The sergeant stammered. ‘No… no… I… I’m sure what the captain meant was that… uh… they didn’t know Vassilis was a monk when they attacked him.’

Andreas kept staring. ‘Show me the photographs of the body.’

The sergeant took an envelope off the desk and handed it to Andreas. ‘These were taken after we removed the body from the square. I’ll have to get you copies of the ones we took at the scene, the captain has them.’

It contained two dozen eight-by-tens of a very old, very thin, naked man. For an instant, Andreas wondered what passed through that poor soul’s mind in his last seconds on earth. His youth? His parents? His loves? Children perhaps? Regrets? Andreas moved on. He had to be clinical and focus: focus on finding the miserable, damned-to-hell bastards who murdered this old man.

Andreas studied the first few photos very carefully, handing each to Kouros as he finished. Then he quickly shuffled through the rest as if disinterested. ‘What do you think, Yianni?’

‘Only one.’

Andreas nodded. ‘Sergeant. Where’s your captain?’

He looked at his shoes. ‘I don’t know.’

Andreas took that to mean that he did, and that his captain probably was nearby. ‘Tell him to get his ass in here now or I’ll find him and personally drag him in here by his balls.’

‘Chief, I don’t think-’

‘ I said now.’

The sergeant hurried out the door.

Andreas looked at Kouros. ‘Do you think they’re just stupid, or lazy, or is it something else?’

Kouros shrugged.

‘Let’s hope it’s the first two. But watch out for the third. Which reminds me.’ Andreas spun his hand in the air and pointed to his ear. Listening devices were not unusual in police stations trying to catch suspects talking among themselves.

Kouros nodded. ‘But do you really think the captain is being blackmailed by his gay lover?’