Family Crime: A Kat Makris Greek Mafia Novel by Alex A. King

Author:Alex A. King [King, Alex A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-02-25T16:00:00+00:00

I was in Baby Dimitri’s shoe and souvenir shop, but I wasn’t in Baby Dimitri’s shoe and souvenir shop. Mentally I was preparing to venture back to Zoi’s apartment. My gut told me she was involved with my aunt’s disappearance somehow. Maybe not directly, but definitely peripherally. If she wasn’t home, my big plan was to perform a little breaking and entering. Elias was already on board. Mostly because I told him he had to be.

“You can be the lookout,” I’d told him.

“Okay,” he’d said.

Easygoing guy, Elias.

Donk yawned non-stop all morning. “I need to sleep.”

His uncle’s face twisted in disgust—but it was a borderline affectionate form of contempt. For all his posturing, I was confident he didn’t mind Donk’s existence too much. “When I was your age, I worked three jobs. Do you know how much sleep I got? Two hours every morning, between 3:00 and 5:00 AM, when my mother would get up and kick me out from in front of the oven so she could fix breakfast for my baba.

“Same, same,” Laki said. “But first my mama would let me start the fire.”

Of all the things that were surprising in this world, that wasn’t one of them. “So what happens now?” I asked. “With Meth Village, I mean.”

Baby Dimitri watched Laki roll a cigarette. When his firebug pal blanked out mid-roll, he finished the job in his stead. He licked the paper strip, sealed the cigarette, placed it on Laki’s bottom lip. “Nothing, that is what. The sisa is gone and so are the cooks.”

According to Grandma they were in the burn unit, but I didn’t enlighten him. “You’re just going to let it go? That doesn’t sound like you.”

“What else do you want me to do, eh?”

Laki lit up. “Hunt them down and make more fire.”

Baby Dimitri slapped the air. “Do not listen to him. I am not hunting anybody, not for some sisa. When it was there for the taking, no problem. But now? The reward is too small.”

“You don’t want to know who they were cooking for?”

“What do I care? I sell shoes, I sell souvenirs, I look at pretty women on the paralia. Life is good.”

“Uh huh.”

“She does not believe me,” he said to Laki. “Okay, Katerina Makris-with-an-s, tell me this: Why were you late this morning?”

I rolled out my favorite excuse, the one that had saved me from many a gym class. Exercise wasn’t my enemy, but I preferred it on my terms. “Women’s troubles.”

Laki flashed a golden and gappy grin. “More like Baboulas troubles.”

“What kind of Baboulas troubles?” Baby Dimitri asked me.

“What makes you think my sweet, elderly grandmother is any kind of trouble?”

“She has been trouble since the day she was born.”

Given that we were between customers, I leaned against the exterior wall, hand on hip. “Any stories you want to share?”

“No.”

“You’re no fun.”

“When did I promise fun?” Baby Dimitri swung around to look at Laki. “Did I make promises about fun?”

Gold gleamed. “You want fun, Katerina, come with me. We can make fire together.

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