The finger of blame was pointed at Gorgeous Yiorgos as it was he who had proclaimed he had found Vasilis dead in his bed.
“Can’t you tell the difference between a passed out drunk and a corpse?” Vangelis the chemist asked him.
“He was dead I swear,” Gorgeous Yiorgos insisted “yous all thought so too when yous kissed him in church.”
“Thank goodness they don’t allow cremation in the village,” Quentin observed “or Vasilis would be nothing more than a pile of ashes by now.”
Catching sight of Stavroula by the graveside Vasilis recollected the awful blackmail letter from the Pappas claiming Stavroula was apparently his love child. Throwing his arms around Stavroula he said, “I am so touched yous came to my funeral, yous kind, thoughtful and lovely woman.”
“Don’t get carried away,” Stavroula told him “you know we always give everyone a good send off, even if we hate them.”
Sotiris, Vasilis’ old neighbour who had spent the last thirty years feuding with him over the boundary of the disputed olive tree, sidled up to Vasilis and confessed he had been so grief stricken when he heard of his death he chopped the disputed olive tree down. “Yous malaka fool,” Vasilis shouted “what we feud over now?”
The Pappas had quite enough of this graveside cock up that had deprived him of his rightful place as the centre of attention. “What I want to know is who is going to pay for this hole and the funeral service?”
“Yous can use the same ‘ole to bury Tassia’s old uncle in,” volunteered Fat Christos “I ‘ave just ‘ad phone call to say he has snuffed it.”
The Pappas cheered up a bit at the thought the hole would not be wasted and he would have yet another funeral service to conduct. Tassia burst into tears as it was the first she had heard of the death of her old uncle.
Chapter 57
The Heiress
Tassia’s ancient old uncle was the richest man in the village, having amassed a small fortune over charging unsuspecting tourists in the small store he preferred people grandly to refer to as a supermarket. Just like his brother, Tassia’s deceased father, her uncle hated spending any of his money, so Tassia, as his only surviving relative, stood to inherit a sizeable amount, not to mention the supermarket, his house and a lot of olive trees.
Fat Christos gave himself a pat on the back for having the foresight to propose to Tassia before she became an heiress. He would hate for her to think he was after her money even though he was. As he comforted Tassia she confessed “I never even liked him, it was just a shock hearing the news on top of Vasilis rising from the dead. I suppose now I will have to take over the running of the shop or sell it.”
“We could always run it together my love,” Fat Christos suggested, thinking it would provide them with a most handsome living plus give him some gravitas in the village.
“I could scrap the fishing boat as the stupid government are handing over cash bribes to stop fishermen from fishing. We must speak to the Pappas at once about bringing the wedding forward and make everything official.”
Tassia agreed, reminding Christos of his promise to give her a baby as soon as they were married. Fat Christos said “All in good time, let us get the boat and finances sorted first. I will tell my mother to hurry up with your wedding dress.”
“Well if she wouldn’t be offended I could buy one from a shop now I am about to be a wealthy woman,” Tassia shyly suggested.
“Nonsense we don’t want to be wasting money on something you will only wear once, my mother is doing marvellous things with that bit of old polyester she dug out of the attic and dyed white,” said Fat Christos, determined to put his foot down and let Tassia know he intended to control the marital purse strings.
Having made their plans for the future the engaged couple decided to join the other villagers at the wake for Vasilis at Stavroula’s taverna. Mail order Masha had been in no mood to party as her lips were still painfully inflated and she could not drink anything without dribbling. She decided the bandaged mummy look didn’t suit her at all.
Vasilis persuaded her to join the party by promising to give up the demon drink, and winning her round with the solid gold brooch in the shape of a donkey, with diamonds for eyes, he discovered had been buried with him in his breast pocket. He could not turn down the chance to be around Stavroula his love child, though he had not yet made up his mind to tell her he was her father.
He would discuss it with Masha first he decided. He also had to determine what approach to take with the Pappas who he had no intention of paying any blackmail money to. He had to play it carefully as he did not want Stavroula to hear of her parentage from such a malicious source.
Gorgeous Yiorgos was fed up with being the butt of everyone’s jokes as they teased him endlessly about confusing a passed out drunk with a corpse. He slunk away quietly, deciding to call on Petula and give her some more help with the tricky hill start manoeuvre she kept stalling on.
Moronic Mitsos decided to launch his unofficial investigation into the disappearing underwear. He received plenty of slaps across the head as his offensive line of questioning upset the village women, putting his big foot into delicate underwear matters without any tact. After one slap too many he too slunk away, taking refuge in the hardware store where he discovered Bald Yannis’ underwear catalogue stash.
Not quite managing to put two and two together, he presumed Bald Yannis was planning to expand into ladies underwear to go with his hideous old lady dresses and missed the glaringly obvious clue Bald Yannis was in fact the elusive underwear thief.
Prosperous Pedros was most put out Stavroula’s cold buffet had no vegetarian options and got into a heated argument with her when she insisted snails were vegetables. “Po po these non vegetarian snails are only good for fish bait,” he said, sticking them in his pocket to take home to put on his fishing lines.
Masha was becoming most suspicious of the amount of attention her husband was lavishing on Stavroula, paying her endless compliments. She wasn’t in the slightest bit jealous as she believed no one could compete with her in the beauty stakes, even with the disadvantage of a bandaged face and dribbling lips. Nevertheless she suspected Vasilis was up to something and planned to have it out with him when she got him home.
“I think being buried alive has left that old fool Vasilis not right in the ‘ed,” Stavroula confided to Mrs Kolokotronis. “He’s been fussing around me saying nice things, which is ‘orrible, all afternoon. It’s not normal I tell you.”
“Well it must ‘ave been a traumatic experience waking up in a coffin,” said Mrs Kolokotronis. “I don’t think I could have survived a hole in the ground if I wasn’t really dead.”
Spotting Tassia she called her over and suggested they retire to make some alterations to the wedding dress, pointedly noting “just as my Christos is getting thinner you are putting on weight Tassia and your bosom is growing most bigly.”
Chapter 58
Bald Yannis’ New Hair
Bald Yannis was having a ghastly time of it at the hair transplant clinic. Not having bothered to read any of the glossy brochures before making his appointment he hadn’t realised his recent back wax and his early morning facial shave had left him with limited options in the donor hair department. The hair transplant surgeon informed Bald Yannis his only options were to have either the hair from his legs or the hair from his chest grafted onto his bald head.
“If only I hadn’t paid good money for that torturous back wax in the beauty parlour yous would have had my hairy back to take grafts from,” Yannis said. As he had a surfeit of chest hair growing wildly he reluctantly told the surgeon to take the donor hair from there.
The result was nothing like the photos in the glossy brochure. The surgeon made lots of small holes in Bald Yannis’ by now bright red scalp and plugged them with chest hair in a curved line reaching from ear to ear. The front and back of his head remained bald on either side of the newly planted weed like strip of wispy hair.
Bald
Yannis was apoplectic with rage when he looked in the mirror and saw how ridiculously clown-like he looked. “Malaka what ‘ave yous done to me?” he screamed. “I paid yous good money for this, yous incompetent hair butcher.”
Worried he was about to be attacked the surgeon reassured Bald Yannis he would soon get used to his new look and if he still hated it tomorrow he would sell him a toupee.
“Now one thing I should have mentioned before I started,” the surgeon explained “is the area of your chest I took the donor hair from will remain bald as that patch of hair will completely refuse to grow back.”
Bald Yannis looked at his still very hairy chest which now featured a prominent large bald circular spot in the centre between his nipples. “How can I go without a shirt in summer with that ridiculous bald spot showing and how will I explain it away if I manage to lure any unsuspecting woman to my bed?” Yannis questioned.
“Well you could always have your chest waxed at the beauty parlour to make the rest of it match the bald spot,” the surgeon suggested. Yannis blanched at the very thought of waxing any more of his body and lamented he was hairy in places he didn’t want hair and bald in places he wanted it.
“I thought this hair transplant would give me a full ‘ead of hair,” he complained. “Instead I have ended up with a wiry wispy landing strip between my ears. I’d better take that toupee now in case anyone is rude enough to comment on this awful hair transplant and I suppose it will cover the enormous scar you have left me with. Don’t bother with the toupee glue, I have plenty of superglue in the hardware shop at cost price without wasting any more money.”
Chapter 59
A Quiet Evening in the Wake of the Wake
After all the excitement of the funeral and the wake it was unusually quiet in ‘Mono Ellinka Trofima’ that evening. There were only a few straggles of fishermen sitting around eating tripe soup and they were happy to have the company of Quentin and Deirdre to relieve the monotony.
“I ‘ear Fat Christos is going to scrap his fishing boat and take government bribes to stop fishing. It madness, ‘is boat is in better condition than mine,” Prosperous Pedros said.
“Only ‘cos you never spend any of your money, yous skinflint,” Takis reminded him. “We must ‘elp Fat Christos strip all things of value from the boat before the government send tax inspectors to make it a bigly bonfire.”
“A curse on Fat Christos the malaka, inviting the tax inspectors to the village,” Vangelis the chemist complained, knowing he would need to rush to his pharmacy shop to make sure he had a receipt roll on show in the cash register.
“A curse on that malaka indeed,” agreed Takis, making a mental note to start handing out paper receipts instead of writing up bills on the paper tablecloths.
“Ave yous bought that falling down ‘ouse yet K-Went-In?” Tall Thomas asked. “Not yet,” replied Quentin “we were at the funeral today.”
The thought of that old fool Vasilis buried alive in that coffin was too awful for everyone to contemplate and they hurriedly turned to a more cheerful topic.
“Did you ‘ear Toothless Tasos is walking out with Tassia?” Quentin decided to stir things up with the bit of juicy gossip he had been sitting on since the night before, as he was very nearly one of the locals now.
“What yous say?” screeched Gorgeous Yiorgos “that two-timing hussy has a date with me tomorrow.”
At that exact moment Thea was sat at home surrounded by piles of tat she had amassed from the home shopping channel. Contemplating a debt laden future she picked up a hammer and violently destroyed the television set to remove the temptation of any more ill-advised impulse purchases from the addictive home shopping channel. With the television destroyed she then began to compile a list of pros and cons of each of her suitors.
Chapter 60
A Confession
“Sit down my love, we must ‘ave the serious talk,” Vasilis said to the bandage wrapped and drooling mail order Masha when they returned home after the funeral.
“You want divorce me as I look ‘orrible with botched lip job,” Masha shouted.
“No, of course not,” Vasilis told her “but yous know how yous keep saying you would like children....”
“Ah the Viagra is working at last and yous want go bed to make baby,” Masha interrupted before Vasilis could finish his sentence.
“No, well maybe, but not yet. I ‘ave a confession, yous possibly ‘ave a fifty year-old step-daughter and it is Stavroula,” Vasilis revealed.
“What, ‘ow can that be, I am too young to be a mother to that old shrew Stavroula? Vasili yous make me laughing stock, making me mother to unpleasant nasty woman,” mail order Masha exploded, continuing “it impossible I be related to a woman with no clothes taste and bad ‘air, Vasili what you thinking, must be mistake yes?”
Vasilis explained to Masha the first he had learned Stavroula may be his daughter was in a blackmail letter from the Pappas who had heard this from Stavroula’s mothers’ death bed confession.
“Po po, you better not be thinking of leaving ‘alf of everything to her,” Masha said, before the enormity of Vasilis’ news began to sink in.
“Whoever ‘eard of a blackmailing Pappas before?” Masha said. “It not right, it not decent, it not churchly. People should be able to take their deathbed confessions to the grave without interfering Pappas’s causing havoc. Are no murky secrets safe? No way you give that malaka Pappas one cent of my, I mean our, money.”
“And if it is true Stavroula he is my daughter?” Vasilis asked.
“We say nothing till you ‘ave, ‘ow you say, the DNA proof,” Masha advised. “If is true he is your daughter then I play step Mama and Stavroula will be big sister to baby we go make.”
As the pair pondered how they could secretly obtain a sample of Stavroula’s DNA without her knowing Masha came up with an excellent idea. She told Vasilis as soon as her bandages were removed she would invite Stavroula to join her for an afternoon of pampering at the village beauty parlour and then remove the hairs from the hairbrush Evaneglia used on her client.
With the matter settled to their mutual satisfaction Masha slipped Vasilis another tab of Viagra, realising the best way to secure her own inheritance was to start reproducing as quickly as possible.
Chapter 61
Presumed Dead
Whilst Vasilis and Masha were contemplating how to get their hands on a sample of Stavroula’s DNA the policemen from Pouthena, the up north village of ‘nowhere’, had returned to Astakos and were at that moment asking Stavroula to provide a DNA sample “to rule you out of our enquiries,” they explained.
Kostas’ car, which Stavroula had driven to the top of an overgrown ravine and then pushed over the edge on the night she poisoned her second husband with weed killer laced homemade chicken soup, had at last been found. A search party was combing the area surrounding the car in the hopes of retrieving his body, but the ravine was an area well known to be frequented by brown bears, wild boars and the odd wolf, any of which could have long gnawed away any evidence.
Slick Socrates was on hand to advise Stavroula against handing over any of her DNA, telling the policemen it was bound to be all over the car as Kostas had driven her in it many times.
“You think Kostas he dead?” Stavroula asked the policemen who told her they thought it was possible as his car had been found in the middle of nowhere, not even close to the ‘nowhere’ village of Pouthena, and no one had seen sight of Kostas for ages.
“Maybe he crash off the road and there is no foul play,” the policemen told her. “Katerina, the sister of Kostas, is making lots of noise since she returned from the island to discover her brother missing, and we have to put on a show of investigating as she is too loud.”
As the policemen were being quite pleasant and there had been no mention of handcuffs or interrogations, Stavroula decided to once again butter them up with platefuls of free food. As long as their search was concentrated on the ravine there was no reason t
o suppose they would ever think to dig up the new concrete floor she had lain in the chicken coop. The policemen did not seem terribly bright and were way too easily distracted by tempting plates of home cooked food.
She served the two policemen heaped plates of pastitsio which they ate with relish. She was eager to get rid of them as she thought if Kostas was presumed dead she would not need a divorce from him and would be free to marry Slick Socrates. The lawyer put a spanner in her thoughts by reminding her even if Kostas was presumed dead, thus leaving her a free woman, there was still the matter of her marriage to Toothless Tasos which had never been legally dissolved since Tasos faked his own death at sea.
Stavroula had been the innocent party in Toothless Tasos’ deception, but Slick Socrates advised her if she pursued legal channels to rectify the situation then her marriage to Kostas, even if he was now presumed dead, would be revealed as bigamous. Stavroula really could not afford to have anyone looking too closely into her marriage with Kostas.
Stavroula was stuck with one useless husband who was supposed to be dead but wasn’t, and one dead husband who was only presumed to be dead but was actually buried under the chicken coop. It was all enough to make Stavroula’s head explode and she began to seriously consider getting rid of Toothless Tasos. After all she thought, murder was quite easy once you got the hang of it and getting rid of Toothless Tasos would free her once and for all to marry Socrates.
As she banged her pots and pans in the kitchen whilst contemplating the next day’s menu her thoughts turned to where she might get her hands on some cyanide and where might be a good place to hide a body. Throwing some oregano in a pan of lamb Stavroula began singing happily to herself.
Goat In The Meze: A farcical look at Greek life (The Greek Meze Series Book 1) Page 12