When the Devil's Idle by Leta Serafim Page A

confided. “She
told me she was lonely and asked her mother to come for a visit.
Eighteen months, it’s been.” His voice grew unsteady. “Eighteen
months and she’s still here.”
    Patronas nodded
sympathetically. “A long time, eighteen months.”
    No wonder
Evangelos Demos was so useless. Living with those two warrior women
had wrecked him, taken his manhood and rendered him a
steer.
    “ They
said in Athens this case was a chance for me to redeem myself. Get
my old job back.”
    “ You
said you cleared it with Stathis about me coming here.”
    “ Oh,
yes. He said and I quote, ‘It was a stroke of genius summoning
him.’ ”
    “ You’re kidding.”
    “ That’s what he said.”
    “ Let
him say what he wants. I’m nothing, Evanglos. Just a broken-down
old cop, waiting for his pension.” He flicked his cigarette out the
window. “You can’t depend on me.”
    “ You
caught that killer on Chios, didn’t you? You didn’t give up even
after you got hurt. You never give up.”
    “ I
give up sometimes.” Patronas was thinking of his marriage as he
said this, how he’d just taken his suitcase and left without a word
of farewell.
    “ Not
you. That’s why I called you. You’re a better cop than I am.” His
colleague’s voice was wistful. “A better cop than I’ll ever be. The
best cop I know.”
    Poor Evangelos,
putting his faith in him. It was the equivalent of boarding the
Lusitania.
    If things didn’t
work out, his colleague would be stuck on Patmos for the rest of
his professional life, Sophia and his mother-in-law riding him day
and night; his suffering would be like Job’s.
    Patronas looked
out at the night. Maybe he should give Evangelos the name of his
divorce lawyer.
    Or better yet,
solve the case.
     
    The hotel was in
Hochlakas, the westernmost section of the port of Skala. The town
bridged a narrow isthmus of land, and Patronas could hear the surf
pounding in the distance, the coast here being far less protected
than the area to the east where the harbor and tourist sites were
located. There was a children’s playground across the street from
the hotel, the metal swings and slide sparkling in their
newness.
    The room was
tidy, with three single beds and a rickety desk. The orange
curtains and bedspreads had faded over time to a muddy yellow, as
had the threadbare carpeting, making Patronas feel like he was
trapped inside a bottle of mustard. The shower consisted of a
handheld faucet over a hole in the floor, and the toilet was the
old-fashioned kind, with a metal box high overhead and a length of
rusty chain. It took forever to refill once flushed, which would
pose a problem once Papa Michalis and Giorgos Tembelos arrived. The
room’s one saving grace was the small balcony that overlooked the
children’s playground and beyond it, the sea.
    A woman named
Antigone Balis owned the hotel and said she’d include breakfast in
the price and prepare it for Patronas whenever he liked.
    A handsome woman,
she had a mane of unruly brown hair and was dressed in a red
housedress, a robe thrown over her shoulders. She apologized for
her appearance, saying she’d been just about to turn in when
Patronas rang the bell at the front desk.
    “ You
can have any room you want,” she said. “The hotel is
empty.”
    He told her he’d
like a triple room on the top floor. “Something with a view if you
got it.”
    Smiling, she
handed him his key, said the room was up a flight of stairs on his
left, and took her leave. “I’ll see you in the morning. Kalinyhta .” Good night.
    Patronas watched
her go. The air seemed warmer where she’d been, fresher
somehow.
    He told Evangelos
Demos to pick him up at seven thirty and dragged himself up the
stairs. He stowed his belongings in the closet and took off his
shoes, then called Giorgos Tembelos on his cellphone.
    “ How’d
it go in Athens?”
    “ Body
got there without incident. Hearse was waiting and it bore the
three of us away. Papa Michalis and I