The Calico Heart

by Patricia Kiyono

  "Why, David Miller! Are you propositioning me?"

  He grinned again but, instead of answering, pointed to the oversized gift bag, overflowing with festive tissue that her friend Ellen had handed them just before they got in the RV. "This is from all of us at the Stitching Post," she’d told them. "A going away gift, but you can’t open it until you’re on your way..."

  "Think we’re far enough on our way to open that?"

  "I don’t see why not," Sylvia responded and lifted the big bag onto her lap. She reached into the bag and pulled out a heavy cylinder wrapped in yellow tissue. "The tag says to open this one first."

  Dave glanced over as she peeled back the bright yellow paper.

  "Oh yum, sparkling cider! The tag says it’s to christen our RV on its maiden voyage. Think it’s okay if we drink it instead of smashing it over the hood?

  "I don’t think they’ll mind."

  She reached in the bag again then laughed and held up a pair of champagne flutes. "I suspect you’re right, honey."

  "Smart ladies," he said, returning his attention to the road. "What else did they put in that bag? A picnic hamper? Maybe a CD by The Londoners or Barry Manilow?"

  "I don’t think so," she said. "It’s something big... but it’s soft." She pulled the bulky parcel from the bag and began to pull back the multi-colored layers of tissue covering it. As the last layer fell away, she gasped in surprise.

  "What is it, honey?" Dave asked, taking his eyes from the road at the sound. "Are you okay?"

  "Oh, Dave!" she sobbed. "They’ve finished my travel quilt. Our travel quilt." Tears flowed down her cheeks, but she smiled as she stroked the beautifully stitched cranberry hearts. "It’s just like I always pictured it. Only bigger."

  He reached into his pocket and pulled out his handkerchief then passed it to her. "It’s beautiful... just like you," he said as she wiped her eyes. "This heart looks familiar. Isn’t that the pattern on your jewelry box?"

  "And on my necklace," she said, fingering the newly repaired pendant. "That’s why I planned to use it to make a hanging quilt. I thought I’d embroider the names of the places we visited on the blocks." She unfolded the quilt slightly. "Everyone in the group must have all worked on this. See how big it is?"

  "Big enough to fit that queen-sized bed?"

  Sylvia unfolded more of the quilt and nodded. "I think so. Oh my goodness, look at this, honey."

  She pointed to a heart in the middle of the quilt where her friends had embroidered the date and the words "Bon Voyage, Sylvia and Dave!"

  "Very nice," Dave agreed.

  "I can’t wait to embroider our first destination on here," Sylvia said, reaching for the quilting bag she’d placed on the floor behind her seat when they packed. She pulled out a small portable quilt hoop and a skein of floss.

  "Which memory heart do you think I should embroider first?"

  "It doesn’t matter to me, honey," he said, laying his hand over her smaller one. "So long as we’re making all the memories together."

  About the Authors:

  During her first career, Patricia Kiyono taught elementary music, computer classes, elementary classrooms, and junior high social studies. She now teaches music education at the university level.

  She lives in southwest Michigan with her husband, not far from her children and grandchildren. Current interests, aside from writing, include sewing, crocheting, scrapbooking, and music. A love of travel and an interest in faraway people inspires her to create stories about different cultures.

  Stephanie Michels considers herself a “Jill of All Trades” having worked as a computer trainer, advertising copywriter, cosmetologist, personnel agent, radio DJ, magazine columnist, and a financial planner among other things. She recently left the corporate world to focus on writing full time.

  Raised in Michigan, she lived in South Carolina, Missouri, and Germany, before returning to the Mitten State to raise her family. When she isn’t writing, you can usually find her reading, playing word games on the computer, or spending time with family and friends.

  The Calico Heart is her first novel published with writing partner, Patricia Kiyono.

  Also from Astraea Press:

  Chapter One

  He was staring at her again.

  She knew it, despite his outward lack of interest. His long, lean frame was draped casually on the wooden chair in the outdoor section of the Appolon Grill. Dark shades covered his eyes, but the jet-black eyebrows above them rose and tilted her way every time she moved. Unlike locals, who occasionally threw friendly greetings her way, this man stayed in his seat and silently watched her.

  Francie Vasileiou bent her head and focused her attention on the textbook in front of her. Inwardly, she was flattered by his interest. But she reminded herself she was here in Athens to further her education, not to find a man. She sipped her water and struggled to ignore him and concentrate on the words on the page.

  The warm breeze calmed her nerves as she sat at her usual table in the back corner of the restaurant. Most tourists preferred to sit at the outer edges of the seating area with a view of Mount Olympus and the spectacular sunset. But here, next to the kitchen, she wasn’t distracted by the conversation and the view. The light from the kitchen allowed her to continue reading until Kostos closed down for the night.

  Her job here at the restaurant was perfect. She worked enough hours so she could pay her living expenses, and when she wasn’t cooking or waitressing, Kostos allowed her to use one of his tables for studying. Even with the commotion from the kitchen and the restaurant patrons’ conversations, this setting was much better for concentrating than the noisy apartment building where she lived.

  It took some effort, but finally the words on the page became concrete ideas, and she was transported back in time to the world of ancient Greece, to the time of the patricians. The structures on the Acropolis were not ruins but proud, gleaming works of art. Toga-draped people walked the dusty streets, while the less fortunate hawked their wares from makeshift stalls.

  “Francie? We’re done for the night. I need to close up now.” Kostos’s gentle touch on her shoulder brought her back to the present.

  She closed her book and rose to help with the process of bringing the tables into the enclosure and closing up. As she worked she glanced around, but the stranger was nowhere to be seen. They finished the task quickly, and Francie gathered her books to head back to her apartment. A sudden movement in the shadows made her shudder.

  “What’s wrong, Francie?”

  She hesitated. Was she being paranoid? No, it would be better to play it safe.

  “Kostos, could you walk with me back to my place?”

  His swift intake of breath and the pleasure lighting his face reminded her of the man’s interest. He had made it clear he would like to be more than her boss. She clarified her request. “It’s just that—there was a man here earlier. I’ve seen him before. He was staring at me and—”

  “Say no more. I will make sure he does not harm you.”

  They took the ten-minute walk to her apartment in relative silence. Once there, she knew she would have to be firm about not inviting him in. She would have to—

  “Have you seen the man following us?”

  Kostos’s question caught her off guard. She had nearly forgotten about the mysterious man in her preoccupation with extracting herself from the kind, unassuming man walking beside her. She shook her head, assuring herself as well as Kostos that the danger was past.

  “No, I haven’t seen him since before we left the restaurant. He’s been in the restaurant at least three times this week. Maybe I should try reading at home more.”

  “But you said you were unable to study in your room because of your noisy neighbors. You know you are welcome to study in the restaurant any time.”

  “I know. Thank you so much. You’ve been a lifesaver, in more ways than one.”

  “It is my pleasure. I will see you to your room.”

  She stop
ped at the gate to the building. “I’m fine now, Kostos. Thanks for walking me home.” She turned to open the gate, but a beefy hand grabbed her arm and stopped her.

  “Agapi mou—my love.” His voice dropped to a growl as he hauled her against him.

  Francie struggled to breathe as his arms entrapped her. Her mild-mannered employer had become an animal. What had happened to the gentleman who greeted and served his customers each night? Where was the sweet man who had helped her when she’d had no money and no place to go?

  She fought against the steel bands wrapped around her midsection. His face was pressed against hers, his awkward, sloppy kisses wetting her face. Between the kisses, he murmured endearments.

  “Latria mou—my darling.”

  “Kostos, please let me go—I can’t breathe!” But the kisses and endearments continued.

  She pushed at him and turned her head sideways to get her mouth away from his and took a deep breath, intending to scream. But before a sound came out, he was lifted away from her and lay sprawled on the street, moaning. A dark figure stood over him, turning a familiar face toward her.

  “You’d better go inside now,” the stranger instructed her. And then he was gone.

  Shock immobilized her for a moment, but Kostos’s groan galvanized her. She picked up her books, unlocked the security gate, and went through, remembering to lock it behind her. Plaintive wails from the street pushed her to run the two flights up to her apartment. She didn’t stop until she was in her room, the door locked, the windows shuttered and latched. Thank goodness the mystery man from the restaurant had appeared when he did.

  But in the back of her mind she wondered if perhaps the stranger was as great a threat to her well-being as Kostos.

  ****

  Two streets and half a world away, Alex Leonidis poured himself a drink and paced the floor of his richly appointed sitting room. His reputation and record of success as a private detective allowed him to live in much greater comfort than the shabby apartment building he had just left.

  Tracking the lovely Francie Vasileiou was a challenge to his state of mind. He had solved dozens of cases involving beautiful women and had never had a problem seeing them as anything but the criminals they were. But this woman, with her wide, child-like eyes, her quiet, unassuming appearance, stirred an unfamiliar yearning in him. Was it possible Zotis’s suspicions were incorrect? His new employer had insisted the missing artifacts could be traced to her, but how could a mere student have gained such access to them? It was his job to find out.

  He sat at his writing desk, opened his laptop, and reviewed the notes sent to him.

  The report listed the basic facts. Name: Francine Genevieve Vasileiou, aged twenty-seven. Parents: the renowned Greek archaeologist, Georges Vasileiou and French-Canadian actress Genevieve Dumont. Raised in Athens, Montreal, and Los Angeles, she was fluent in Greek, French, and English. Studied ancient Greek history and graduated at the top of her class at Stanford University, where she had also obtained her master’s degree. Presently enrolled in the PhD program in archaeology at the University of Athens. With her father, she had participated in archaeological digs from the time she was able to walk.

  Miss Vasileiou had been a member of the teams discovering the artifacts most recently stolen. She was the obvious thread between the thefts. But police investigations had cleared her. Zotis insisted the police had made a mistake.

  Alex had observed her for the past two weeks, learning her routine, watching her interact with her classmates, professors, her employer, and her customers. Nothing in her manner suggested a devious criminal mind. But he knew from experience that looks were deceiving. Somehow, Zotis claimed, this fresh-faced college student had found a way to smuggle priceless Greek artifacts into the hands of the black market.

  Solving the puzzle would be a coup, and then maybe he would take some time off. Perhaps he could visit his mother, who now lived in her native America with her second husband.

  His cell phone chirped, and he stood as he slid it out of his pocket. Recognizing the number on the caller ID, he frowned. He jabbed at the phone to connect and raised it to his ear. “Yes?”

  “You should show more respect to the man who is paying your salary.”

  Alex fought back a groan. He focused on projecting a less antagonistic tone. “Sorry, I was studying my notes. What can I do for you?”

  “I’m checking on your progress. Are you sure you can’t solve this without going through an entire dig?”

  Alex took a deep breath, willing himself not to sigh. “We’ve been over this, Zotis. The only way we can find out how the pieces are stolen is to catch the thieves in the act. If we find the connection, hopefully we’ll be able to recover some of the stolen articles.”

  “But the expense—”

  “Will be more than worth it for you. Some of the details and expenses are covered by the university, since this dig was already planned.”

  After more reassurances and divulging a few plans, Alex disconnected and sat at his desk once more. He hoped his employer’s insistence in knowing every detail would not be a hindrance to his investigation.

  He refocused on the task at hand. As he had told his employer, the dig had already been planned. Zotis’s estate included a rocky cliff overlooking the Aegean Sea. It was believed the cliffs once housed a small community of cave dwellers. The University of Athens had secured permission from the previous owner and had even done the preliminary excavation, but the dig had been abandoned when the estate changed hands. By convincing Zotis to personally invest in it, Alex was able to revive the project and place Francie and himself in the crew.

  He knew the stolen goods had been taken by someone within the trusted few who had actually handled the artifacts. There was, of course, Francie’s mentor, Professor Milos Theodoris. He seemed harmless enough, but his absentmindedness could be a cover for a scheming mind. Other than Francie, Professor Theodoris was the only person who had been involved in both digs from which artifacts had gone missing. But the professor, too, had been cleared by the police.

  Francie was the more likely culprit. She reminded him of another seemingly fragile woman. After he had been taken in by Katarina’s supposed helplessness, he vowed he’d never again be deceived by wide-eyed innocence. His experience with the young heiress had been expensive and humiliating. Fortunately, she had found someone with pockets deep enough to satisfy her every whim, so he didn’t have to deal with her anymore.

  Why couldn’t all women be like his mother? She was the only woman he trusted implicitly. She was strong and fiercely loyal to those she loved. She had been his rock, his anchor, until she could no longer live with his father’s overbearing manner and philandering ways. She had returned to her native America while Alex was attending Panteion University. He would have gone with her, but she had convinced him to complete his studies before moving. By the time he finished his degree, Katarina had had her claws in him. And since then, he had allowed no woman into his heart.

  Francine Vasileiou was not going to be the one to break down the barriers he had worked so hard to erect. If she was the mastermind behind the thefts, he would learn her secrets. If she was merely an accomplice, he would trip her into leading him to the perpetrator. Her soft, gentle ways would not work on him. Eventually, she would make a mistake and the case would be solved.

  Finding his glass empty, he refilled it. Hopefully, Francie would make a mistake before he made one.

  Tomorrow would be an early day, and there was still much to do tonight. He sat down at the desk with his notes and tried to forget his physical reaction to the lovely suspect.

  Astraea Press

  Pure. Fiction.

  www.astraeapress.com

 

 

 
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