Chapter 24 Chapter 23

Witnesses emerged from the crowd shortly after.A passerby happened to pass by a few minutes before the shooting and heard a couple arguing through an open car window.A woman claimed to have seen a man running down the street afterward.Upon hearing the news, a small group of men ran in the direction of the church, and within ten minutes, they were back with the suspect.The weapon was still in his hand, without any resistance.Needless to say, Maria knew who he was too.He is Andres. The whole Plaka was deeply shaken.It was supposed to be a memorable evening, but it shouldn't be for this reason.People stood there in small groups, talking in low voices.It didn't take long for news to spread: Maria's sister Anna had been shot, and Anna's husband had been arrested for the murder.This particular evening ended prematurely.There was no choice but to cook the evening and go their separate ways.The musicians left, and the unfinished food was thrown away; everyone said goodbye without a word, and the Athenians left with their family and friends to start a new life.The locals provided beds for the short trip to wait until tomorrow before embarking on their journey home to other villages and cities in Crete.Andrés Vandoraki was taken away by the police and spent the night in Elounda's jail, while Anna's body was taken to the chapel by the sea, where it would remain until her burial.

The daytime temperature hasn't dropped yet.Even now, as night draws to a close and dawn approaches, the heat is suffocating.For the second time in one day, Giorgis' small room was packed with people.Last time his guests looked forward to the festivities.This time they came ready to mourn.The priest came, but left when he saw that little consolations were of little help to such grief. At four o'clock in the morning, Giorgis returned home exhausted.He's numb, maybe it's the sadness, maybe he just doesn't feel anything anymore.Even after a long wait, Maria finally came back, he didn't feel it anymore.

Krittis stayed there for over an hour, but there was nothing else he could do tonight.Tomorrow—it was already today—he would help them arrange the funeral, and he would find time to sleep for a few hours in an empty room in Fotini and Stephanos' tavern. When extremely bored, the villagers love to gossip, and now they are too busy to breathe.Only Antonis could explain why Ana had been killed.Early in the morning, several men were still sitting around a table in the tavern.Antonis told what he saw.A few weeks ago, he had noticed that Manoli was always sneaking out for a few hours in the middle of the day.While that's circumstantial evidence, it might explain what drove Andrés to kill his wife.During those days, Andrés' mood became increasingly sombre.He lost his temper at those around him, and the workers began to fear him.Even the gathered thunder and lightning will not make people so nervous.For a long time Andres was kept in the dark, unaware of his wife's cheating, and was still happy, but once he understood the truth, there was only one action.Pub drinkers are all sympathetic, and some agree that being cuckolded will drive them to kill.The manliness of the Greeks could not tolerate such a shame.

Ridaki appears to be the last to see Manoli, who has now disappeared without a trace, save for his precious lyre that still hangs on the wall behind the bar. "He came in about six o'clock last night," said Rydakey, "as happy as ever, and one felt he would stay and join in the celebration." "Nobody seemed to see him after that," Angelos said. "I thought he was embarrassed to see Maria." "Of course he doesn't feel obligated to marry Maria," interposed another voice. "I doubt it, you know Manoli, that might keep him on the sidelines," Ridaki said.

"I personally don't think it has anything to do with Mariah," Antonis said. "I think he knew his time was up." That morning, Antonis went to the Manolis' house.He went to this attractive but weak man for nothing; he was a good company, a good drinking buddy.It was not impossible for Antonis to think for a moment that Manoli might be lying in a pool of blood in his own home.If Andres could kill his wife, it would make sense to kill his cousin. Antonis looked in from the window, and everything seemed normal: the bachelor's messy room, pots and pans piled high, half-drawn curtains, crumbs on the table and a bottle uncorked, two-thirds drunk liquor.Everything he saw was not what he expected.

Antonis tried the door, found it open, and ventured in.Upstairs in the bedrooms, the sight of the rooms, besides confirming the carelessness of the occupants, suggested a hasty departure.The drawers were all open, and the clothes spread out like a volcanic eruption.The wardrobe opened wide, and it could be seen that the rails inside were empty.The bed was not made, the sheets were twisted and the pillows were flattened.None of this surprised Antonis, but what really made him realize that the void in the room would be forever was the picture frames thrown face down on the chest of drawers in front of the window, as if someone had smashed them.Two of the frames were empty, and the photographs had been hastily ripped away.All signs are here.Manoli's truck was gone.Now he may be somewhere in Greece, but no one is going to find him.

Anna's funeral was not held in the cathedral in Plaka (where Andrés had taken refuge), but in a small chapel outside the village.The small building overlooks the sea, looking undisturbed across to Spinalonga.Between the chapel burial and the final resting place of the leper there was nothing but salt water.The remains of Anna's mother are buried opposite. Less than two days after Anna's death, a small crowd dressed in black gathered in the dank chapel.No one from the Pandoraki family came.They had been locked within the four walls of the house in Elounda since the murder.Maria, Giorgis, Kritis, Fotini, Savina, and Pavros stood with their heads bowed while the pastor read the scriptures for the coffin.The incense billowed from the censer, the long prayers for forgiveness of sins, the comforting words of the Lord's Prayer they could hardly hear.When it was time for the burial, they went outside, where the sun was mercilessly scorching the earth.Tears and sweat mixed together and flowed down their cheeks.They did not believe that Anna was contained in the wooden box that was about to be buried in the dark.

The coffin was slowly lowered to the ground, and the pastor grabbed a handful of dust and sprinkled it horizontally on the body. "All the land belongs to the Lord," he said, "and the one who dwells in it belongs to the Lord." The ashes from the censer floated down and mixed with the dust, and the pastor continued to read: "The spirit of righteousness favors death, and rest in you Servant Spirit..." The priest recited like he was singing.Those words had been said a thousand times, and the little company seemed to be stunned as they poured from the chaplain's parted lips.

"O Holy Mother of Innocence, please plead for the salvation of the dead souls of your servants..." Fotini silently thought about the saying that the pure and innocent Virgin interceded for Anna.Even if Anna behaved a little better, they might not be standing here anymore, she thought. Towards the end of the ceremony, the pastor competed with thousands of cicadas for voice, and when he spoke the last words, the relentless noise of cicadas reached a crescendo. "Let her rest in the arms of Abraham... May your memory live on, our sister, with the gift of happiness." "Lord have mercy, Lord have mercy, Lord have mercy."

After a few minutes people started leaving.Maria was the first to speak, thanking the priest for the ceremony, and then it was time to go back to the village.Maria went home with her father.He wants to sleep, he said.That's what he wants.Fotini and her parents go back to the diner to find Stephanos, who has been playing on the beach with Petros and the carefree Mateos.It was noon, and all was quiet, and not a single soul was disturbed. Krittis sat on an old bench in the square and waited for Maria.Maria had to leave Plaka for a few hours, and they planned to drive to Elounda.Aside from that brief trip from the mainland to Spinalonga, it was her first trip in four years.She wants an hour or so of private time.

She remembered a tavern by the sea in Elounda.Needless to say, she had been with Manoli many times before, but that was all in the past now.She didn't want to think about him anymore.They were led to a table with the sea at their feet, beating against the rocks, and the events of the past two days seemed distant, as if they had happened to someone else somewhere else.However, when she looked across the sea, she saw Spinalonga clearly.From here, the empty island looks the same as before, and it's hard to believe that it's deserted now.Buraka was hidden behind the rocks of the headland, but was out of sight. This was the first time Maria and Kritis had the opportunity to be alone together since they met at the church door that night on the festival.Perhaps for an hour of her life there had been such a promise, such a future, but now she felt that this great step forward was offset by some frustration.She never called the man she loved by his Christian name. When Krittis looked back at the moment weeks later, he blamed himself for being impulsive.He looks overly excitedly at their shared future, talking passionately about his apartment in Heraklion, how he wishes it was big enough for them. "It's not too spacious, but it has a study and a separate reception room." He said, "If we need it, we can always move in the future, but it's very close to the hospital." He grabbed her hand across the table and held it in his own.She looks troubled.Of course she was troubled.They had just buried their sister, and here he, like a child, couldn't wait to talk about the reality of their life together.It was clear Maria needed more time. How comforting, she thought, how warm and spacious his hand was in hers.Why can't they stay at this table forever?No one knows where they are.Nothing can bother them.Only her conscience had followed them all the way here and haunted her now. "I can't marry you," she said suddenly. "I have to stay at home and take care of my father." These words were like a bolt from the blue to Kritis.He froze.However, after a few minutes, he felt that this made sense again.Yes, how could he expect everything to stay on track just after the dramatic events of the previous two days?He is a fool.This woman, he had been deeply attracted by her integrity, selflessness, and beauty, how could he expect her to abandon his bereaved and grieving father?He's been sane all his life, and the moment he wants to deny it and let emotion rule his life, he's wrong. He wanted to protest a little, but he took Maria's hand and squeezed it tenderly.Then he spoke with understanding, with forgiveness, and those words broke her heart. "You're right to stay here," he said. "That's where I love you, Maria. Because you know what's right and you do it." That was true, but what he said next was even more true and true. "I will never love anyone else again." The proprietor of the tavern watched their table from afar.He realized that the woman had broken down, and she burst into tears.He doesn't like to interfere with the privacy of his guests.They didn't speak aloud, which would be unusual if this was a quarrel.But that's when he noticed that their clothes were dark.It was unusual to wear black in summer, except for old widows, and it dawned on him that they might be in mourning. Maria let go of her hand from Kritis's palm, and sat there with her head buried, letting her tears flow, rolling down her arms, neck, and chest.She couldn't hold back the tears.The grief that had been suppressed in the graveyard was only suppressed for a moment, and the overwhelming sorrow was now like a flood that broke its bank, until every tear fell, and until the tears dried up, it could not relieve the pain.It made her weep all the more that Crittis was so sensible, and made her decision all the more pathetic. Krittis sat looking at Maria's bowed head.When the trembling subsided, he touched her shoulder lightly. "Maria," he whispered, "let's go, shall we?" They walked away from the table, holding hands, Maria's head resting on Crittis' shoulder.As they drove back to Plaka, there was silence, only the sapphire water shimmering, but the sky began to change, imperceptibly changing from blue to pink, and even the rocks took on the same warm hue.At last, this dreadful day was passing away. When they were nearing the village, the doctor spoke. "I can't say goodbye," he said. He is right. The word "goodbye" contains too many endings.How can it end before it has really begun? "Neither can I," said Maria, now in control of her emotions. "Will you write to me and tell me how you're doing? Tell me what you're doing? Tell me what it's like to live in the free world?" Kritis asked with forced enthusiasm. Maria nodded. There is no point in procrastinating now.The sooner Kritis left, the better for both of them.He parked the car outside Maria's house, got out, and opened the passenger door.They stood facing each other, then hugged for a few seconds.Not so much hugging as standing face to face like children in a thunderstorm.Then, by sheer force of will, they simultaneously let go of each other.Maria immediately turned and entered the house.Kritis got back in the car and drove off.He didn't want to stop and drove all the way to Heraklion. The silence at home was unbearable, and Maria ran back into the street.She needs cicadas screaming, scooters roaring, children screaming.All this greeted her as she walked toward the center of the village, and she could not help but glance the street to see if she could still see Kritis' car, but his car had long since disappeared. Maria needs Fotini.She walked briskly to the diner, where her friend was spreading the tablecloth and setting the table, snapping rubber bands around the table to keep the cloth from being blown up by the wind. "Maria!" Fotini was happy to see her friend, but she was panicked when she saw her ashen face.Of course, it wasn't surprising that Maria looked pale.In the past two days, she has returned from exile to see her sister killed and buried. "Come on, sit down," Fotini said, pulling out a chair for Maria to sit down. "I'll get you something to drink—I bet you haven't eaten all day." Fotini was right.Maria hadn't eaten for the past twenty-four hours, but she had no appetite now. "No, I'm fine. Really, I'm fine." Fotini didn't believe it.She tossed the list of things she needed to prepare before the first guests of the evening arrived.Those can wait.Fotini dragged another chair, sat down next to Maria, and hugged her. "Is there anything I can do for you?" she asked gently. "Anything." There was a kindness in her voice that made Maria tremble and cry, and through the tears Fotini could catch a few words and understand why her friend was so sad. "He's gone...I can't go...can't leave my daddy." "Look, tell me what happened." Maria slowly calmed down. "Just before Anna was killed, Dr. Crittis asked me to marry him. But now I can't leave—I can't do that. To marry him I have to leave my father. I can't do that." "So he's gone, isn't he?" Fotini asked gently. "yes." "When will you see him again?" Maria took a deep breath. "I don't know. I really don't know. Maybe never again." She was strong enough to say it.To this day, fate's vengeance is so strong, but every blow will only make Maria more capable of resisting the next one. The two friends sat for a while, and finally Stephanos came out and tried to persuade Maria to have something to eat.If she was going to make such a sacrifice for her father, she'd better be strong and useful.If she herself is ill, it means nothing. As night fell, Maria got up to go.When she got home, everything was still so silent.Maria slipped into the empty bedroom, which was now hers again.She lay in bed and slept until the next morning. Anna's death left a trail of disturbed and devastated lives.Not only her sister's, her father's and her husband's, but her daughter's as well.Sophia was not yet two years old, and it didn't take long to find out her parents were gone.Grandparents told her they were going away for a while.At first she cried, and soon she began to forget.And for Alexandros and Eleftria Vandoraki, they lost their son overnight—the hope for their future, and the honor of their family.Fears that Andrés had married a lowly woman were now fully realized.Aleftria, who had always been willing to take in Ana Petrakis, had to face the bitterest disappointment.It didn't take long for everyone to find out that Manoli had disappeared, and they naturally understood what caused the terrible events at the San Titus Festival.That woman brought them the deepest humiliation, and the thought of their son languishing in prison was a daily torment. The trial of Andrés lasted three days at San Nicolas.Maria, Fotini, and several other villagers were called as witnesses, and Dr. Kritis also came from Heraklion to testify.Afterwards, I stayed and had a brief conversation with Maria. Aleftria and Alexandros sat indifferently in the public gallery, both of them felt anxious and humiliated to appear in such a public place.Details of the murder were made public and spread throughout Crete.Everyone talked about it, and the saliva was dry, and the newspapers published sensational details every day.Giorgis was present throughout.While he wanted Ana to be treated fairly, he never suspected that it was Ana's own actions that caused Andres' violent reaction.For the first time in fourteen years, he was glad Eleni wasn't there.