Jeffrey Siger_Andreas Kaldis 02 Read Online Free

reminded him of what cost him his father.
    “It’s inside.” Maggie pulled the paper out of his hands, turned to the appropriate page and gave it back to him. “The boy’s picture is here.”
    Andreas and Kouros looked to where she pointed. There he was, among photographs of members of the two families. One picture of a pretty girl had an “x” through it. The caption below the photo said “Whacked” and gave the link to a website.
    “What’s this?” he asked Maggie.
    Kouros answered. “She’s the granddaughter of the publisher of The Athenian . She was caught on a cell phone camera doing two guys at the same time in a public toilet at a club in Gazi. That’s a link to the video.”
    He wanted to ask how Yianni knew so much about it but decided not to ask. He probably was the only one in the room, perhaps all of Athens, who hadn’t seen it. Andreas sat quietly for a moment staring at the paper, then let out a deep breath. “All hell’s going to break loose when this gets out. Surprised it hasn’t already. Better get media affairs ready.”
    “I’ll take care of it,” said Maggie.
    “Yianni, get a home address on the kid’s family. We have to get over there before someone in the coroner’s office recognizes the kid and tips off the press.” He didn’t bother to mention the number of cops who’d like to pick up the money for such a tip.
    Kouros left. Andreas turned in his chair and stared at the chart. He wished he could break the news to the family by phone; that way you didn’t have to see their grief, feel it, let it get to you. But this wasn’t the sort of thing you could do like that. At least he couldn’t. He remembered the day he learned his father had killed himself…Andreas tore away from the thought. He waved at the chart. “Maggie, find a new place for some of this stuff. We have to make room.” A lot of room.
    ***
    If you lived in Athens’ northern suburb of Old Psychiko, people were impressed. At least that’s what many of its residents hoped. Just north of Athens and west of Kifissias Avenue, it was a refuge of peace, greenery, and high walls for foreign embassies, exclusive private schools, and the upper echelon of Athenian society. A few nearby neighborhoods and one or two to the south might claim to be as tony, but none would dare argue to be greater.
    Psychiko’s confusing array of one-way streets, winding every which way about its tree-lined slopes and hills, was designed that way for a reason: to keep out the casual passersby. But it hadn’t worked as well on the new money crowd. They flocked to the neighborhood, sending prices through the roof for houses they often tore down to build grander homes than their neighbors’. Among long-time residents, you’d be hard pressed to find anyone happy with the changes to their neighborhood. Until it came time to sell, of course.
    Kouros knew how to get to Psychiko; his trouble was finding a way to get to the house. They passed the same kiosk twice trying to find the correct connecting road to the one-way street they were looking for.
    “Screw it,” said Andreas. “Turn up here,” pointing at a DO NOT ENTER sign marking the end of the street they wanted.
    About a quarter-mile up the road, an eight-foot-high, white concrete-stucco wall ran for about one hundred feet along the right side of the street. A ten-foot-high, black wrought iron gate stood midway along the wall. The gate’s leaf-and-tendril design was so tightly spaced not even a cat could squeeze through.
    They parked outside the gate, and Kouros walked to the intercom on the wall by the left side of the gate. He identified himself and held his police ID up to the camera. They were buzzed in and made their way along a stone path winding around closely planted eucalyptus, lemon, bougainvillea, and oleander shielding the house from the gate. Andreas thought a lot of care must go into this place. A man waited for them outside the front door. He asked to see their