by Kate Collins
blog by Goddess Anon
Someone Please Bore a Hole Through My Brain
This evening I had to suffer through a dinner with the biggest bore on the face of the planet. He actually snapped his fingers to get the waiter’s attention. Who does that? And then when I thought my day couldn’t get any worse . . .
CHAPTER THREE
Tuesday
After seeing Nicholas off to school, I headed to The Parthenon for a cup of Greek coffee before the diner opened to the public. I couldn’t wait to share the news about the Treasure of Athena and what it could mean for my grandparents. To my surprise I found my sisters Maia and Selene and my mother gathered at the counter, laughing and poking one another. I peered between their shoulders, saw them reading my blog on Selene’s laptop, and my palms immediately began to sweat.
“Reading tea leaves!” Maia said, she and the others chortling. “That sounds exactly like something Delphi would do.”
“Except Delphi reads coffee grounds,” I said, wiping my palms on my slacks.
“Coffee grounds, tea leaves, what’s the difference?” Selene asked. “It’s still funny.”
I honestly hadn’t thought my online journal would take off so quickly—or that my sisters would find it. I had been very careful to keep any personal references out of the blog. Now I had even more reason to do so. If my family were to find out I was talking about them, they wouldn’t find it so amusing, and I’d be in the doghouse. But who knew? Maybe they’d learn something from it.
Maia pointed to Selene’s hairdo-of-the-day, her long black curls puffed out at least three inches on one side of her head, a huge silver comb holding back the other side. “Remember the blog where Goddess Anon wrote about her sister’s big hairdo? Look at yours today.”
“I like my hair this way,” Selene said with a pout. She worked as a hair stylist at Over the Top Hair Salon and liked to style her hair differently every day. Today she was wearing a soft green knit top with the shoulders cut out, white jeans, and white T-strap sandals, while Maia, an instructor at the Zen Garden Yoga Center, had on a bright pink yoga tank top with matching bra and black-and-pink-print yoga pants with black sandals.
My mother, The Parthenon’s manager, wore her usual Grecian blue blouse, black skirt, a heavy, gold bangle bracelet, matching necklace, and a pair of chunky gold earrings she and my dad had bought in Santorini on their honeymoon. Her thick, short black curls framed her plump face and her dark eyes shone with her vitality and verve for life.
With plates balanced along her arms, Yiayiá backed through one of the kitchen doors and set the toast and egg breakfasts in front of my sisters. I looked up from the laptop when I heard Pappoús clink his trusty metal spatula against the order wheel to get my attention.
“Athena, breakfast for you?”
“I ate with Nicholas,” I called. He gave me a nod and a wink and went back to work.
My mother clicked her tongue in disgust as she pointed to the last entry. “This poor young woman has an anóitos boyfriend who snaps his fingers at the waiters. Who does he think he is?”
“You’re right about him being a fool, Mama,” Maia said, showing off her knowledge of the language. “I’d dump him if I were her. There are plenty of other fish in the sea.”
“Too bad I don’t know this girl,” Mama said. “I could match her up with the man of her dreams”—she snapped her fingers—“just like that. I am Hera, you know.”
I couldn’t hold back a shudder.
My mother was named Hera after the goddess of goddesses, women, and marriage, and firmly believed that her true calling in life was to be a matchmaker. She’d named all four of her daughters after women of Greek mythology: Selene, at thirty-six the oldest of us, after the goddess of the moon; me, Athena, her second child, after the goddess of war, wisdom, poetry, and art; and Maia, twenty-eight, after the goddess of the fields, which fit her because she was a vegetarian, something none of the family was able to wrap their Mediterranean minds around.
Delphi, however, had been named after the famed Oracle of Delphi, a high priestess who gave people predictions and guidance. At first offended that she hadn’t been given a goddess name, my baby sister had finally pounced upon the oracle myth, deciding that she, too, like her namesake, could help people with her gift of foresight. The scary thing was that every once in a while, she actually got it right.
My mother nudged me. “Everything going well between you and Kevin?”
“Couldn’t be better,” I said, scooting onto a stool at the counter as Yiayiá served up my coffee. “Shouldn’t all of you be finishing up? It’s almost time to open the diner.”
“We still have a few minutes,” Selene said, still hunched over the computer. “This is a hoot, Thenie. You should read it.”
“That’s okay,” I said, “I have better things to do with my time.”
“Like having a good breakfast,” Mama said. “You’re too skinny, Athena. You should’ve had Pappoús make you warm toast and a nice ham and feta omelet.”
“Thanks, but you know I eat with Nicholas.”
“Bring that boy here then,” she said. “We’ll fatten him up. He’s too skinny.”
“He has to catch the bus, Mama.”
“The bus goes right by the diner every morning,” Mama said in her no-nonsense voice. “I’ll talk to Janice. She’ll stop right out front. Problem solved. Now, eat Maia’s eggs before you leave. She never eats them.”
“Vegetarian,” Maia reminded her with a mouth full of toast and jelly.
“I’d better get moving,” Selene said as she shut the computer. “You don’t know what you’re missing, Thenie. Everyone at the hair salon reads the blog. It’s a riot.”
I wanted to give myself a high five. My boss at the paper had said I didn’t have a strong enough voice to be an author, but I couldn’t express my excitement in front of my family. “Good for them” was all I said.
Maia turned on her stool and tugged my long hair. “Try reading it sometime. Maybe it’d put a smile on your face instead of that frown you’re wearing.”
“Where’s Delphi?” Mama asked. “Has anyone seen her?”
“She’s running late as usual,” Maia said. “She said she had to take something to the garden center she found at a flea market yesterday.”
“Speaking of Spencer’s”—I finished my coffee and slid off the stool—“I’ve got to get to work. See you all at dinner.”
Mama crooked her finger at me. “Thenie, come here a minute.”
I followed her into the kitchen. “What’s up?”
She stroked a strand of hair away from my forehead. “I know why you look so down today, my moró. Your dad and I heard the news about the condominium project and feel the same way. We’re at our wits’ ends trying to figure out how to stop it.”
Actually, she was right about me feeling down. I hadn’t been able to shake the dreadful thought of Little Greece being demolished, along with the diner my grandparents had run since they were a young married couple, and the apartment they’d lived in just as long. I was surprised that this hadn’t been the topic of this morning’s conversation. But perhaps they’d discussed it before I’d arrived.
Obviously, something needed to be done to stop the demolition, but the only solution I’d come up with was that everyone in Little Greece needed to modernize their shops, which wasn’t going to happen overnight. For The Parthenon, that meant repairing and painting the stucco front, putting in a new floor, painting over the old, faded murals of Greece on the walls, and—the biggest change of all—adding modern items to the menu similar to those I’d seen in Greek restaurants in Chicago.
Before that could happen, however, Pappoús had to be convinced to sell the Treasure of Athena so he’d have the money he needed. That also meant convincing Case Donnelly that Pappoús was, in fact, the owner of the statue. If he wanted it for his family’s museum, he’d have to buy it. But I needed to find that proof of ownership first.
Perhaps Kevin was right. The
Greek Merchants’ Association would have to file an injunction against the Talbots to stall for time. That would give the shop owners the opportunity to start modernizing. I made a mental note to bring it up at the meeting.
“We can start by making sure everyone is at the GMA meeting tonight to listen to what Kevin and I have to say,” I told my mom. “Maybe our ideas will help.”
Oops. There I was, making plans for speaking at their meeting. I wanted to smack myself on the forehead for allowing myself to be sucked back into the Greek drama again.
Mama put her arm around my shoulders and gave me a squeeze. “Kevin is a smart boy, isn’t he? I knew you and he would get back together.”
I had to suppress that shudder again.
* * *
I arrived at the garden center to find Delphi lugging a tall, wrought-iron whirligig through the store heading for the outdoor garden area. She was wearing a Southwestern poncho in purples, creams, and greens, a bright purple scarf around her neck, blue jeans, and purple flats. She waved an elbow at me and proceeded to back straight out the door into the yard.
Because my dad didn’t have a strict dress code and I worked mainly in the office as bookkeeper, I wore whatever I wanted. Today I’d chosen cream pants with a mint green and cream top and a mint green cardigan.
My dad had created the job for me when I came back home, which provided me with income and didn’t require too much of my time. The relaxed schedule also allowed me to have breakfast and dinner with my son and take time off for school events. During our busy season, I also helped customers in the garden center with selection and design. I didn’t have any formal training, but I did have a passion for it. Plus, I’d practically grown up at the garden center, learning all about horticulture from my father.
Right now, however, I often had hours to fill. So, besides filling in as salesperson and cashier when Delphi or Dad were busy, I’d also given the big indoor center and outdoor garden area a more modern feeling, as my dad tended not to notice those things and Delphi’s head was usually in the clouds. Sometimes I even had time to work on my blog, but usually I saved that for after closing time, when I had the office to myself.
Dad had inherited Spencer’s Garden Center from his father, who had purchased the abandoned building and its acreage for a pittance and started a business doing what he loved best—growing plants. Spencer’s sat at the northern end of Greene Street, at the very edge of the tourist area, across from Lake Michigan and four blocks up from Little Greece, where The Parthenon was located.
“Thenie,” my dad said, stepping out of the office, “there’s a news bulletin on TV you should hear.”
I started to follow him when Delphi stuck her head into the shop and called, “Thenie! Hurry! It’s the statue!” Then she gestured for me to come to the garden area.
“I’ll be back in a minute, Pops,” I called, and hurried toward the back door, fearing what I’d find. As soon as I stepped outside, Delphi pointed to the statue, which was now back down on the ground. “Someone must have broken in last night and knocked it over. I hope it’s not damaged.”
My heart raced in dread as I knelt at the statue’s base. And there I saw the little brass plate with the etching on it hanging open at its hinge, exposing a hidden cavity, just as Case Donnelly had described. I used my flashlight app to look inside, but the compartment was empty.
I muttered a curse under my breath. Case must have returned to get his proof of ownership, because he was the only one I knew who was aware of the secret compartment. Damn it! Why had I trusted him? I pressed the brass plate back in place, heard it snap shut, and rose in a fury. “Help me get her up.”
“Should we call the police?” Delphi asked.
I wanted to but I had no proof Case had taken the document, and without proof, what was the point of calling them? I fumed under my breath at Case. Perhaps I should say something was taken and give them his name and description. That would teach him not to mess with me. The only thing was, my conscience wouldn’t let me.
To avoid alarming my sister any further I said, “I’ll bet it was Oscar. I heard him rooting around out here last night before I left to go to dinner. He must have jumped on top of the statue to get over the fence and knocked her off balance.”
A small raccoon who we guessed was not even one year old tipping over a marble statue seemed like a hard sell, but Delphi bought it wholeheartedly. Working together, we hefted the statue to her feet and brushed her off. Heading inside, we met Dad coming out, a shocked look on his face.
“Harry Pepper’s dead.”
“Mr. Talbot’s assistant?” I asked.
“They’re already calling it a homicide,” he said, starting back toward the office. He shook his head in disbelief. “Poor Harry. I just can’t believe it.”
Mama knocked on the front picture window, so Delphi hurried to let her in the door. “John, girls,” she said breathlessly, “did you hear about Harry?”
As the four of us stood in front of the TV mounted up in a corner of the office, Mama said, “Didn’t I tell you something fishy was going on? First Grayson Talbot dies in a freak accident, and now his assistant is murdered. That can’t be a coincidence.”
The text scrolling across the bottom of the screen read: Harry Pepper, longtime assistant to the late Grayson Talbot Sr., was found dead inside the Talbot mansion early this morning. Anyone with information is urged to call the Sequoia Police Department’s Detective Bureau. Stay tuned for further updates.
A frightening thought raced through my mind. The Treasure of Athena had been owned by Grayson Talbot Sr. The Talbots’ estate sale was where my pappoús had acquired it. Had Case come back to Spencer’s looking for his proof of ownership, found the statue’s compartment empty, and gone to the Talbot mansion seeking it?
I was shaking as I sat down behind the desk.
Three things were apparent: Case had been determined to prove he owned the statue; he had conned me into showing him where I kept the paperwork; and Harry Pepper, who was in the process of tying up the deceased mogul’s business affairs, had access to all of Talbot’s documents, which might have included the missing proof of ownership.
Could the man I met yesterday be a cold-blooded murderer?
CHAPTER FOUR
“I don’t believe it,” I muttered, then realized I’d said it aloud and quickly went to the coffee machine on the console table and put in a pod to make myself a cup of decaf.
“I know exactly how you feel,” Mama said, putting her arm around me for a squeeze.
I stirred sugar into my coffee and tried to pull my thoughts together. I wanted to tell someone about my scare from the night before, but the last thing I needed was another lecture like Kevin’s. I also didn’t want to admit to anyone that I might have made a huge mistake trusting a stranger, yet the truth was that Case Donnelly could be a murderer. He had gone to great lengths to find the statue and was now on the hunt for his proof of ownership. Would he have killed someone to reclaim them both?
Delphi was standing in front of the desk reading something on her cell phone.
“Here’s what I found online,” she said. “Police believe someone entered Grayson Talbot’s office through a pair of open French doors on the home’s main level and forced Harry Pepper to open the safe. According to Grayson Talbot Junior, who found the body, Pepper was slumped over a desk, apparently having been murdered by suffocation.”
With a heavy sigh, my dad took off his glasses and polished them with a tissue. Tall, slender, and fair-haired like me, he had on his standard blue work shirt with navy jeans and black sneakers. “I can’t believe anyone would’ve wanted to kill Harry. How is your father doing, Hera?”
“Poor papa,” Mama said. “He was so distraught at the news he cried. He actually cried.” Turning to us she said, “I don’t know if you girls remember this, but Harry and your pappoús started The Parthenon together as young men. For a time, they were as close as brothers, until the economy took a nosedive and the t
ourists stopped coming. It was so bad The Parthenon nearly closed.”
“But Yiayiá saved the day,” Delphi said. “Right?”
“Yes, she did,” Mama replied. “She changed the menu, spruced up the décor, and took over the front of the restaurant. But that caused a falling-out between your pappoús and Harry, who wanted to keep everything the way it was. Then Harry got a job offer from Grayson Talbot and reluctantly accepted.”
Dad sighed heavily. “Poor Harry. He was such a gentle man. I can’t believe anyone could’ve done this to him.”
“Bad things happen when you get involved with the Talbots,” Mama continued. “When Harry accepted the job, it upset my father greatly, and the two men went their separate ways. They didn’t talk much after that, but I would see Harry around sometimes. He was always kind to me.”
Delphi went over to her and gave her a hug, laying her head on Mom’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, Mama.”
“Thank you, my little moró,” she said, patting her back, using the Greek word for “baby.” No matter how old we were, we would always be her babies.
She went over to give my dad a hug and kiss. “I have to get back to the diner, John. I just wanted to make sure you’d heard.”
Dad tilted up her chin and smiled. “Thank you, Hera, my dear. I’ll see you at home this evening.”
“Girls, I’ll see you at the diner later,” Mama said as she swept out the door.
“I’m going to have a cup of coffee,” I said. “Dad, would you like one?”
“No, thanks, Thenie.” After another deep sigh, Dad put his glasses back on and checked his watch. “Time to open the shop. Life moves on.”
“I’ll take a cup.” Delphi dropped into one of the wicker chairs facing the desk and propped her feet on top. “My usual—half-cream, one packet of sugar.”
I took an empty cup off the shelf above the coffee maker and handed it to her. “Here. You have legs.” As I turned to go, I gasped inwardly. I’d sounded just like my mother.