She had an awful suspicion the contents of her liquidised dinners may be in some way responsible for her son’s sickness. She had patently ignored the doctor’s recommendations on the strict limits of Fat Christos’ post stomach stapling surgery diet and had been shoving all manner of forbidden fatty and sweet treats into the blender.
Fat Christos was tucked up in a hospital bed with a drip in his arm when his mother arrived. “I must speak to the doctor,” she exclaimed, giving the white coated young physician a detailed list of the all the forbidden food items she had furtively been feeding her son.
“You know that disgusting fatty and sweet diet could kill your son?” the doctor scolded her. “And if he gets fat again the fat will kill him. This is a serious matter Kyria Kolokotronis and you should be ashamed of yourself.”
Mrs Kolokotonis sat by her son’s hospital bed sobbing and begging his forgiveness. When the doctor assured him he would survive he forgave his mother, but told her from now on Tassia would be solely responsible for liquidising his meals.
“She’s as batty as a hatter, nutty as a fruitcake, mad as a box of frogs, first she tries to kill me then yous use her taxi to bring me to the ‘ospital, what’s yous thinking Masha?” that old fool Vasilis shouted, shuffling into the hospital room and helped into the bed next to Fat Christos.
“What happened to you Vasili?” Mrs Kolokotronis enquired, surprised to see a fellow Astakostan in the adjoining bed.
“That old crone Nitsa what is staying with that old hag Fotini knocked me off the donkey deliberately with ‘er taxi an’ broke my arm. Then Masha stops a taxi to bring me ‘ospital and that ‘orrid old crone is driving it and wouldn’t let us out till she emptied my wallet. Masha ring the police and report her for deliberately driving into the donkey.”
“Calm down Vasili, it may have been an accident,” mail order Masha advised her husband, adding “she’s too old to be driving that bigly car though.”
“I tell you she done it deliberate Masha, ring the police and get her arrested,” Vasilis demanded, asserting his husbandly authority. “Ring Stavroula too,” he whispered, “she will want to be by the sick bed of her newly discovered father.”
Masha stepped outside to telephone Pancratius the village policeman and her new step-daughter Stavroula. She embraced her good friend Tassia warmly as her friend arrived at the hospital to rush to the bedside of Fat Christos.
Returning to her husband Masha announced she hated hospitals and would be off as she had a pressing appointment at the beauty parlour and he only had a broken arm. She had seen much worse injuries back in Russia when the wolves were on the prowl. Tassia and Mrs Kolokotronis were perfectly capable of fetching and carrying for Vasilis at the same time as they fussed over Fat Christos.
Promising she would look after the donkey Masha fled the hospital as quickly as her wobbling stilettos would carry her. Her old fool of a husband was becoming obsessive in his ludicrous claims about that batty old woman she thought.
Chapter 104
Liberated Women
“I’m not responsible for old cousin Nitsa,” Prosperous Pedros insisted when Pancratius the village policeman confronted him in the taverna ‘Mono Ellinka Trofima’ that evening.
“It’s not right she’s driving round in an unlicensed old taxi picking up paying customers,” the policeman asserted. “She’s causing havoc on the road, and extorting exorbitant fares.”
“It’s not my business what my old cousin does,” Prosperous Pedros insisted again, beginning to lose his temper at the assumption he could control the batty old crone.
“Your mother was with her,” pressed Pancratius the village policeman.
“So, since when is it illegal to sit in the passenger seat?” Prosperous Pedros shouted, getting decidedly hot under the collar of his pullover. “Yous is disturbing my dinner, leave me alone.” he said, calling “Taki, come throw ‘im out.”
The other customers leapt to the defence of Prosperous Pedros, agreeing it was not his responsibility what his old cousin got up to. “Don’t look at me neither,” Tall Thomas told the policeman “I ‘ave no control over my nutty old aunty. This is that ‘ere women’s liberation imported from foreign countries, it’s not politically correct if we tell our women what to do these days.”
“She is probably just trying to earn some extra money to supplement her meagre pension,” Quentin suggested, receiving a kick under the table from Deirdre who had not enjoyed the experience of being held captive in Nitsa’s taxi.
Yiota emerged from the kitchen carrying a Tupperware box full of salad and souvlaki. She told the policemen if he was heading to the hospital to question Vasili about his accident he could deliver the food at the same time.
“No need, I cook ‘im ‘is favourite borscht,” Masha piped up, piling a Tupperware box of her infamous red soup she had retrieved from under the table, onto the policeman. “Tell him to share with Fat Christos,” she instructed. “Tassia say the doctor approve goodly borscht for ‘is strict diet.”
Pancratius the village policeman felt outnumbered and left the taverna clutching both boxes of food. Something had to be done to prevent Nitsa picking up unwilling paying passengers in her old Mercedes taxi. However he dreaded to think of the stink she would create if she was arrested and locked up in a prison cell. His reputation would suffer if he acquired a name for locking up helpless old ladies.
“Why yous not at ‘ospital with yous ‘usband, Masha?” Vangelis the chemist queried, thinking it was bad form she was dining out while her husband needed her.
“I look after ‘is donkey and cook ‘is borscht,” Masha said, adding “I is supposed liberated woman like what Thomas said, yet yous expect me to chain myself to ‘usband’s ‘ospital bed, yous chauvinist.”
With that Masha stood up to leave, feeling duty bound to report on Vasilis’ progress to her new step-mother Stavroula and to take legal advice from Slick Socrates to determine if Vasilis would be due any monetary compensation for being knocked off the donkey.
Chapter 105
Fire!
The Pappas waited until Petula was tucked up asleep in bed with his new pet goat before venturing outdoors into the moonless night. He hoped his black clerical robe would blend well into the darkness and he used a black balaclava to conceal his face. He admitted to himself his cunning plan to break into the house of Fotini and steal her moneyed wallpaper was making him a tad nervous as it involved stepping out of his usual comfort zone. His previous money making scams had not involved anything quite so physically challenging or outright criminal.
All the lights were off inside Fotini’s house, the Pappas noticed, as he approached. He took this as a good sign, having no way of knowing the electric company had cut off her supply. Noticing the downstairs shutters had been left unlatched the Pappas muttered to himself “Po po, Fotini deserve to lose her wallpaper money if she is so stupid to leave the window open with riches inside.”
Hoisting himself in through the window left the Pappas sweating with the effort. He could hear the distant drone of old ladies snoring upstairs and congratulated himself on his perfect timing for his first foray into house breaking and burglary. He landed silently on his feet in the living room. Whipping out his torch and an olive sack for his money stash he prepared to start prising the bank notes from the wall.
When the torchlight revealed the mass of useless and worthless drachma notes the Pappas emitted a furiously loud “malaka.” In utter frustration he hurled the torch from his hand, only to have it land in the still glowing embers of Fotini’s living room fire where the batteries exploded with an almighty bang.
“What’s that?” Fotini and Nitsa screamed in unison. Jumping out of their beds they wrapped themselves in their waterproof bedspreads and made remarkably nimble progress down the stairs, where they were just in time to spot an unidentifiable shadowy figure climbing out of the living room window.
“Follow ‘im quick,” Fotini screeched as Nitsa simultaneously screamed �
��Fire, fire.” The torch exploding in the fire embers had caused the fire to roar and spread.
It was obviously a more pressing matter to put out the flames lapping at the moneyed wallpaper than pursue the shadowy figure through the window. Fotini ran into the kitchen to grab a bucket of water to throw over the fire, which had been made much worse by Nitsa attempting to douse the flames with her waterproof plastic bedspread. Their lives were in terrible danger as the house could burn down around them.
Nitsa dashed out through the kitchen door, returning instantly with the hose pipe. Demonstrating incredible bravery she tackled the out of control flames, while instructing Fotini to telephone Prosperous Pedros and the police.
Prosperous Pedros turned up quickly and was genuinely alarmed at his first assumption his mother and her cousin had very nearly managed to burn the house down. He was closely followed by Pancratius the village policeman who imagined he was being dragged from his sick bed over nothing more than the hysterics of two old women who had caused him nothing but trouble all day.
“We didn’t start the fire, the arsonist was the thief what come through the window to rape and murder us in our beds,” Fotini insisted, stridently backed up by Nitsa.
Pancratius the village policeman soon confirmed there were indeed muddy footprints all over the windowsill and living room floor, and a burnt and mangled torch on the edge of the fireplace. Fotini quickly confirmed she had never once in her life owned a new-fangled torch as she always used candles, and she would never think of wearing muddy boots in the house.
“We tell yous it was an intruder what wanted ‘is wicked way with us,” Nitsa cried, instructing Pedros to go and get them two brandies for the shock.
“This is a very serious matter,” the policeman said earnestly, pondering the possibility the elusive underwear thief could have struck again. The underwear thief’s modus operandi had only been to steal from washing lines up to now, but perhaps his perverted tendencies had got the better of him and now he was breaking and entering with rape in mind. Mind you it would need to be one brave pervert to consider attacking these two cantankerous and formidable old ladies, he thought to himself.
He did not blame Fotini for leaving the shutters unlatched as apart from the washing line thefts there was no other criminal activity in the village and Fotini had nothing of value worth stealing to attract thieves. It did not occur to any of the four of them the worthless bank notes had provided the thief’s motivation for his illegal entry, which left them each convinced a deranged and very unfussy sex pervert was on the loose.
Chapter 106
Ruled Out of the Enquiry
Word of the pervert intruder who was obviously intent on the rape and murder of two innocent old ladies was the talk of the village by the next morning. The villagers vented their outrage vociferously, most alarmed at such skulduggery in their midst. Even though they despised Fotini they would not wish such a frightful fate on her.
Deirdre voiced her fears that they had recently purchased the falling down house next door to the one where this grisly crime had occurred, but the villagers were quick to emphatically reassure her criminality was not the norm and the area was safe. Petula recommended Quentin and Deirdre acquire a guard dog goat if they were worried as she had never slept so soundly since Nero moved in.
The Pappas was dumbfounded when he heard from his congregation his bungled bout of house breaking and burglary had been misinterpreted as a perverted attempt to rape and murder those two cantankerous old women in their beds. His relief that the accidental fire he had started had distracted the ladies from pursuing him through the window was immense. It had given him the opportunity to escape undetected under the cover of darkness.
The only evidence of his misconduct was the singed hemline on his clerical dress, but fortunately the goat had chewed it up as soon as he returned home. Petula had not the least suspicion he had left the house the previous night and he had taken the precaution of hosing down his muddy boots rather than demanding she do it.
Moronic Mitsos felt nostalgic for the days when he would have been at the centre of the police enquiry and called a meeting of the village men to discuss the matter. He suggested putting additional men on washing line patrol duty as the general consensus was the elusive underwear thief must be last night’s prime pervert suspect.
Bald Yannis was for once lost for words. He knew full well that although he had enjoyed his bit of fun pilfering ‘frillies’ in his unsuspected role as the elusive underwear thief, he knew for certain he had nothing to do with the events of the previous night. While murder may be a harmless fantasy he occasionally indulged in, the very thought of raping those ghastly old women was enough to turn his stomach.
Tall Thomas wondered if the good nephew thing to do would be to offer to sleep over on Fotini’s living room floor to protect his aunty Nitsa, but decided against it. Prosperous Pedros knew the right thing to do would be to offer to move in to protect his mother but he was having none of it, worried once Fotini got him into her clutches he would be stuck there for the duration until she was dead, which could be years off yet. He preferred the idea of ensuring his mother’s house was secure and solicited the services of Bald Yannis to accompany him and Tall Thomas to the house to discuss installing security measures.
Fotini and Nitsa had been up half the night, unable to sleep after their terrifying experience. When Prosperous Pedros drove up with Tall Thomas and Bald Yannis they were immediately ordered upstairs to double check there were no pervert rapists lurking under the beds. Fotini stridently demanded Prosperous Pedros tell his father to come home at once to protect her. Pedros lied through his teeth, promising his mother he would try to contact his dead father in Athens.
The living room was still stuffy with smoke from the accidental fire as Bald Yannis took his measure of the window and considered how best to secure it. Fotini favoured the extreme method of electrifying the window so any intruder would be instantly electrocuted. This idea was dashed when Prosperous Pedros reminded his mother the electric supply had been cut off, rendering any such plan useless.
Bald Yannis offered to solder iron bars on the outside of the window, but demanded cash up front after his last encounter with Nitsa. “’Ow much you want?” Nitsa asked as she started to pull the useless bank notes off the wall to pay him with, hoping he would be too thick to notice they were worthless.
“Don’t touch that money,” Bald Yannis suddenly shouted, having had a rare stroke of genius. “It could be a clue the police should investigate. ‘Ow many malakas know yous have bank notes all over walls but don’t know they are worthless? Maybe the intruder was not a murdering pervert but a thief.”
Pancratius the village policeman was immediately summoned from his sick bed to investigate this possibility, admitting Bald Yannis’ supposition was indeed a stroke of genius. He ordered no one to touch the bank notes on the wall until he could call in the fingerprint experts.
Fotini told the policeman she did not encourage visitors and could not imagine who knew she had been in the process of wallpapering her living room with drachma notes. “Fat Christos and Tassia knew we ‘ad money, and that gormless American couple K-Went-In and Did-Rees admired it when they ‘ere to eat horta.”
“Well Fat Christos is in ‘ospital with stomach stapling poisoning and Tassia was with ‘im all night by ‘is bed,” Pancratius said, ruling them immediately out of his enquiries. “Maybe the gormless Americans are thieves,” he suggested, though even voicing this idea seemed quite ludicrous.
“Do any others know about the money?” he pressed, only to be told by Tall Thomas that Quentin had indeed been gossiping about the eccentric decorative touch of using banks notes as wallpaper all round the village.
“So everyone knew from the village gossip vine,” the policeman concluded, realising it cast suspicion on the total population of at least two villages.
“Well at least that puts the elusive underwear thief in the clear,” Bald Yannis muttered un
der his breath in relief.
Chapter 107
Hospital Visiting
News of the events back in Rapanaki had of course reached the hospital beds of Fat Christos and that old fool Vasilis as the village gossip vine had many tentacles. Vasilis had been kept awake half the night by Fat Christos’ incessant snoring and he was worried about Masha being alone in the house with a pervert on the prowl and only Onos the donkey for protection. He was disappointed his daughter Stavroula had not visited his bedside as yet and he hoped she would turn up soon.
Fat Christos had enjoyed an excellent night’s sleep with his mother and wife both on hand to fuss over and pamper him. The two women had slept most uncomfortably in chairs by his bed. Fat Christos was now insisting Tassia return to the supermarket as he was feeling much recovered and would soon be sent home. He credited his amazing recovery to the healing properties of mail order Masha’s deliciously infamous borscht. Even his doctor had approved its consumption and intended to get the recipe from mail order Masha so it could be added to the hospital kitchen’s menu.
Mail order Masha breezed into the hospital in a haze of expensive perfume she had applied liberally to disguise the hospital smell. She was unsuitably dressed in lurid pink sequin hot pants and matching stilettos, and carried another large Tupperware box of her infamous borscht. Fat Christos’ young doctor was quite smitten at the sight of this silicone Russian beauty flicking her long red hair extensions, and rushed to greet her, to the jealous annoyance of all the nurses.
Planting a kiss on her husband’s forehead she announced she could not stay long as Evangelia at the beauty parlour had some new eyelash curlers she wanted to experiment with. She supposed she would have enough time before her appointment to have lunch with the smitten young doctor who promised to give her a ‘name credit’ on the hospital menu for the borscht recipe.
Goat In The Meze: A farcical look at Greek life (The Greek Meze Series Book 1) Page 22