A Deadly Twist, Jeffrey Siger [top business books of all time TXT] 📗

Details pointing fingers at mobsters, private citizens, and government officials he claimed had retained him to target competitors, enemies, colleagues, and spouses. If true, every one of his clients had a reason to want Nikoletta silenced.

But her other notebooks suggested a different sort of suspect, one unrelated to him or his kills, yet with a definite motive for keeping her from publishing her second story. The players ranged from big-money developers to activists to uncompromising fanatics. Nikoletta’s plans for laying bare the bad intentions and hidden agendas she saw as stoking a looming, pitched battle over the island’s future would not endear her to many.

But enough to kill her?

Yianni leaned back in his chair and stretched. With all the crazies in this world, he wasn’t about to play psychiatrist and eliminate any potential suspect. He’d simply assume the worst and say a prayer that it wasn’t too late for Nikoletta.

On that thought, he looked at his watch. It was nearly one in the morning. He hadn’t eaten a thing since a quick bite with Dimitri on their way up to the museum. He thought to call Andreas and report on what he’d read since they’d spoken shortly before midnight, but it was late and he’d didn’t have much more to say than he’d already told him. Too many suspects, too many divergent motives. He’d call first thing in the morning. Tomorrow would be a busy day. Make that, today will be a busy day. He should get to bed, but before retracing Nikoletta’s every step, he needed something to eat.

* * *

The path from the museum down to the harbor was a mix of stone steps and inclines, but all well lighted. There was life on the old town’s winding streets, not surprising what with it being tourist season. Yianni had no trouble finding the bar where Nikoletta had held her interview, and though its kitchen was closed, a man Yianni took to be the owner offered to microwave a frozen pizza.

Yianni sat sipping a beer when the owner returned with the pizza in one hand and a fresh-made Greek salad in the other. “I thought, what kind of a host would I be if I didn’t at least offer you a salad?”

Yianni smiled. “You’re too kind. I never expected this.”

“You don’t like salad?”

“No, I meant this is very generous of you. Thank you.”

“I always try remembering that hospitality shows respect not just for my customers but for what I do every day of my life to earn my living. That was a lesson passed on to me by my father.” He crossed himself.

Yianni studied the man, who looked fit, in his late forties, taller than Yianni, but wiry, with a broad round face, a three-day beard, uncombed more than tousled hair, and the sort of close-set, dark eyes that suggested feral intensity.

Yianni extended his right hand. “My name is Yianni.”

The man shook it. “Stelios. Welcome to this little bit of heaven.”

“It’s a lovely setting. You must get a lot of business.”

The man nodded. “Yes, business has been very good. Puh, puh, puh.”

Yianni picked up a piece of pizza and took a bite.

Stelios started to turn away. “I’ll leave you to eat in peace.”

“No, please. Join me.” Yianni pointed to the chair across from him. “No reason for me to eat alone, assuming you don’t need to be doing something else.”

Stelios sat. “No, the bartender has everything under control. The few customers remaining are just sipping drinks and basking in the notoriety of the place.”

Yianni saw his opening. “Notoriety?”

“You didn’t know?”

“Know what?” Yianni feigned ignorance.

“That reporter, the one who wrote a story about a mysterious computer guy she met in a bar, she met him here.”

“Really?”

“Yes, they were sitting at that table behind you, in the window.”

Yianni turned and looked at the table, then turned back to face Stelios. “How long were they here?”

“Two, three hours.”

Yianni turned around to look at the table again. “What were they like?”

“He talked; she took notes. And before you ask, I never heard a word they said.”

“Why do you think I would ask?”

“Because everyone asks me that.”

“I guess that’s only natural, but I’d also think it only natural for you not to admit you’d overheard anything, even if you had.”

Stelios smiled. “Considering what the newspaper said they talked about, I think you’re right.”

Yianni nodded. “So, what did he look like?”

“I’m not good at remembering faces.”

“Another wise trait. Though probably not a good one for a bar owner.”

Stelios smiled again. “Don’t worry, I’ll remember yours. So, what has you over here on Naxos? Are you on holiday?”

Yianni reached into the front of his shirt and pulled out his ID on a lanyard around his neck. “Nope, I’m a detective with Greece’s Special Crimes Unit.” He took another bite of the pizza.

Stelios’s face blanched. “I guess I’ve already said too much.”

Yianni gave a quick upward jerk of his head. “Not at all.” He took a taste of the Greek salad. “This is terrific. I particularly like the touch of oregano.”

Stelios’s face constricted, and he bit at his lip.

Yianni took another bite. “Tasty.”

Stelios started to stand. “I’ve really got some work I should be doing.”

Yianni nodded “no” again. “Stay. I like your company.”

Stelios slunk into the chair. “Honest, I heard not a word.”

“So, what did he look like?”

“I told you, I—”

“Would you like a piece of pizza?”

“No, I—”

“How about at least a bit of feta?”

“No, I—”

“Then how about a bit of truth serum?” Yianni slid his beer across the table to Stelios.

“He was a tall man, slim, with dark hair, but it could have been a wig. His eyes were intense. My guess is he’s from one of those Scandinavian countries, maybe Iceland, but from the little I heard him say, he spoke perfect Greek without any trace of an accent.”

“Anything else?”

“A big smile, I mean a really big smile.”

“You said he was tall. How tall?”

“A little taller than I.”

“When did he come into the bar?”

“Right after the woman sat down at the table.”

“Did they know each