Megan Norris - Love You to Death. A Story of Sex, Betrayal and Murder Gone Wrong

Dedicated to victims and survivors of violent crime

Chapter 1

Getting Lucky

The waiters were setting the tables for tomorrows Sunday lunchtime rush when the last stragglers settled their bills and drifted out of the restaurant. The second day of 2010 was almost over, but the night was still young for the droves of partygoers streaming past the bars and eateries of Melbournes cosmopolitan Brunswick Street.

On the footpath outside their favourite Greek restaurant, Chris Soteriou draped a protective arm around his stunning wife, Vicky. In his spare hand he held a plastic bag containing the unopened bottles of BYO wine from his surprise birthday party.

Well see you in Spring Street, Chris said to his close friends Jim and Lina Nestoras, Nick and Eleni Stamboulakis and Bill Pappas. He followed them toward their cars. Jim had parked fifty metres from the restaurant on the main thoroughfare through the inner-city suburb of Fitzroy. Nicks car was in a neighbouring side street, parked out of sight to ensure he didnt spoil the surprise dinner that Vicky had organised.

Chris and Vicky paused, watching as Bill Pappas, the only single man in the group, climbed into the back seat of Jim and Linas car. Vicky giggled and teetered on her high heels, juggling the armful of birthday gifts their imaginative friends had chosen.

Vicky had wanted to make sure that her husbands forty-fourth birthday was celebrated in style. Shed spent the past few days ringing their friends, reminding them not to breathe a word about the surprise shed arranged at Chriss favourite restaurant.

Alpha Ouzeri was a popular haunt among the well-heeled group of professionals from Melbournes Greek community. With its traditional Greek menu and music, the restaurant had been the first-choice venue for countless other celebrations. Everyone knew that the owner and chef, Harry Tsiukardaris, would take special care of them. Just a few weeks earlier, the Soterious had celebrated Vickys forty-third birthday there.

Tonight it was Chris whod been indulged. Hed been showered with an assortment of creative birthday gifts, including a cigar holder and a bottle of designer aftershave, which the girls claimed was a gift no man could have too much of.

Vicky had insisted that he wear the new white shirt shed chosen for his birthday and team it with his smart black pants. Shed watched like a delighted child that afternoon as he opened his birthday card. On the front was a photo of a flashy blood-red Ferrari, exactly like the one hed been promising to buy himself. Chris laughed as he noted the personalised number plates, which said YOU WISH.

Inside the card, Vicky and their 13-year-old daughter Marie had penned birthday wishes. To the coolest dad ever, Marie wrote. I wish you the best 44th birthday ever! Enjoy your present Love, your beautiful children, Andrew, Dimitra and Marie. She signed it with hugs and kisses.

Vicky wrote on the opposite side of the card in her own distinctive handwriting: My darling husband, Chris, wishing you all the best with everything you wish for thank you for loving me so much, your wife who adores you. Like Marie, she finished her greeting with hugs and kisses.

Now, as they stood on the footpath, Vicky kissed her husbands cheek. They waved as Nick and Eleni purred by in their car toward the city, where the birthday revellers had arranged to have a last drink in the cigar bar at the European, a popular restaurant in Spring Street. Jim Nestoras left Chris and Vicky walking arm-in-arm toward Rose Street, where theyd parked his black Nissan 350Z sports car.

At just after 11.35 p.m., the lovebirds strolled past Bimbo Deluxe, a restaurant on the corner of Brunswick and Rose Streets, where CCTV cameras captured them pushing past other late-night revellers. They headed into the quiet side street where theyd found a parking spot on this busy Saturday night.

Vicky slipped a bird-like arm around Chriss waist, her bangles jangling, and curled her hand tightly. She rested her head on his shoulder, clasping his birthday presents in her other arm. Did you have a good birthday? she asked, lifting her face up to kiss him.

Chris nodded. It was a great birthday thanks, he said, smiling. Vicky ran her tongue across his bottom lip. The nights still young, she teased. Like I told you earlier, tonights your lucky night.

Chris certainly felt lucky. Hed expected to spend his birthday at home with Vicky and Marie, who would no doubt have her nose stuck in the laptop theyd bought her for Christmas. Upstairs, their twins, Andrew and Dimitra, who had just turned fifteen months old, would be sound asleep in their beds.

Vickys Greek-born parents, Dimitrios (Jim) and Maria Skarlatos, had already babysat the twins on New Years Eve at their home in the nearby suburb of Preston, so Chris was pleasantly surprised when Vicky announced at 4 p.m. on his birthday that her mum had offered to mind the children again. Get ready. Were going out, birthday boy, she said, hurrying him into the shower. She refused to say where they were going. It was a surprise.

Vicky had been full of surprises tonight, Chris thought. His wifes over-the-top flirting had been the biggest surprise of all. It had started from the moment they left their house, when she suddenly lifted her hand off the steering wheel and grabbed his crotch.

Registering her husbands amazement, she winked and blew him kisses. Relax, she purred. Its your birthday. Youre going to get lucky later on.

Vicky had insisted on driving tonight. It made sense, because she knew where they were going on this secret outing. But it was an unusual thing for her to do. She hated driving in city traffic, and Chris was sure it would be busy this first Saturday night of the new year, with Melbourne in holiday mode.

From their house in the outer-middle suburb of Watsonia North, Vicky drove to Heidelberg, where she pulled over outside the bottle shop at the Old England Hotel and asked Chris to buy lots of champagne and wine. He bought about eight bottles, which he put in the car in plastic bags, certain they must be expecting company to drink all this. Chris wasnt a drinker, but from the amount of alcohol, he estimated that shed organised a birthday party and must have asked about twenty guests.

They left the bottle shop, taking a quick detour past the block of land where theyd soon begin building a luxury home. Then Vicky drove on to the freeway and the city.

When they arrived in Fitzroy, Chris expected his wife to pull over into one of the parking bays close to their favourite restaurant. From the moment she turned into Brunswick Street, hed suspected that she was heading for Alpha Ouzeri. But when Vicky drove past the restaurant and turned left into Rose Street, Chris wasnt so sure.

Where are you going? he asked as she drove past several empty parking spaces toward the far end of the street. On their thirty-odd visits to Fitzroy, theyd never parked this far away from Brunswick Street before. Usually, Chris parked in one of the disabled bays along Brunswick Street, using a sticker hed acquired from a relative. His mates ribbed him about the ruse, and Vicky always felt ridiculous emerging from his two-seater sports car in her high heels, looking fit and able-bodied.

When Chris couldnt find a spot there, hed use the paid parking on top of the Coles supermarket around the corner in Johnston Street. Chris took great pride in his expensive cars and didnt want to risk them getting scratched. Hed had his sports car vandalised about six weeks earlier after leaving it outside a restaurant in Greensborough near his home. The giant scratch he found on the bodywork had cost $2500 to fix, so he wasnt keen to park down this dark side street. Hed have preferred a well-lit, secure area where guards or pedestrians would notice any acts of vandalism.