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

Author:Alex A. King [King, Alex A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-10-20T04:00:00+00:00

Melas walked me back to Grandma’s yard. The firing squad was waiting: Grandma, Aunt Rita, and Papou with his two eagles. Yiorgos the eagle was pecking its stuffed brother’s glass eye.

“Where did you go? What did you do?” Grandma wanted to know.

Aunt Rita looked me up and down. “And where is your dress?”

“Xander has the dress. Our date took a strange turn so I changed clothes.”

Grandma looked to Melas, who cleared his throat. “Katerina had an excellent idea. I wanted to follow up immediately. Which reminds me, I have to go.” He pecked—pecked!—me on the cheek and took off.

Everybody looked at me.

“If you had kept the dress on that would have been more than a peck,” Aunt Rita said.

“More like a poke,” Papou said.

Grandma shot them both with her killer stink eye. “There will be no poking, but I am surprised there was not more kissing.”

Dad emerged from Grandma’s dilapidated shack. He had an Amstel Light in one hand and a plate of feta, olives, and bread in the other. “If he pokes her I will cut off his poutsa and then I will give it to Papou as a necklace.” He winked at me. Melas’s wiener was safe from Dad, as long as he didn’t hurt me.

“Try,” Papou said, “and I will make you eat wood.”

“I have done it before,” Dad said.

The valleys on Papou’s face deepened. “I thought that necklace was made of chili peppers.”

“Poutsas,” Dad said casually. “Sheep poutsas.”

“Where did you get that many sheep poutsas?”

Was it my imagination or did Papou sound impressed?

“I won them in a card game,” Dad said, offering me his plate. I helped myself to a small cube of feta and an olive. Greek feta was a million percent better than the stuff Dad bought at home.

“Where did Nikos have to go in such a big hurry anyway?” Grandma asked.

“Another fire.”

“Another one … po-po. Rita, ask the Google where the fire is.”

Thumbs flying, Aunt Rita did Grandma’s bidding. “Agria. This one is an old house on the waterfront.”

Agria is a local village that’s technically part of Volos now.

“What was this strange turn your date took?” my aunt asked.

I told them what I knew about the thieves. “Hera has issues.” I explained in as little detail as possible what I knew about Hera’s obsession.

“And he thinks Hera took Litsa’s body?” Grandma asked.

“Melas doesn’t think so.”

Grandma and Dad exchanged glances. Neither of them said anything, which made me wonder if Papou and Aunt Rita knew about their crime-fighting alter egos.

“Hera is crazy,” Grandma said, “but what would she want with Litsa’s body?”

That was a good question. If Hera had a motive I couldn’t see it from here.

My phone rang. Baby Dimitri was on the other end.

“Katerina Makris-with-an-s, my sister just called me crying and crying. She is looking for that worthless nephew of mine. Is he with you?”

I hadn’t seen him for days. Which was weird, now that I thought about it. The skinny teenager had a way of popping up in the strangest places—Portland and Naples; my backseat; the family compound.

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