I stir from my sleep, the soft light of dawn filtering through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the room. Stretching lazily, I savor the quiet tranquility of the morning before the day's adventures begin.
Opting for a refreshing shower to start the day, I make my way to the bathroom. The warm water cascades over me, washing away the remnants of sleep and invigorating my senses for the day ahead.
After my shower, I select a breezy sundress in shades of blue and white, perfect for the balmy Greek weather. Slipping on comfortable sandals, I take a moment to admire myself in the mirror, feeling ready to embrace the day.
Turning my attention to the unpacking task, I fold my clothes and place them in the dresser neatly. When I’ve unpacked, I roll the suitcase to the closet and open the door, but what greets me sends a blood-curdling scream from my lungs, piercing the air and sending shivers down my spine.
Startled, Brock jolts awake, his eyes wide with alarm as he rushes to my side. "What's wrong?" he asks, his voice filled with concern.
I point towards the closet, my hand trembling with fear. "There's...there's a body in there," I manage to stammer out, my heart racing in my chest.
With a sense of dread, Brock approaches the closet and pulls open the door, revealing the lifeless form of a man stuffed against the wall, his deep brown eyes and dark, curly black hair frozen in time. Shock washes over me as I take in the scene before me. Other than seeing a lifeless body in the closet, what is really odd is that a tiny begonia is stuffed in his mouth.
“He’s the bellhop,” Brock whispers.
As the reality of the situation sinks in, Brock and I exchange a look, knowing that our adventure in Greece has taken an unexpected and sinister turn, just as it had in the airport. And as we grapple with the shock of the discovery, I realize that our journey is far from over and our peaceful vacation is about to turn into a sea of questions and a trip down to the local police station – in Athens, Greece.
A pounding on the door snaps me out of my trance.
“Ma’am, hotel security here. Are you OK?” A man’s voice in broken English calls out.
I whisper, “What should we do?”
“We have to let him in, Trice, and tell him the truth.” I nod and take a deep breath, not knowing what our fate will reveal.
As the shock of the discovery settles in, Brock opens the door to hotel security, their concerned expressions mirroring our own. They exchange a few hushed words with Brock before being granted entry.
With a mixture of trepidation and relief, we step aside as the security personnel carefully assess the scene. Their professional demeanor is reassuring in the midst of the chaos that has unfolded in our hotel room.
After a thorough examination and the recalling of what I encountered once I finished unpacking, one of the security officers speaks up, his tone somber yet composed. "We'll need to notify the authorities immediately," he says, his voice carrying a weight of gravity.
Brock nods in agreement, his jaw set with determination. "Of course," he replies, his gaze unwavering. "We'll cooperate fully with the police."
As the security team makes arrangements to contact the authorities, a sense of unease settles over me. The reality of the situation is sinking in, and I know that we'll soon be faced with difficult questions and scrutiny.
With a heavy heart, I turn to Brock, the gravity of our predicament weighing heavily upon us. "We'll get through this together," I say, my voice barely above a whisper.
Brock nods, his expression resolute. "We will," he replies, his tone firm. "But first, we must do everything we can to help the police with their investigation."
As we await the authorities' arrival, a sense of apprehension lingers in the air. Our adventure in Greece has taken another unexpected turn, and we can only hope that we'll emerge from this ordeal unscathed. However, I don’t hold out much hope.
After what seems like forever, the police finally arrive at our hotel room. I remove my hands from my face as I stare into the eyes of a middle-aged Greek police officer. His demeanor tells me he’s not happy with tourists finding a dead body in their hotel room closet as he kneels and examines the body without touching it.
A while later, the medical examiner is called in, and he firmly tells us the man has been dead for at least 12 hours. As I mentally calculate the time, I realize that when we got to the hotel room, he was already dead in the closet. We fell asleep and it was nearly 9:00 when I woke up, so he had to have been killed while we were sitting in the bar drinking our wine. But who did it, and why was he killed? And, more importantly, why was he killed in our hotel room?
Goosebumps form on my arms as I wrap my arms around myself to calm my anxiety. A bomb threat hoax and now a dead bellhop in our closet – what next?
“Sir, Madam, you will need to come with me. Put your hands behind your back.” The shock at what is transpiring leaves me speechless.
“We did not have anything to do with his death. We were down at the bar when he was killed, 12 hours ago, according to the medical examiner,” Brocks says, not putting his hands behind his back.
“It is protocol. You are a foreigner, and the hotel employee was killed in your room last night. Since we don’t have a suspect, we need to ask questions of the people who were in the room when he was discovered.” The Greek officer pulled out his cuffs and I notice a slight scar across his forehead. His dark hair mainly covers it, but it’s still slightly noticeable. His brown eyes look almost black as he furrows his brow, looking at Brock who still has his hands in front of him. “Sir, hands behind, please.”
“Is this an arrest? We will answer all the questions you have for us, but you cannot arrest us unless we are being charged with something. I’m an attorney in America and know our rights, even in Greece.”
A stare-down begins, and I silently plead with Brock not to stir up trouble. I need to support my husband, though.
“He’s right, Officer … “I say, prompting a name.
“Officer Markopoulos.”
I stifle a smile as I swear it sounded like he said Marco Polo.
“Right, Officer. My husband is not trying to be difficult, but I did do my research before arriving, and unless we are being charged with a crime, you legally cannot arrest us.” Brock and I knew we had won when Officer Markopoulos put his handcuffs back inside his pocket.
“Fine, you answer questions here.” We both nod. Officer Markopoulos’s stern gaze bores into me as he addresses us. "Tell me what happened before you discovered the body?"
I swallow nervously, feeling the weight of his scrutiny. "Well, it all started when we arrived at the hotel earlier today. Everything seemed normal until this morning..."
Interrupting, Markopoulos’s tone is firm. "What time was it when you made the discovery?"
I glance at Brock, his expression mirroring my unease. "Around 9 a.m. I was unpacking my suitcase. When I was finished, I wheeled it over to store it inside the closet and that is when I saw the dead body.”
“I was asleep when I heard her scream. It jolted me awake, and I rushed to her,” Brock adds.
“I am questioning the woman, and then I will address you.” Markopoulos’s scrutiny deepens as he probes further.
“The woman’s name is Patrice Summers,” Brock says curtly, emphasizing our last name for effect.
Officer Markopoulos ignored him and went on. "Did either of you notice anything unusual before the incident?"
Brock hesitates before responding. "Not really. It all seemed pretty quiet."
The officer's gaze intensifies. "Did either of you interact with the bellhop or notice anyone else behaving suspiciously?"
I shake my head. "We didn't interact with the bellhop directly, but I did see him briefly in the hallway yesterday. He seemed friendly enough."
Marcopolous's tone remains stern as he concludes, "And did you notice anyone else in the vicinity around the time of the incident?"
Brock shifts uncomfortably beside me. "No, it was pretty early, so the hallway was quiet."
"Thank you for your cooperation," Marcopolous says crisply, his expression unreadable. "We may have more questions later on. In the meantime, please remain available if we need to follow up."
As the officer turns to leave, a knot of unease forms in the pit of my stomach. Our adventure in Greece has taken an unexpected turn, and I can't shake the feeling that things are about to get even more complicated.
So much for a relaxing vacation.
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