To its left hung signed and framed photographs of the current archbishop of the Eastern Orthodox Church in Greece and his two predecessors. No politicians shared the walls. Obviously, it was the church that held influence in this office.

Andreas pulled two pairs of latex gloves from the dispenser box on the table and handed one pair to Kouros. Very carefully, they began sorting through the items. Blood seemed everywhere.

‘All we found were his robe, hat, sandals, undergarments, and two crosses.’

‘Do you know what was taken?’

‘No, but his pockets were turned inside out.’

‘Any idea of how many attackers?’

The sergeant did a quick upward jerk of his head, Greek for ‘no.’ ‘No idea, but my guess is more than one. These mugger bastards are cowards when alone.’

‘A lot of monks get mugged here?’

He gestured no again. ‘This is the first I know of.’

Andreas looked at the crosses. One was heavy, silver, and connected to a long, thick, woven black cord. The other was much smaller and lighter, like tin, and tied to a thin black lanyard. It was the only item without bloodstains. He pointed at the smaller cross. ‘Why is there no blood on this?’

‘We found it clenched in his fist.’

Andreas nodded. ‘Any thoughts on why the crosses were left behind?’

The sergeant shrugged. ‘No. The captain thinks it’s because he was a man of God and the muggers thought it a sacrilege to take them.’

Andreas stared deadpan at the sergeant. Kouros started to laugh. ‘Can’t wait to meet your captain,’ said Andreas. ‘A monk is butchered in your town square and he thinks the muggers were worried about committing a sacrilege by stealing his crosses?’