Greek Capers

by Katerina Nikolas

  “What are we supposed to do now, Fenella really is too sickly to walk?” Blodwyn worried.

  “Let me tricycle back to Quentin’s house and see if he’d be willing to come and get you. He has an old banger,” Iraklis suggested.

  “I wonder if it’s the same walkers I gave water to earlier,” Quentin pondered when Iraklis filled him in on their sickly plight. “They looked healthy enough then. I suppose it would be the decent thing to help them out and drive them over to Vangelis the chemist,” he added, thinking it would be a good opportunity to retrieve the lobster adorned shower curtain cum outdoor tablecloth, before Deirdre noticed it was missing.

  Pulling up alongside the Doomsday trippers in the old banger, Quentin noticed Hywel appeared to be in perfect health. “I can fit three of you in,” he offered “but there’s no room for all five of you.”

  “There are only four of us,” Hywel argued.

  “Five with the parrot and I’m not risking it getting anywhere near my scalp again. Why do you think I was gardening in a beekeeper’s outfit if not to afford myself protection from that blasted creature? If you can prise it off you can hop in, but if it’s stuck firm to your head you’ll have to walk,” Quentin insisted. “And I’d thank you not to spread false rumours about those Christmas tinners poisoning you. I sourced them myself from a very reliable contact in Idaho.”

  As Quentin drove off towards the pharmacy with three of the Doomsday trippers, Fenella mused, “We got violently sick so soon after eating those tins, food poisoning usually does take a bit longer to take hold. And it’s true Hywel is unaffected even though he ate two of them. I wonder if it was something else we ate that made us sick, Hamish?”

  Turning a ghastly shade of green she gulped, “Oh no, not again, Quentin would you mind pulling over at the rubbish bins, I’m going to throw up again.”

  After several emergency stops Quentin arrived at the pharmacy to be greeted by Vangelis the chemist returning from Adonis’ hotel where he’d been called out to offer medical assistance to the visiting Kazakh who’d been struck down with an extremely violent case of food poisoning. “I might need to call an ambulance for him if he still looks so nasty in another half-hour,” the chemist confided.

  “How will you tell, he always looks nasty?” Quentin quipped.

  “He was in the taverna where we ate that fish meze last night,” Hamish recalled. “Perhaps we got food poisoning there.”

  “I don’t like to judge the source too hastily but do feel it would be appropriate to call in the services of the public health inspector,” Vangelis stated. “On top of this food poisoning there’s a vile rash of warts going round. This shouldn’t be my responsibility, but the doctor is away on a medical conference.”

  Vangelis the chemist prescribed an antiemetic and a powerful wart remedy for the Scottish couple, even though they protested they were wart free. “You can’t be too careful, warts are very contagious,” he insisted.

  “I’ll take some of that wart stuff for Deirdre,” Quentin said. “She had a disgusting growth on her foot when she woke up this morning.”

  “I’m sure the health inspector will get to the bottom of it,” Vangelis assured.

  “I just want to go off and die quietly with my head in a toilet,” Fenella groaned as Quentin and Blodwyn helped the Scottish pair back to the fishing cottage. Fortunately the house was quiet as Thea and Sofia had gone shopping in Paraliakos and Toothless Tasos, on returning from fishing, had headed off to the police station to turn himself in for faking his own death.

  “I am ‘ere to confess a terrible crime what ‘as been hanging over my head for years,” Tasos declared. Remembering Socrates’ legal advice he hastily added “but I wasn’t in my right mind when I did it.”

  Pancratius the village policeman scratched his head, wondering what possible law this model citizen could have broken. He presumed Toothless Tasos was probably feeling guilty about some minor misdemeanour such as smoking under a ‘No Smoking’ sign or sounding his horn during siesta time.

  “I faked my own death at sea in order to extricate myself from a ghastly marriage to Stavroula,” Tasos admitted.

  “Well everyone already knows that. But the crime was committed in Australian water so it’s not under my jurisdiction,” the policeman said, hoping to wriggle out of the tiresome paperwork.

  “But my selfish act turned Stavroula into a bigamist,” Toothless Tasos said.

  “Well I hear tell on the gossip vine that Stavroula’s husband Kostas who was missing has been declared officially dead, so she’s not technically a bigamist any longer,” the policeman reasoned. “Why are you raking this ancient stuff up now Taso? No one cares two olives about it, best let sleeping goats lie.”

  “Socrates told me I ‘ad to turn myself in so Stavroula can legally divorce me an’ marry him.”

  “Well if you insist on raking up old matters that are best left buried then I’m sure the prosecutor will be more than happy to make a case against you; a juicy faked death bigamist scandal would be right up his alley. My advice is to forget it.”

  “Socrates won’t let it lie. He wants to make an honest woman of Stavroula an’ he cant’s until we is divorced. An’ I really do want to be free to marry Thea,” Tasos continued.

  Pancratius, less than happy to have this extra workload dumped in his idle lap, blew the dust off his typewriter and ineptly began typing up a two-fingered report. “Seven copies all wanting different official stamps,” he complained wearily, reaching for the carbon paper and Tipex, “and the photocopiers on the blink.”

  “Are yous going to handcuff me?” Tasos asked nervously.

  “Don’t be daft, it’s my half day. You get off home. I’ll send this paperwork through to the prosecutor and see what he wants to make of it. I should warn you he’s a bit keen on locking people up. Look how adamant he was Nitsa should stay behind bars up in Paraliakos prison even though folks from all over the world were clamouring for her release when she claimed she was tortured. If you want a quick divorce he’ll be sure to make an example of you over this fake death business.”

  “Prison?”

  “I’d say so. Have your toothbrush packed at the ready Taso.”

  “Dont’s forget to mention I wasn’t in my right mind,” Tasos reminded him.

  “Who round here is?” the policeman sighed wearily.

  Chapter 24

  A Spot of Blackmail

  “Dont’s say Did-Rees ‘as finally let you off the leash K-Went-In? Come an’ join us for a coffee,” Prosperous Pedros invited as Quentin strolled past the kafenion. Quentin was delighted to be included in the group of village men, flattered he had been accepted as one of the locals. He didn’t explain Deirdre was at home nursing a sudden plague of warts.

  “We ‘ave serious business,” Prosperous Pedros explained. “Masha ‘as reported back that the oily Kazakh is about to seal a deal to turn the landfill site into a gold mine, by bribing the buffoon of a mayor with ‘is greasy dollars.”

  “Wouldn’t a gold mine be better than a rubbish dump?” Quentin enquired naively.

  “Po po, give up our dump indeed. ‘Aven’t yous been following the goings on in Skouries over on the Halkidiki Peninsula?” Fat Christos asked. “The Canadians is trying to open a gold mine and the place is overrun with vegans protesting against environmental damage. Some days it’s like a riot zone.”

  “But won’t a gold mine be good for the village? Gold mining would bring jobs and prosperity.”

  “We is prosperous enough in the important things K-Went-In. Dont’s yous appreciate our clean coastline, our lush olive groves and our organically reared goats? Yous wouldn’t be so keen if the greedy prospectors want to knock down yous Lemoni Spiti and do a bit of flash smelting in yous garden,” Prosperous Pedros explained.

  “Oh good grief, Deirdre would be distraught if her garden was uprooted,” Quentin acknowledged, immediately supporting their cause. “So what are we going to do to stop it?”

  “We
are all off to ‘ave it out with the mayor now. We’ll put a stop to ‘is gold grabbing plans,” Bald Yannis proclaimed. “Yous is welcome to come along K-Went-In.”

  “But how do you propose to stop him?” Quentin asked, hoping it wouldn’t involve him in anything illegal.

  “We will tell ‘im we know all about ‘im accepting filthy bribes an’ will expose ‘im. If he doesn’t agree to step down as mayor we will blackmail ‘im by threatening to tell his wife he’s been philandering with Pavlos the Pappas from Paraliakos,” Bald Yannis piped up.

  “That sounds a bit harsh,” Quentin objected.

  “Po po, ‘is corruption needs stopping. We couldn’t care less about ’is seedy little affair, but it’s time to put an end to his dodgy deals. He only won the election because of his meat bribes,” Bald Yannis stated. As a vegetarian he’d been disgusted by the easy bribes of free meat and had cast his own vote for the opposition candidate who’d bribed voters with free peaches.

  “What will you do without a mayor?” Quentin asked, recalling he’d heard the rival candidate had been buried under a peach tree a year earlier.

  “Well there’s nothin’ to stop one of us from standing,” Fat Christos declared. “It’s a pity yous isn’t a Greek citizen Quentin as yous would be a good choice. Time on yous ‘ands now yous ‘ave retired, an’ a winning way with words.”

  The others all agreed it was a shame Quentin wasn’t eligible to stand.

  “Time’s gettin’ on, we ‘ad better be driving up to the Dimos,” Tall Thomas reminded them. “Perhaps we can catch the slime ball malaka in the act of accepting the bribe from the oily Kazakh.”

  “Not much chance of that, apparently he’s violently ill with food poisoning and confined to his hotel room,” Quentin volunteered.

  Laughing uproariously that the wealthy Kazakh had met his comeuppance in the form of a dodgy tummy, the village men set off for the Dimos for a spot of blackmail.

  Chapter 25

  First Love and Chaperones

  Toothless Tasos was waiting anxiously at the bus stop for Thea to return from her shopping trip so he could break the devastating news he may soon be locked away in prison for his historic lawbreaking by faking his own death.

  “We ‘ave to ave a serious talk, my little bougatsa,” Toothless Tasos announced the moment Thea and Sofia stepped down from the bus.

  “Cant’s it wait Taso? Iraklis ‘as invited Sofia out on a date an’ I need to help ‘er get ready. It’s so exciting. Iraklis is such a good catch; he’d make a lovely ‘usband for Sofia.”

  “Nona, it’s only coffee, we’re not engaged yet,” Sofia protested, secretly loving the fuss Thea was making.

  “Come on, we’ll get yous ‘ome and into that lovely yellow dress yous just bought. It wont’s clash too much with yous purple ‘air. Taso, we’ll ‘ave that chat in a bit.”

  When Tasos wanted one of his little chats it was usually to put the brakes on Thea’s spendthrift ways so she hoped to stall him, knowing he was less inclined to crossness when he had a plate of her delicious home cooked briam in front of him. Briam always convinced him she was embracing austerity as she made it with fresh vegetables straight from the garden.

  “Nona, I can’t get in the bathroom. I have to shower, what can I do, this is intolerable?” Sofia whined, stamping her foot.

  “Yous could sluice youself down in the kitchen sink,” Tasos suggested.

  “Dont’s be ridiculous Taso, the girl needs to pamper ‘erself. Who’s in the bathroom anyway?”

  “There’s a lot of groaning in Scottish accents,” Sofia called out, trying to make herself heard above the frequent flushing of the toilet.

  “I told you renting out the living room floor wasn’t practical Taso,” Thea reprimanded him. “Not with only one bathroom.”

  “At least it’s indoors, would yous rather ‘ave an outside bathroom like Prosperous Pedros?” Tasos asked, deftly deflecting the issue.

  “Certainly not. That man will never find a wife with such a primitive arrangement, whoever heard the like in these modern times of a hosepipe shower over the toilet?” Thea scoffed.

  “He doesn’t want a wife, he’s ‘appy bein’ single.”

  “What nonsense, he’d be much happier if we could fix him up,” Thea asserted, emboldened by her successful matchmaking of Sofia and Iraklis. “Sofia, come an’ put yous new dress on an’ have a squirt of my perfume. That dress is a bit short, best rub some vinegar in yous legs to deter mosquitoes, yous don’t want nasty bites makin’ yous lovely legs look ugly. Now ‘urry up, yous don’t want to keep Iraklis waitin’, it will likely make him nervous and bring ‘im out in a sweat.”

  Sofia looked quite delightful as she skipped across the harbour to the kafenion in her new yellow dress, her purple hair pulled back into a ponytail. The nose ring had vanished and her pretty face looked as fresh as a daisy without her usual Goth makeup.

  “Hello Irakli, it was nice of you to invite me out for coffee,” Sofia said shyly, joining Iraklis at an outside table.

  “Hello Sofia, you look very nice,” Iraklis stammered, reduced to a lanky string of nerves as he stood up to pull a chair out for her.

  “Doesn’t she just, such a pretty face yous ‘ave,” Mrs Kolokotronis interrupted, gripping Sofia’s cheek between her fingers as though coochy cooing an unsuspecting baby. Pulling a chair out the older woman joined them.

  “Dont’s mind me; just carry on as though I weren’t here,” Mrs Kolokotronis instructed, settling down with her knitting. “I thinks it would be better to nip the gossip in the bud by ‘aving me ‘ere as a chaperone.”

  Iraklis was mortified with embarrassment that his first ever date with a young lady had been gate crashed by his landlady, but he saw the funny side when Sofia rolled her eyes and whispered “My Nona would likely have come along too if she wasn’t stuck cleaning up the sick of that Scottish pair.”

  “Let me order you a drink,” Iraklis offered.

  “Such a good boy, I’ll have a Nescafe,” Mrs Kolokotronis piped up.

  “Sofia?” Iraklis asked, tempted to roll his eyes too but afraid Mrs Kolokotronis would catch him in the act and give him a good slap.

  “I’ll have a salted caramel chocolate mocha with a dollop of foam and extra sweetener,” Sofia said, completely confusing Iraklis who replied, “No, I wondered what you’d like to drink, perhaps a coffee or a Fanta orange.”

  “A salted caramel mocha is a sophisticated coffee they serve in Athens,” Sofia said.

  “He wont’s ave much money left to put in ‘is savings account for settlin’ down if yous go round wanting fancy coffee, even if the kafenion ‘ad even ‘eard of ‘em,” Mrs Kolokotronis advised. “Bring Sofia a Nescafe, Irakli.”

  “I’d prefer a Fanta orange,” Sofia boldly requested, resigning herself to the realisation that Greek coffee and Nescafe really were the only coffees available in Astakos.

  “Fantas not good for Iraklis’ acne, but I suppose yous is so skinny yous dont’s need to cut back on yous sugar,” Mrs Kolokotronis piped up as Iraklis went inside to order the drinks.

  “What do you like to do in your spare time Sofia,” Iraklis timidly asked he returned.

  “I like heavy metal,” Sofia replied.

  “That’s nice, we have something in common. My delivery tricycle is made of heavy metal; it’s quite hard going pedalling it uphill.”

  “She means that dreadful loud music, not actual metal,” Mrs Kolokotronis interrupted. “Yous ‘ave to excuse ‘im Sofia, he’s led a sheltered life.”

  “I also like to practice cutting hair in my spare time,” Sofia volunteered.

  “I’m sure Iraklis would be happy to model for yous, dear,” Mrs Kolokotronis offered without consulting the young man.

  “That would be nice, so far I’ve only practiced on Thea’s cat, but now it’s hardly got any fur left,” Sofia confessed. “I also like to donate blood.”

  “The Pappas had a blood transfusion after he was attacked. The funny
thing is it kind of changed his personality,” Iraklis said, relieved to have something to chat about.

  “Ooh, I never heard of that before,” Sofia said, suitably impressed.

  “Ooh it’s true enough, a totally ‘orrible little man he was and suddenly, with fresh blood, he’s all sweetness an’ light I hear. Yous saw for youself Irakli?

  “It’s true. It’s as though he had a personality transplant.”

  “That’s so cool. I wonder if my blood could make the recipients change personality,” Sofia pondered.

  “The doctor has never seen anything like it before,” Iraklis assured her.

  “Shush, cant’s yous two see I’m on the phone,” Mrs Kolokotronis chided them, whipping out her mobile.

  “Thea, they seem to be getting on very nicely, they do make a lovely couple. Po po, I know, I know. Oh dont’s worry, Iraklis isn’t likely to get up to hanky panky with me sittin’ ere with my beady eyes on the pair of ‘em. Po po, I know, I know.” Hanging up she announced, “That was yous Nona, Sofia. I told ‘er yous two is gettin’ on nicely.”

  “Po po, I know, I know,” Sofia couldn’t resist saying, bursting into laughter. Planting a kiss on the older woman’s forehead she cheekily asked “if Iraklis asks me out on a second date will you be chaperoning us again Mrs K?”

  “I think it’s best dear. At least until Iraklis can trust yous not to get fresh with ‘im.”

  Exchanging amused glances Sofia and Iraklis completely broke the ice with their infectious laughter.

  Over at Toothless Tasos’ fisherman’s cottage Thea hung up the phone, telling Tasos “Mrs Kolokotronis says they make such a nice couple. Taso, are yous even listenin’ to me? I dont’s know what’s got into yous.”

  Taking Thea by the hands Tasos led her to the deckchair and knelt by her side. “I cant’s wait any longer Thea, I ‘ave to tell yous now. Please, ‘ear me out and promise yous wont’s leave me.”