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me. Now, though, their favorite line is that I married Mamas because he’s the only guy I ever dated big and strong enough to handle them.”

“The father mentioned something about your husband being able to lift a bull.”

“More like a calf, a big calf.” Popi paused. “Do you mind if I ask the context in which that subject came up?”

Yianni wondered how much he should tell her, but if she hadn’t drawn the son away he’d likely never have learned a thing from the father. “No, I don’t mind. Just keep it among ourselves. This isn’t gossip to share with anyone, including our cop colleagues over coffee.”

“Understood.”

“He claimed that everything he told the reporter was made up to impress her. That none of it was true.”

“Did he say why he made it all up?”

“To use his words, he wanted to get into Nikoletta’s pants by convincing her he was a Molotov cocktail–tossing activist.”

She nodded. “That makes sense. It’s priority number one for men in their dealings with women. At least most men, and not just Greek men.”

“I’m not sure I’d go that far, but then again, I’m not in your shoes.” He smiled. “Either heels or flats.”

Popi laughed. “A deft change of subject.”

“In this case, though, I believe the father,” said Yianni.

Popi nodded. “From what I know of him and his family, I’d agree they’re not the Molotov cocktail–tossing sort.” She started the engine. “So, where do you want to go now?”

“I’m famished. Haven’t eaten since breakfast, aside from a couple of cookies at Marco’s hotel.”

“There’s a terrific taverna up the road in Koronos, and the drive there offers some of the most spectacular views on the island. Every time I’m up this way I eat there. It’s a winding mountain road with plunging views into emerald valleys running out to the sea. Are you up for that?”

“How could I not be?”

She edged back onto the road around an old pickup that had parked off to the side of the road just beyond them.

“I’ve got a whole list of people to chase down, but not an address or telephone number for one of them. All I have are their names and their villages. Nikoletta apparently found them by going to the villages, striking up conversations with locals, and getting them to tell her where she could find their village’s main activist.” Yianni turned to look out the side window. “She must have a real gift for getting people to talk. I find most villagers to be closemouthed when it comes to speaking to strangers.”

“That’s because you’re a cop, and activists are wary of cops. In my experience, once you get them talking, the hard part is getting them to stop.”

“But how do I find them?”

“I should be able to help you with that. This is a fiercely independent island, with tough people, but it’s still a small community and if you’re known and trusted, you can get that sort of information.”

“Here are the names.” Yianni pulled out his notepad and read off a half dozen names and villages.

“Oh, boy.”

“Dare I ask what that means?”

“Remember what I said before about getting activists to stop talking? Well, you’ve got the equivalent there of a Eurovision competition among the biggest talkers on the island. I suggest you plan on spending the better part of a day with each one on your list. That is if you want a shot at getting any of your questions answered. They’ll spend most of the time preaching to you about why they’re right, the rest of the world is wrong, and you should join them in their cause.”

Yianni thought of the new deadline Andreas had delivered. “I don’t have that kind of time.”

“I wish I could tell you something different, but they’ll bend your ear for sure.”

Yianni leaned his head back, shut his eyes, breathed in deeply, exhaled, and opened his eyes. “What’s the chance of our getting all of them together in one place to meet with me as a group?”

“You mean turn it into an activist convention? They’ll be competing like cats for attention to show who’s the most important.”

Yianni smiled. “That’s the point. They’ll each have heard the other’s pitch so many times they’ll be shouting one another down to stop with the canned speeches. We might actually be lucky enough to get them competing with each other over who’s giving better answers to my questions.”

“Optimism is an admirable trait, Detective.” Popi bit her lower lip. “I must admit, it’s an interesting idea, and if we promise them food, wine, and liquor, it just might work. We can bill it as Athens reaching out to Naxos’s leading thinkers in an effort to learn what’s truly on the people’s minds.”

“That’s laying it on a bit thick, wouldn’t you say?”

“We’re talking about self-styled politicians, and regardless of where they fit on the political spectrum, they all share one common trait: they love an audience.”

Yianni smiled. “Are we back to your view on men?”

“In this case it’s a gender-neutral phenomenon.”

Yianni sat quietly for a moment. “Do you really think you can pull it off?”

“I can try. Once they learn who else is being invited, they’ll all likely want to be in on it, if only not to lose out to a rival if something good comes out of the meeting. I suggest we hold our little get-together in a place activists consider friendly territory.”

“Okay, go for it. Try to set it up for tomorrow afternoon. He’ll be here by then, and I’m sure he wouldn’t want to miss it.”

“Is he a masochist?”

“No, more of a cat wrangler.”

* * *

Andreas was doing his best to clear his desk of a mess of burning bureaucratic emergencies, but his usual approach—handing them off to Maggie—wasn’t available. She had her own fires to put out, so he decided to take a different tack: Ignore everything, leave the office early, and spend the rest of the day with his children.

Andreas made it as far as his car before his mobile rang. It

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