Greek Capers

by Katerina Nikolas

  GREEK CAPERS

  Book 5 in The Greek Meze Series

  KATERINA NIKOLAS

  GREEK CAPERS

  Copyright © 2018 Katerina Nikolas

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Many Thanks to Brenda and George for Edits.

  Cover Design by Yuse Art Works

  Interior Formatting by The Book Khaleesi

  CONTENTS

  Other Books in the Greek Meze Series

  Chapter 1

  Quentin Takes up Greek Dancing

  Chapter 2

  Hanging Gloria

  Chapter 3

  Stapling the Old Fool

  Chapter 4

  Evangelia’s Peculiar Hobby

  Chapter 5

  Old Crone Power

  Chapter 6

  Bathing in Oil

  Chapter 7

  De-Icing Horses and Frozen Eyelashes

  Chapter 8

  Sweet Sofia Arrives

  Chapter 9

  Decaf Frappuccino, Extra Sweet

  Chapter 10

  Fotini Adds a Little Something Extra to Lunch

  Chapter 1l

  A Smitten Sofia and a Repulsed Iraklis

  Chapter 12

  A Reputation as a Cheating Scoundrel

  Chapter 13

  Garra Rufa Fish and Tiddlers

  Chapter 14

  First Catch

  Chapter 15

  A Taxi to the Finest Restaurant in Town

  Chapter 16

  Toothless Tasos Faces up to his Fake Death

  Chapter 17

  Tiddlers for Fish Meze

  Chapter 18

  A Floral Vision of Loveliness

  Chapter 19

  Something of the Dark about Him

  Chapter 20

  A Stroll through the Olive Groves

  Chapter 21

  Bald Yannis the Village Protector

  Chapter 22

  Well Meaning Busybodies

  Chapter 23

  A Nasty Outbreak of Food Poisoning

  Chapter 24

  A Spot of Blackmail

  Chapter 25

  First Love and Chaperones

  Chapter 26

  Off to Mykonos

  Chapter 27

  Floating Fish

  Chapter 28

  Onos, My Darling

  Chapter 29

  The Cat Ate the Evidence

  Chapter 30

  On the Loose

  Chapter 31

  Great Bowls of Borscht

  Chapter 32

  A Long Way from Athens

  Chapter 33

  The Pappas’ Pleasant Personality Persists

  Chapter 34

  Granny’s Fabulous Fungal Fighter

  Chapter 35

  Turning the Place into Blackpool

  Chapter 36

  Just for Show

  Chapter 37

  Playing Hard to Get

  Chapter 38

  Handsome as a Movie Star

  Chapter 39

  A Case of Mistaken Identity

  Chapter 40

  A Borscht Stained Memory

  Chapter 41

  Wasting Police Time

  Chapter 42

  The Pappas Erupts

  Chapter 43

  Shower Me with Gold

  Other Books in the Greek Meze Series

  Book 1: Goat in the Meze

  Book 2: Rampaging Roosters

  Book 3: Olive Virgins

  Book 4: Goatly Goings On

  Chapter 1

  Quentin Takes up Greek Dancing

  Deirdre gaped at Quentin in dumb-struck horror, shocked by his uncharacteristically bizarre request. Looking quite ludicrous, Quentin was standing in the shallows with his trouser legs rolled up, his bare feet kicking frantically at the sea water pooled in the shore-side rocks. The expletive he’d just screamed still reverberated heavily in the air.

  “Don’t be so ridiculous Quentin. It’s a bit late in the day to expect me to develop an interest in kinky water sports,” Deirdre protested vehemently, having regained the use of her vocal faculties.

  “Really Deirdre, I simply need you to pee on my foot to stop the excruciating pain from this horrendous sea urchin. You have been reading too many of those dreadful Sunday magazines if you think my perfectly reasonable request is kinky,” Quentin cried, desperately trying to shake his foot free from the embedded black ball of spikes.

  “Let me see if I can loosen it for you,” Deirdre offered, swinging her handbag wildly until it collided with the creature torturing her husband. The spiky ball was dislodged back into its natural habitat with a plop and Quentin once again screamed “malaka,” hopping up and down to examine the black spike protruding prominently from the sole of one foot. His reddened face was scrunched up in agony beneath his souvenir fisherman’s hat as he again implored his wife to put him out of his misery.

  “Quentin get a grip, the best solution would be medical attention, not some half-baked cure you picked up watching ‘Survivor,’” Deirdre admonished. “In forty years of marriage I have always locked the bathroom door behind me and I don’t intend to change my habits now.”

  “You weren’t such a prude when it came to flashing that disgusting old goat herder with your glow-in-the-dark thong,” Quentin spluttered, still hopping in agony.

  Their bickering was interrupted by Toothless Tasos calling out to them from his fishing boat. “That’s a funny spot to practice yous Greek dancing, K-Went-In,” Tasos laughed.

  “I’m not dancing, I have a life-threatening injury,” Quentin spat.

  “He impaled his foot on a sea urchin when he was paddling,” Deirdre explained.

  “Ouch, that’s painful, yous should have peed on ‘im Did-Rees,” Tasos called, reiterating the sound logic of the suggestion that had so mortified the prudish Deirdre.

  “Yous will be in no state to walk back to the village on that foot. Let me bring the boat near so yous can jump in, an’ I’ll drop yous back at the ‘arbour. Now did yous keep ‘old of the culprit, it’s a tasty treat with a squirt of fresh lemon an’ a drizzle of extra virgin?”

  Toothless Tasos was disappointed to learn the Americans had not appreciated the sea urchin was considered a sought after Greek delicacy. Helping the pair onboard he hastily wiped a grubby cloth over the plastic chair he kept on the boat so Deirdre wouldn’t end up with a fish smeared bottom.

  “What was yous doing out by the rocks?” he asked.

  “We were just enjoying a stroll by the sea,” Quentin winced, still in pain from the venom pulsing into his body.

  “I forgets yous foreigns ‘ave such odd habits,” Tasos tutted, considering exercise to be an unnecessary indulgence.

  “We wanted some fresh air and peace after all the drama of the bomb scare at the hospital,” Deirdre confided, rummaging around in her enormous handbag for a pair of tweezers.

  “I ‘eard about that,” Tasos said with a knowing wink. By now it was all round the village gossip vine that Quentin was inadvertently responsible for causing pandemonium at the hospital by smuggling the ‘bomb’ squawking parrot into the building concealed beneath a lobste
r adorned shower curtain. Fortunately the parrot had been so distracted by the blow up sex doll in the hospital car park it had finally loosened its grip on Quentin’s scalp and flown off in pursuit of voluptuous vinyl prey. The souvenir fisherman’s hat concealed the scarred evidence of the parrot’s prior perch on Quentin’s scalp.

  “Yous dont’s want to be doin’ that Did-Rees,” Toothless Tasos advised, watching Deirdre about to tweeze the spike from Quentin’s foot. “Yous will make it worse if it breaks, best ‘ave K-Went-In stick ‘is foot in a bowl of vinegar, that’s the traditional Greek remedy. Thea ‘as some at ‘ome, she cooked octopus in vinegar last night an’ yous is welcome to stick yous foot in what she drains off.”

  The thought of sticking his foot in a bowl of vinegar drained from an octopus dinner would have normally repulsed Quentin, but the pain was so severe he agreed to Tasos telephoning his fiancée and asking her to meet them at the harbour with this revolting remedy.

  As the boat puttered along Deirdre almost decapitated toothless Tasos by roughly grabbing the binoculars hanging from his neck. “It’s almost impossible to see anything,” she said, worried they could end up adrift at sea. “Where did this thick fog suddenly come from?”

  “It’s not fog Did-Rees. It is hovering clouds of Sahara dust. We’ll be getting the red rain soon,” Tasos said.

  “It’s eerily muggy,” Quentin noted.

  “Bald Yannis will be lovin’ it, imagine ‘ow he’ll sell it as evidence of the coming apocalypse to them stupid eejits he’s scammed into coming ‘ere,” Tasos guffawed.

  Personally Toothless Tasos was pleased the fake end of the world scam was working so well as he’d managed to rent out his living room floor to a couple from Scotland. Thea was not too happy at the prospect of Doomsday lodgers taking up residence but appreciated her spendthrift ways meant they needed the cash. Thea insisted the spare room must be reserved for her goddaughter Sofia who was due to arrive any day from Athens.

  Quentin had flatly refused to participate in the end of the world scam following the bizarre experience of the besotted stalker squatting in their house. Deirdre considered crazy Koula had been judged too harshly and she’d been nagging Quentin to engage the deluded woman as a cleaner if she was ever released from the mental institution where she now languished.

  A glimmer of sun forced a weak path through the dusty red mist, shining a spotlight on a skeletal apparition perched on a bench overlooking the sea. The sunbeam faded as quickly as it appeared, causing Deirdre to shake her head in incredulous disbelief. “I could have sworn that was Fotis’ mother, Kyria Moustakos.”

  “You must be seeing things Deirdre, there’s no way the feeble old dear could be out alone in this weather. She’s probably tucked up back in her hospital bed,” Quentin argued.

  Their squabbling was interrupted by a massive jolt knocking the pair off balance as Toothless Tasos brought the boat to a shuddering halt by steering it into Fat Christos’ anchored fishing boat, bewailing he couldn’t see a thing through the red pea-souper.

  Deirdre let out a piercing scream, jabbering incoherently and pointing a trembling finger at the bloated and naked corpse of a woman floating in the harbour water, revealed by another passing sunbeam filtering through the fog. The ray of sunlight vanished, leaving Quentin and Tasos stumped by Deirdre’s hysterics.

  “There was a dead body floating, I swear,” Deirdre stuttered. “There must be a gang of marauding mad attackers on the loose in Astakos. Not one of us is safe.”

  Chapter 2

  Hanging Gloria

  Lurking in the mist by the side of the harbour Bald Yannis chuckled uproariously at the sight of the hysterical Deirdre being carried from the boat by a limping Quentin. Pulling on a rope he reeled in the blow up sex doll he had suspended over the side of Fat Christos’s fishing boat, having fully inflated Gloria to her former glory with his bicycle pump. Carrying the voluptuous vinyl doll into the hardware shop, intent on finding a secret hiding place to conceal it before pulling it out for his next prank, he was furious to discover the old crone Nitsa hanging round by the cash register examining his motley collection of chains and hooks as an excuse to get up close and personal with him.

  “There’s no need to resort to carrying on with a plastic woman when I’m hot blooded an’ willin’,” Nitsa cackled, goosing Bald Yannis’ bottom and giving him a saucy wink.

  “Get yous ‘ands off me,” Bald Yannis shouted, beating Nitsa off with the blow up doll. Realising the old hag’s gossiping ways could ruin his floating corpse prank, he grabbed a hideous old lady dress and started dressing Gloria, saying, “I see yous ‘ave met the new display mannequin I ‘ave salvaged to display my stock of beautiful dresses.”

  “Ooh, if yous put some pop socks on ‘er legs and a wig on ‘er ‘ead she’ll look just like one of them Parisian catwalk models,” Nitsa gushed.

  “Dont’s get too close with them metal chains, we dont’s want ‘er explodin’,” Bald Yannis ordered. “I think I’ll suspend ‘er from the ceiling,” he mumbled, climbing his ladder and scratching his shiny pate, perplexed how best to hang the doll from the hook without bursting her. Wrapping the rope around Gloria’s neck he secured it to the hook, leaving the blow up sex doll dangling ominously like a condemned prisoner on the gallows.

  “Not only does she show off my dresses well, she’ll also be a wonderful deterrent to shop lifters.”

  “Best stick some bloomers on ‘er, I can see right up ‘er dress,” Nitsa observed.

  “Are yous still ‘ere?” Bald Yannis asked, dismissively brushing Nitsa aside as a couple of Doomsday trippers entered in search of his by now infamous apocalypse kits.

  “Hamish, take a wee look at that howlin’ dress,” the woman said to her kilt wearing husband, pointing at the hideous old lady dress gracing the blow up sex doll suspended from the ceiling.

  “Och aye Fenella, you’ll have to have one, you’ll look right bonnie,” Hamish replied. Turning to Bald Yannis, Hamish dropped all trace of Scottish dialect, saying, “We’ll take two of your finest apocalypse kits and a dress please.”

  Examining the contents of the kits Hamish gushed over the self-heating Christmas tinners, exclaiming “oh what a treat, I didn’t really expect we’d ever eat a traditional Christmas dinner again once the world ends. Look at these Fenella; they contain Brussels sprouts, mince pies and cranberry sauce.”

  Holding the bottle of ouzo aloft he asked Bald Yannis, “I say old chap, you couldn’t swap this Greek stuff for a bottle of the finest Scotch whisky?”

  “Does I look like a distillery?” Bald Yannis questioned, impatiently grabbing their cash and pushing them out of the shop.

  Soula arrived, coyly planting a kiss on her husband’s cheek.

  “I just spoke to the doctor and he reassured me Koula is getting the very best care in her padded cell. The Pappas has agreed not to press charges for attempted murder. I swear he appears to be a changed man with Koula’s transfused blood running through ‘is veins.”

  “Well it remains to be seen if the Pappas develops unhealthy obsessions with Slick Socrates and Prosperous Pedros. He could end up besotted with ‘em,” Yannis warned. “Dont’s go forgetting Koula ‘as committed other crimes Soula. She attacked Masha, broke into houses and nearly incinerated a goat.”

  Bald Yannis was quite happy to overlook his crazy sister-in-law’s attack on the Pappas but the goat incident left a nasty taste in his mouth, even though his Herculean rescue of the goat from Thea’s burning harbour-side house had turned him into the village hero. Remembering Takis had lifted the taverna ban he decided to cheer Soula up by offering to take her there that evening.

  “Ooh Yanni, I ‘ave never been to a taverna before, it’s so exciting. Should I get dressed up in one of Masha’s old cast-off dresses?”

  “There’s no need to go over the top woman, what yous wear to clean out the goat pen will be fine,” Bald Yannis advised, not wanting his plain, lame wife to get ideas above her station.

&nbs
p; Young Iraklis tentatively entered the hardware shop, summoning the courage to ask Bald Yannis if he could change a twenty Euro note for the supermarket.

  “Does I look like a bank?” Yannis sneered derisively.

  “Ooh Yanni, dont’s be so rude,” Soula reprimanded her husband while sorting change for the supermarket. She erroneously assumed Iraklis’ blushing face was caused by Bald Yannis’ dismissive tone when in fact the innocent Iraklis had just discovered the hardware shop’s new mannequin flashing him without any knickers. Following his gaze Bald Yannis snapped “I’ll ‘ave no perving goin’ on in my shop.”

  “Where on earth did you get that odd looking mannequin?” Soula asked.

  “I found it in the church. I think Koula must ‘ave carried it there to embarrass the Pappas, so as ‘er next of kin it rightfully belongs to us,” Bald Yannis replied, secretly thinking the blow up sex doll was probably the Pappas’ bedfellow.

  Soula shook her head in amazement at the crazy antics of her sister. “Perhaps she was using it as a dress maker’s dummy to tailor her homemade wedding dress on,” she suggested.

  “Is there any news of the Pappas?” Iraklis asked, feeling duty bound to visit his former mentor in hospital when his supermarket shift ended.

  “He appears to ‘ave ‘ad a personality transplant caused by ‘is blood transfusion,” Soula told him. “He’s bein’ nice to people.”

  “God works in mysterious ways,” Iraklis declared, fervently hoping at the very least the Pappas’ personality transplant would last until he had finished his duty visit.

  Conversation was interrupted by moronic Mitsos barging into the hardware shop, shouting “’Ere Yanni, grab yous chainsaw. Adonis needs our muscle at the ‘otel, those Doomsday trippers are practically causing a riot.”

  The two men rushed off to the hotel, with Nitsa following in close pursuit. Adonis was struggling to make himself heard above the heated complaints of the end of the worlders all shouting at once. Bald Yannis quickly restored order by revving the chainsaw and demanding “Adoni, what is the problem?”

  Adonis attempted to reply but his lone voice was drowned out by the crowd of Doomsday trippers all shouting that the hotel keeper had tripled his usual prices and was demanding cash up front. Bald Yannis silenced the crowd by once again revving his chainsaw and demanding they let Adonis speak.