmer,” said Andreas.

“You could do worse, and no better place to learn than Naxos.”

Andreas sat up in the chair. “That old farmer in Siphones. The one you know. He was with his son and grandson the afternoon Yianni and Popi were attacked.”

“He’s still perky enough to teach you a few things, I guess.” Tassos yawned again.

Andreas smacked his hand on the table. “Stop that before you get me to yawning. If anyone knows who belongs to these initials, it’s the grandfather. You told me he’s been involved in antiquities smuggling on Naxos since before the Junta.”

“But didn’t his son say he’s senile?”

“That’s a convenient way to keep people from bothering him, but it doesn’t mean he is. I think Yianni, you, and I better pay him a visit first thing in the morning.”

“For a farmer, that’s dawn.”

“Okay, let’s say nine.”

“But that doesn’t give us much time if the newspaper’s going public with the story at noon. If that happens, we’ll go from the few on Naxos who are aware and the many here who suspect she’s disappeared, to all of Greece knowing she’s vanished and