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  “A couple of French too,” I chimed in.

  “It’s not just all British,” she continued as if she hadn’t heard me.

  “I bet you know some people who work there, on the committee maybe?”

  “Yes. Why?”

  I looked down the path to check Kostas wasn’t on his way back yet.

  “Is this about the awards that went missing? Someone broke in a stole a few, didn’t they?” my aunt asked before I could continue.

  “Did they?”

  My aunt looked at me, one eyebrow raised.

  “Alright. It’s about the robbery. Have you heard anything about it on the grapevine?”

  She thought for a moment. “I wouldn’t be in so much of a rush to believe that someone broke in if I were you.”

  I leaned in. “Oh? Who was it?”

  “Oh, I don’t know that. I’m just saying, I heard a rumour it wasn’t someone from outside.” She turned and checked her reflection in the window behind us, patting her bun into place.

  “But who would want those old trophies? What was it about?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Can you ask around a bit?”

  “Really, Jennifer…” she began only to stop. Kostas was back, waving postcards at us.

  “I got one for you,” he said, handing me a postcard. “Of the icons, because you admired them so much.”

  “Thanks, but really, you shouldn’t have,” I said, sincerely.

  Kostas started unfolding his map when we got back to the car. “Well, this has been a nice day,” I said, fearing he was looking up another monastery, “but I’m bushed. Do you mind if we go home now? Another monk might just push me over the edge.” (Or vice versa).

  “Yes, that’s probably a good idea,” my aunt agreed. “It has been fun though, we must do it again sometime.”

  Addi was hounding my desk when I got to work the next day. “So, what did she say?”

  “Good morning to you too. Has something happened? You’re not normally here at this time.”

  “What did she say?”

  I had to think what he was talking about for a moment. “Oh, the robbery. She said she didn’t think it was someone outside the CrossGlobal organisation.”

  “It’s someone at CrossGlobal?”

  I noticed my in-tray looked depressingly full again. “That’s what she thought.”

  “She thinks or she knows?”

  “I’m not sure my aunt understands the difference between those two concepts.”

  “But she doesn’t know who?”

  “Nope,” I told him as I looked through the pile of work that had appeared overnight.

  “Hmm. I suppose it’s a start. I guess I’ll go out there again and see if I can make anyone break out in a sweat. No, it’s okay, you don’t need to come,” he told me as I reached for my bag.

  Cheers. “I’ll just stay here and type up these reports, shall I?” I grumbled to his disappearing back.

  He left just as Vara was breezing into the office. Her smiling face normally cheers me up but today it was a little annoying. I was getting a bit bored with the monotony of some of the work. No matter how many sets of notes I typed up, more just kept appearing in my in-tray.

  “You’re getting a tan, you know,” Vara commented. “It suits you.”

  I perked up slightly. A tan?

  “Shame the weather’s turned now, though,” she continued, deflating me again. “What’s the matter, you look a bit down?”

  Do I really? Had she sensed I was less than enamoured at the idea of spending the day typing, or spending the day doing anything really? “Just a bit fed up today, that’s all,” I told her in my best English stiff upper lip style, ever the masters of understatement.

  “I’ve got some news that will cheer you up.”

  Someone’s throwing a party? We’ve just won the lottery? Dallas is coming back on the telly? (Oh, wait…)

  “The old lady that died, it wasn’t her sister after all. The investigation’s not over. The killer’s still out there.”

  Excuse me if I fail to see how this cheers me up? “Right?” I queried.

  “You never know, Addi may get the case after all. Perhaps you could persuade him to take you along?”

  I can remember when the highlight of my day was being wined and dined by a successful businessman, having attention lavished upon me, and enjoying wild nights with him at the Hilton. Not finding out I may get to examine how an old lady was strangled.

  Hello new life. (In all fairness, the old one hadn’t worked out that well either.)

  “Isn’t there a special investigation team for homicides?” I asked.

  Vara’s face clouded over a little. “No, I don’t think so. We don’t get that many in Kythios.”

  Remind me never to get bumped off round here. “Well, working on that case would certainly be something to look forward to,” I humoured her.

  “I wish it were me.”

  The phone interrupted her disturbing thoughts. And mine.

  “Hello?” I answered.

  “Jennifer? It’s me.”

  Aunt June. “Anything wrong?” I asked.

  “No, all I will say is ‘Beth Johnson’,” she whispered in a mysterious way.

  “What?”

  “Beth Johnson,” she whispered slightly louder.

  “Who or what is ‘Beth Johnson’?”

  “Say no more,” she whispered and hung up.

  I looked at the phone for a moment before replacing it in its cradle. Had they started putting something in the water? What other explanation could there be for the sudden madness in people today?

  In the afternoon, I had to track Addi down to decipher some handwriting.

  “It isn’t English,” I told him, showing him the particularly illegible bit. “Did you train to be a doctor or something?”

  “In case you haven’t noticed, English isn’t my first language,” he told me a little huffily.

  “It’s not your second language either. I can’t tell if it’s writing or just a doodle.”

  He snatched the page from my grasp. “It’s, er, it says, er …” He peered more closely at the page. “Clearly it reads…” I watched him turn the paper around, have no luck, and turn it back again. “I can’t be expected to read it out of context. Where’s the rest of it?”

  I gave him the sheet that had come before.

  He spent a few minutes comparing the two.

  “Shall I come back?” I asked. Leaning against the wall was getting boring.

  “No, it says something like ‘money banana bathtub’.”

  “You want me to type that?”

  “Yes. No.” Addi looked at me. “I don’t know.”

  “I would suggest no, because it doesn’t make sense.” I took in the faint worry lines that had appeared around his mouth, the tie askew about his neck, his hair a right old mess, and decided action was needed. “Come on, let’s go get a drink.”

  We walked down to the kiosk that laughingly passed for a canteen around here and I made two cups of coffee.

  “What’s going on? Investigation still not going well?”

  He flopped down into one of the plastic seats provided. “How could you tell?”

  “Just a wild guess. What’s happened?”

  “Nothing, that’s the problem. I still don’t have a suspect for the CrossGlobal robbery and the chief’s getting really mad. I’ve got another theft in Jasmine Gardens and a disturbance in town to investigate. If I don’t start getting some answers soon, I’ll be investigating missing dogs for the rest of my life.”

  “There are worse things to spend your time on.”

  “Missing dogs are not going to get me a promotion. My mother keeps asking me when I will be working on the important cases.”

  I joined him on the crappy plastic seats. “Hey, that dog case turned out well. And the owners were grateful I’m sure, it was important to them.”

  “That’s not how my mother sees it.”
r />   I had a sudden vision of Addi’s mother - a cross between a dragon and Attila the Hun, dressed all in black. Not quite the same as my mother, who’s more of a cross between an afghan hound and a terrier, but just as scary and judgemental no doubt.

  “You live at home with your mother?”

  “Yes, my brother moved out when he got married a few years ago. It’s just me and Mamma now.”

  “How old are you?”

  “Twenty seven. Twenty eight in April.”

  I tried not to judge, I, after all, was living with my great aunt. “Don’t take this the wrong way,” I started cautiously, “but have you ever thought of moving out of home? Moving away?”

  “Moving out?” he repeated as if he’d never heard the words before.

  I was pushing our friendship here but it was hard to stand by and watch a grown person being cowed by their mother (when I do it, it’s different). “It might be good for you, give you a chance to live your own life. Don’t you think?”

  He did appear to think about this for a second. What this thought was I will never know though, it was interrupted by a uniformed policeman.

  “Ad, chief wants you upstairs.”

  He put his cup down and followed the officer, appearing to slump in on himself as he walked away. As I watched him, I was struck by the thought that prisoners on death row probably walk the same way.

  8 Driving Me To Drink

  I told Aunt June about Addi’s troubles that evening when I got home from work. “Poor bloke looks really stressed out.”

  Aunt June didn’t say much, just carried on stirring a pan of stew. A sudden twinge of guilt struck me.

  “I should be doing that.” I nodded at the pan, “I’m meant to be helping here.”

  “Nonsense, dear. This takes two hours to cook anyway, we’d be eating at midnight if you were cooking it!”

  That may have sounded like a slight slur but it was just my aunt’s way. “I’ll cook tomorrow then.”

  “If you like, dear.”

  I started thinking about what I could cook to demonstrate to my aunt we were now in the 21st century. A Thai green curry would probably be too much for her taste buds and I couldn’t imagine being able to get sushi rice here. Perhaps something a little less adventurous was in order - sliced bread?

  “My tip didn’t work out?” Aunt June asked, still stirring.

  “What tip?”

  “The one I rang you with earlier. Honestly, I don’t know why I bother.”

  “That was a tip? What you whispered down the phone?”

  “Of course. Do you think I go around whispering people’s names down telephone lines?”

  I had wondered. “You’d better tell me again.”

  “Beth Johnson. Didn’t you even pass it on?”

  “I didn’t know what it was. What’s she meant to have done?”

  Aunt June lowered her voice even though we were the only ones in her villa. “I asked around, discreetly, about the thefts at the CrossGlobal club. That’s the name I got back. You must be careful though, I don’t want it to come back to me. Alright?”

  “Alright!” I got up and ran to where I’d dropped my bag earlier. “Thanks Aunt June, I’ll tell Addi now.” The poor little soul was probably crying into a glass of beer, this would cheer him up.

  I had a few numbers of people from the office programmed into a new mobile phone. Sergeant H had insisted every staff member provide a mobile phone number so we could be contacted at all times. It was a bit rich as the department wasn’t prepared to pay for our phones themselves. My cheap pay as you go phone lived, permanently switched off, at the bottom of my bag.

  Addi’s mobile phone number wasn’t in my list but I had his landline so I gave that a ring.

  “Yassas?” came the response in Greek.

  The voice was female and sounded middle aged. Was this Addi’s infamous mother?

  I asked to speak to Addi in my best Greek.

  “Who is this?” the woman replied in English. That answered the question of whether I speak Greek with an English accent.

  “Can you tell him it’s Jennifer? I’m a work colleague.”

  “Jennifer? You are not a police officer.” It wasn’t a question. This was definitely Addi’s mother, I was getting a sense of dragon from her imperious tone.

  “No, that’s right. Is Addi there?”

  “My son is busy with important things. You should leave him alone, I think.”

  That told me. Before I could say anymore, she put the phone down. Poor Addi. I could understand now why he looked depressed.

  “Was he pleased?” Aunt June asked when I got back to the kitchen.

  “Didn’t get through. His mother doesn’t want me talking to him.”

  “Did she say why?” Aunt June asked, getting two plates out of the cupboard.

  “No, just put the phone down. Is dinner ready?”

  “Yes, sit down.”

  She didn’t need to ask me twice.

  “Perhaps she thinks you’re going to run off with her son,” Aunt June added, putting a plate in front of me.

  “What?”

  “It’s a worry for some people, that their child could marry a foreigner, someone not of their religion. You’re a xenos here, you know.”

  “I have no intention of marrying anybody.”

  Aunt June began dishing up her stew. “Thought we might eat a bit earlier tonight. Now it’s not hot in the day, there doesn’t seem so much point in waiting.”

  “It’s quite hot in here,” I pointed out, taking off the thin cardigan I’d been wearing. The windows had steamed up and were completely opaque.

  “I put the heating on, it’s been such a cold day.”

  “Cold? This would be a summer’s day in Swindon!”

  “I’m used to summers here.” As if to demonstrate, Aunt June pulled the zip higher on her fleece. “Now the nights are closing in, you’ll need something warmer on your bed. I’ll try to find my spare hot water bottle too.”

  “I’ll be alright for a while yet, it’s still a lot warmer than home.”

  “You had a bad winter last year, didn’t you?”

  Did she mean me personally or Swindon in general? The answer was yes to both.

  “There was a lot of snow, wasn’t there?” she added.

  “Yes, it wasn’t very nice. Made it hard to get around.”

  “I miss the snow.”

  I looked up from my plate. This was the first time Aunt June had really mentioned Swindon or the past. “Yes?”

  “We used to go up Cooper’s Hill with the sled, me and your grandfather, when it snowed.” She had a faraway look on her face.

  “But you’ve never been back in all these years?”

  “Don’t hold with looking back. It doesn’t do any good. Moving forward is the only way.”

  Looking round the kitchen, it didn’t seem that Aunt June had moved forward much since the 1970s, but I dismissed it from my mind. I hadn’t thought before about why she’d come here, leaving everyone behind in England. I’d just assumed she’d been attracted by the good climate but perhaps she’d been running away from something like me?

  I opened my mouth to ask her but it was too late, the moment had passed and she’d already moved on.

  “Kostas’ll be round in a bit.”

  It was great that my aunt went out so much, other women her age would be in bed by eight o’clock with their knitting, instead she was in bed by eight o’clock with… yes, well, I didn’t need to go there.

  “We’re going over to Frank’s house. He’s got satellite,” Aunt June continued.

  No Greek blockbuster television for her, then.

  “You can come too,” my aunt said quickly as if she felt a bit guilty, leaving me with the crap telly programmes.

  What - miss an evening with ‘Eleni’ the beautiful young leprosy sufferer? (Possibly that television masterpiece hasn’t hit where you are yet.) “Okay, thanks,” I replied, surprising both of us.

&n
bsp; “We’ll take your car,” my aunt told me, putting her knife and fork down on her now empty plate.

  Twenty minutes later, kitchen tidied, I was in the hallway wearing a fresh t-shirt over my jeans, waiting for my aunt to choose which scarf to wear with her outfit. She’d already given my clothes a surreptitious glance and I had a feeling they had been found wanting, although she was too polite to tell me so. By the time Kostas arrived, she had an impressive pastoral scene tied around her neck. If we got bored with the telly, we could always use it to spot local wildlife with.

  Frank O’Neill and his wife Kate were in their fifties and lived in a well kept house a mile away. I could understand why my aunt always met them at their house when I saw the show home standard of tidiness they maintained there. A visit to Aunt June’s villa would probably send them into convulsions. Whilst my arrival had improved things at her place, there was a limit on what I could do now I was working, which is what I kept telling myself as I looked at their shiny surfaces.

  “Jennifer! How lovely to see you,” Kate welcomed me, coming out of the kitchen from which delicious smells were emanating.

  “I hope I’m not intruding.”

  “Not at all, Katie’s just arrived for a visit. I’m sure she’d love to meet you.”

  Katie, their imaginatively named daughter, was a rather plump woman a few years younger than me who had squeezed herself into an alarmingly yellow t-shirt. I asked her about news from England whilst desperately trying not to think of honeydew melons. My aunt and a few others quickly fell to discussing Tina Lloyd’s murder. At least they didn’t try to drag me into it.

  “I come over a few times each year,” Katie was telling me. “It’s so easy with mum and dad living here. It’s a really cheap holiday.”

  “And you can get time off work okay?”

  “Yeah, I temp in offices so I can usually just take whatever time I need.”

  I’ve never had that knack of making my life sound so completely wonderful that people like Katie have, but it doesn’t stop me from trying.

  “I’ve just moved here myself, thought it would be great to live in the sun.” As I said this I could hear the rain, which had been threatening all day, start lashing across the windows. “I got a job at the police station, typing up stolen dog cases, things like that.”