Greek Island Mysteries Boxed Set (Books 1-2-3): Gripping, psychological mystery/thrillers destined to shock you!
Page 64
With slightly trembling hands, Electra raised her hot, Greek coffee to her chapped lips. Knowing her children were on their way home, she smiled as the hot beverage traveled down, offering comforting bliss to her strained body.
‘How you manage to drink hot coffee in this heat, amazes me,’ Gregory’s husky voice made her jump.
‘And what would have me drinking, my son? A frappe? A freddo cappuccino? Or maybe a mojito?’
Gregory’s laughter warmed her better than the strong, steamy coffee.
‘How’s working at the bar for the summer coming along?’ she asked, patting the worn-in armchair beside her. Her lanky son approached, kissed her tenderly on her forehead and settled next to her.
‘Money’s good…’
‘Money isn’t everything…’ his mother interrupted him. ‘You should be having fun on your last summer before Uni.’
‘I am, mama. The music’s great, I drink for free, my mates all come round and I meet girls. What more can a guy ask for?’ he replied with a mischievous smile gracing his handsome face.
‘I hope local girls and not those slattern, easy European girls on holiday.’
Gregory placed his hand upon his mother’s. He raised his eyebrows and looked into her beady eyes; the portal to her fiery soul. ‘Now, that’s just bordering racist.’
‘I don’t care what it is. I care only for you and your sister.’
‘Where is Natalie, by the way?’ Gregory asked, before his mother got too ‘worked-up’; his favorite word to describe her passionate speeches about her children.
‘She called, said she was on her way home. She was at Melina’s.’
‘I bet she was,’ Gregory muttered and sprang up. Thankfully, his mother’s ears did not catch his words. She was drowsy after a long day of cleaning and serving.
‘What’s that, boy?’
‘I said, good night. I’m off to bed.’
‘Good night, my treasure.’
Soon, both had drifted away to dream land. Gregory in his single bed, under the posters of pretty girls on big bikes and first league football teams, dreamt of life in the big city. Fall was approaching quickly. Electra dozed-off in her rocking chair, staying there to hear her daughter return to the family nest. Yet, hours later, sun rays attacked through the window, spreading light around the minimal kitchen and Natalie had not yet returned home.
The bright, Greek sun slowly rose from the oceanic horizon and began illuminating the narrow streets. Old-lady Persephone, a woman of ample proportions, was first to open her blue, wooden door, releasing the tantalizing aroma of freshly-baked bread. Her black-clothed figure ambled across her long yard and picked up the garden hose by the gate that had grown golden with the sunrise. Her flower-filled garden offered her much pride and Persephone struggled hard to maintain her flowers during summer’s scorching heat waves. Her trick was to water them early in the morning before the flaming sun dried up the earth. As the perfumed scent of her red roses surrounded her, she looked around.
Her fragile throat grappled to voice her strident screams. The green, garden hose fell from her shaking hands and Persephone stumbled backwards before falling to the wet grass. At eighty-two, and after witnessing a World War as a child, eras of depression, eras of oppression, the violence in the world from her television, her husband’s body after his fatal car crash, Persephone had thought nothing could shock her anymore.
She thought wrong.
The sight on the rooftop of the abandoned house opposite her garden brought her to her knees. A mutilated, headless, nude body had been speared through the house’s cut, rusty antenna pole. The woman’s breasts had both been sliced off, leaving behind two round, bloody patches. Her stomach had been cut open and her insides were dangling out, dripping blood upon the grubby roof tiles. Persephone closed her eyes, prayed for strength and placed her hands on the moist ground, pushing herself up. As much as her elderly body allowed, she rushed towards her house. Screams from the town square echoed around and followed her into her home, letting her know she would not be the only one calling the police.
Soon, people had gathered by the closed coffee shops and tavernas of the ‘middle’ town square –the town boasted three in total-and, sighting the brutal crime, stood motionless in complete shock. Never before, had a murder taken place on their tranquil island. Even the island’s lone police officer had frozen below the gruesome display. At the youthful age of twenty-six, Valentina had only two years of service under her gun-carrying belt. In those two years, she had dealt with a couple of bar fights, a case of domestic abuse and a few cases of stolen wallets. Mostly, she kept the one-room police station clean and presentable, and brewed coffee, which she enjoyed while checking her Facebook page. Totally unprepared, she sealed off the area around the deteriorating, dilapidated cottage and called the mainland headquarters.
AMAZON:
https://www.amazon.com/Murder-Display-riveting-stand-alone-Mysteries-ebook/dp/B01NAN0WYY/ref=sr_1_2?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1507563473&sr=1-2
AMAZON.UK:
https://www.amazon.co.uk/Murder-Display-riveting-stand-alone-Mysteries-ebook/dp/B01NAN0WYY/ref=sr_1_6?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1507563474&sr=1-6