The Devil Takes Half Read Online Free

partisans hadn’t shot him, it would have been worse for everybody. His death had been a good thing. Not like this.
    â€œ Listen to me,” Patronas said. “It looks like a woman was killed up at Profitis Ilias.”
    â€œ What woman?”
    â€œ Eleni Argentis.” There was a long silence.
    â€œ So it’s true what they’ve been saying.”
    â€œ What who’s been saying?”
    â€œ Spiros and Antigone Korres. You know the ones. They live on the road to the monastery. They say she found some kind of treasure, better than the gold in the National Museum.”
    â€œ When did you hear this?”
    â€œ At the open air market, the laiki, on Wednesday.”
    â€œ Ach. Who was with you?”
    â€œ It was the laiki , Yiannis . Half of Chios was there. And that Spiros, he’s a loud one. He doesn’t whisper.”
    â€œ Ach,” he said again.
    â€œ That’s right, Yiannis.” As usual, his wife had gotten there first and was eager to point it out to him. “Your killer? It could have been anybody.”
    Sighing, Yiannis Patronas closed the phone. He hated it when his wife did this. As if they were playing chess and she’d yelled ‘checkmate’ before he’d gotten his men on the board.
    Å¡â€º
    Judging by the sound, the rooster was somewhere close by. Patronas fumbled for the light and opened the door of his room. The bird was perched on the railing of the balcony directly across from him, crowing raucously. When it saw him, it flapped its wings and moved to attack him. “Get out of here,” Patronas yelled, backing away. “Go on, beat it.”
    The priest came hurrying out of a room two doors down. “Sorry,” he said. “I should have warned you. He’s a monster, this one. Mussolini with feathers. Very demanding and unlike his fellows. He doesn’t just crow at sun-up; he crows all day long.”
    Waving his arms, he shooed the bird away. “I suppose I could eat him. But the truth is, it’s lonely up here and he keeps me company. Come on, it’ll be light soon. I’ll make you breakfast.”
    The kitchen was a cold, dark space with battered pine cabinets and a cement floor. The counters were white marble, stained with rust in places. What looked like an immense sink was propped up against one wall. Hewn of a single block of stone, it had no pipes attached, no faucet. Water had to be drawn from the small well at the center of the room.
    Patronas ran his hand across the sink. It had a Latin date carved on the front of it.
    The priest noticed his interest. “Part of a sarcophagus. It’s old, this place. Eleni told me it’s been in continuous use since Roman times, maybe even earlier.”
    Pushing a stack of books aside, he motioned for Patronas to take a seat at the little table in the corner. It was covered with a printed oilskin cloth and held a pitcher full of wilting sunflowers. The priest opened the door of the refrigerator and got out a bowl of eggs, then lit the propane burner on the counter and made Patronas an omelet with feta and tomatoes. He himself ate only bread.
    Patronas picked up his fork. “How long have you known Eleni Argentis?” he asked.
    â€œ Two years.” The priest faltered for a moment. “When she first came here, the Bishop asked me to look out for her … and I did. Or at least I tried to. I spent a lot of time down here in those ditches, helping the two of them. She liked to show us bits of clay she collected and talk about them. As you can see, I am an old man and she took pity on me. She washed my clothes and helped me in the garden. She even made dinner for me once or twice. She was ….” He ran a gnarled hand over his face. “She and Petros, we were friends.”
    â€œ You are friends. Whether or not anyone is a victim here remains to be seen.” Blood or no blood, Patronas was unwilling to concede that a death had