Captive in Crete: The First Jet Wilson Cozy Mystery (Jet Wilson Cozy Mysteries Book 1) by Lyssa Stanson (phonics story books .txt) 📗

across the square, I remembered we were out of conditioner, so I detoured across to the mini-market. I was perusing the various bottles and trying to decipher the Greek letters into something that might mean conditioner when someone bumped me from behind.

“Signomy Thespenis. Oh, pardon me, I’m so sorry. Jet, isn’t it?” I turned and saw Adrianna’s husband, widower I should say, juggling an armful of groceries.

“Yes, Spiros, I remember.” I gave a little laugh. “It is a bit crowded in here, isn’t it? Oh, maybe you could help me. I’m looking for conditioner, but all the labels are in Greek.”

Spiros leant forward to see the label on the bottle I was holding, and he laughed.

“That’s shampoo. There, that one,” he gestured with his chin and I pointed. “No, to the left. No, left. Yes, that’s it.”

“Thank you so much. I would have felt a bit of an idiot when it foamed up.”

“Yes, but your hair would be very clean!” He smiled at me and I returned it. He had seemed a bit abrupt in the car but now he seemed relaxed and friendly. I guess learning that your wife has just died and then having to get on an aeroplane to go reclaim her body would deter anyone from making much small talk.

“Will you be able to take Adrianna home soon? You must be anxious to get back.”

His smile vanished. “What makes you say that? Why would I be in a hurry?”

“Oh, er… I just thought… that is… your business.”

“Yes. Yes, of course. I’m sorry. I’m a bit on edge. This is still very upsetting.”

Hmm, he didn’t seem upset a minute ago. Was there something other than his business, someone perhaps, that he wanted to get back to?

“Of course. It must be devastating. I’m sorry to have mentioned it.”

He gave me a nod and walked to the counter where he dropped his bundle of groceries and took out his wallet. His phone rang almost immediately, and he snatched it up to answer. He gestured to the lady at the till and walked outside to talk.

We waited for him to return. I tried to suggest I could pay for my one item while we waited but my Greek wasn’t up to the challenge, so I wandered off to add crisps and yogurt to my hoard.

Finally, Spiros returned and paid for his groceries. I did likewise and headed home for my much-needed shower.

Chapter Nine – Wednesday evening

Matt was due to arrive at six for pre-dinner cocktails – a favourite ritual of Grandma’s. I made sure I was showered and changed in plenty of time and sat outside to wait. The ginger and white cat sauntered up to my chair, so I put my hand down for her to sniff. I thought I would let her get to know me a little before I attempted to give her a stroke. I soon changed my mind though, as she sniffed and then bit my fingers.

“Ow!” I whipped my hand out of reach. “You didn’t do that with Aristede, did you? Are you hungry? Does Grandma feed you? Well, you’ll just have to wait until she gets home.” I realised I was starting to sound like a crazy cat lady and stopped speaking. The cat ignored me and walked back up the path to plonk herself down under the lemon tree.

Matt arrived promptly but Grandma was not yet back. I couldn’t quite decide if she was absorbed in her herb hunt, had maybe even found the elusive weed, or if she was deliberately giving me alone time with Matt, despite all my protestations of mere friendship.

We had a mix of juices with just a splash of rum and drank them under the pergola. At seven, there was still no sign of her – I decided the latter possibility had become the more likely and silently cursed her. We left her a note telling her where we would be and headed out for dinner. I figured she would join us eventually and I was quite sure that Matt wouldn’t get any ideas. He could never consider a colleague, particularly someone he managed, even indirectly, as anything more than a friend, and I had been clear back in London that I would welcome the opportunity of another contract at some point in the future.

We headed up the hill from the square – I gave Melani a slightly guilty wave as we passed – and turned in at what looked like the driveway for an old villa at the top. A path signed with arrows led us around the side of the house and into a beautiful garden. Small tables sat dotted under the shade of leafy trees, the trunks of which were painted white. It was still daylight, but candles were lit on each table, giving the place an intimate feel. I could understand Grandma suggesting it for a romantic meal, but a couple of tables were obviously groups of friends and there was even a singleton looking comfortable in the ambiance.

We were shown to a table beside the small wall at the far edge of the garden and ordered some white wine to drink whilst we considered the menu. The view was amazing, stretching across the hills to the sea in the distance. The sun had already started its descent and the few, wispy clouds, just tinged with red, were promising to produce a spectacular sunset. I took a deep sigh and relaxed, drinking in the view.

“This place is amazing. I hope the food lives up to the view,” said Matt.

“Oh, it will. Grandma knows me better than to suggest going somewhere where the food will disappoint, no matter how good the view.”

“You’re very close to your grandmother, aren’t you?”

“Yes. She’s always accepted me, no matter what. Even during the terrible teens.”

“Then she was around a lot? When