Captive in Crete: The First Jet Wilson Cozy Mystery (Jet Wilson Cozy Mysteries Book 1) Lyssa Stanson (best interesting books to read TXT) 📖

“No, I don’t think so. I think he knew I was trying to gather evidence. He just thinks I’m wasting my time.”

“Because Sheila’s guilty.” He gave a grim smile and huffed. “How can he believe that? How could anyone?”

I felt a warm rush of relief. Or gratitude. Or something. It was warm though.

“At least he didn’t throw me in jail. What did you find out about Tassos?”

“Ah, yes, right.” He rummaged in his backpack and drew out a sheaf of papers.

“I found a contact at our Athens office and he managed to get a copy of Tassos’s company accounts. It’s just the business of course, nothing personal, but on the assumption that it’s his only source of income it’ll give us an idea of his circumstances.”

“That’s brilliant. What does it say?”

He handed me the papers, but it was all in Greek and meant nothing to me. I looked over at him in despair.

“I hate this language!” I said, with feeling.

“You just need to look at the numbers. A P&L and Balance sheet are pretty much the same in any language.”

“Matt, I’m not a qualified accountant. Not even part qualified. I just do reconciliations. This means nothing to me.”

“Sorry, Jet. I forget about that sometimes. Basically you need to look here – at the bottom line. That’s the company’s income after tax and all other expenses.”

“That’s how much he earns? It’s tiny.”

“Well, it’s how much he can take out as dividends. He might also be taking a salary, of course. And be employing his wife. My guess is that the salary total is this number here.” He pointed to a not very large number.

“So, he’s not making very much at all.”

“No. But living in Crete is way cheaper than living in London. That might be a comfortable income here, I just don’t know.”

“Hmm. Melani would have more idea. I could maybe ask her, tactfully of course.”

“Of course. You could take her cookies.”

I flicked beer at him and he we both laughed. It felt good, briefly.

“Come on,” I said, back to business. “Let’s go get dinner.”

* * * * *

The square was bustling when we arrived. Georgios greeted us warmly, giving Matt an appraising once-over. He showed us to a cosy table set back from the main area and I inwardly sighed. Another matchmaker. I didn’t complain though, it meant we could talk freely without fear of being overheard.

I asked Georgios to tell Melani we were there and that I wanted to speak to her when she had a minute. But then another customer called him, so he gave us our menus and, with a wink, disappeared into the throng of busy tables.

“We’ll probably need to wait until later, when it’s quieter,” I said.

“Yes, it’s pretty heaving in here tonight,” Matt said, looking round at the square. “Much busier than the other tavernas.”

“You’re right. I had thought maybe the murder would keep people away – you know, guest poisoned during her meal. It’s not exactly the best recommendation.”

“Well, it seems to have had the opposite effect.”

“Maybe everyone’s hoping for some more excitement.”

“As long as it’s not on their table, of course.”

Before long, Georgios reappeared bearing a beer, which he set down in front of me, and a glass of water which he set down in front of Matt. Matt looked surprised.

“Yes, me too,” said Georgios. “But I go with the flow. I guess you need a clear head tonight.”

“I guess I do, at that,” said Matt, taking a sip.

We ordered our food – I just asked for whatever Georgios thought would be good that day. I couldn’t summon much enthusiasm for food while I didn’t know if Grandma was safe, or hungry, or even… No, don’t go there.

It turned out I was wrong about having to wait until later for Melani to appear. She came out with our food, pulled up a chair and sat down, leaning forward to speak.

“My dear, is something wrong with Sheila? I have not seen her all day and now you are here without her?” She gave Matt a look and then a beaming smile. “Although maybe this handsome young man is the reason why.”

“This is Matt, a friend from London.” My heart was sinking. Of course, she didn’t know that Grandma was missing. I hadn’t wanted to tell anyone; I’m not sure why. Maybe Aristede’s unwavering conviction of Grandma’s guilt made me think others would come to the same conclusion. I would have to tell Melani though. I couldn’t lie to her. She would be sympathetic, naturally, but she would also tell the whole village.

“Nice to meet you Matt. Welcome to our village,” she was saying when I refocussed.

“Thank you, it’s nice to meet you too.”

“So, Sheila? Is she ill?” Melani turned back to me, all business again. I took a deep breath.

“Grandma is missing. She didn’t come home from her trip yesterday.”

“Oh, my dear, that is terrible. Do you have people out looking for her? I will call Georgios, my family, we will help. Where was she last seen? Where was she going yesterday?”

“That’s so kind of you but I don’t really know where she went, and I can’t take you away from your business. The police are looking for her. I’m sure they’ll find her.”

“Hah! The police, they don’t make much effort. Especially now with Adrianna. They are too busy trying to shut me down.”

“No, they are looking for her. They’re looking really hard.” I swallowed the lump in my throat. “They think she killed Adrianna.”

Melani fell silent and just sat, looking at me with her mouth open.

“What did you say?” she finally managed.

“The police think Grandma killed Adrianna. They’re hunting her.”

“The police think Sheila killed Adrianna?”

“Yes.”