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

“You’re right, I know. I need to solve this murder, clear her name. Then they’ll bring her home, not chuck her in a cell.”

Matt gave me a strange look that I couldn’t decipher.

“So,” he said, “what would Miss Marple do?”

“Look for clues, I guess. Oh! I know! Vori!”

“Vori?”

“Yes, she told me twice that she should take me to Vori, to the ethnological museum. She said it when we were talking about Adrianna. Maybe there’s something there that relates to the village, something that could help with the legalisations. Maybe point at who would be most likely to gain from Adrianna’s death.”

“Is that the one with the ‘fascinating display of basket weaving’?”

“Yes. I don’t think that’s that she was wanting to show me though.”

“But you’re not sure what is?”

“No. I’m hoping I’ll know it when I see it.”

“Right. Let’s do it then.” He smiled at me and I smiled back. It felt good to have something to do. To take my mind off of… things. I pushed the painful thoughts down into my subconscious. I was a woman of action now.

* * * * *

It took us a little while to find the museum. We parked outside the church and wandered up and down tiny roads. Eventually one road ended in an arch that opened out into a courtyard with houses off it and there, nestled under a stone stairway, was a set back door with a free-standing board outside advertising the museum.

“They don’t seem to be too keen on visitors,” I said, as we made our way in.

They welcomed us warmly enough though and we started to look around.

“The baskets are upstairs, I believe,” said Matt.

“Hmm, let’s start down here then,” I said with a grin.

The first displays were of ancient pots and farming implements, becoming more modern as we went on. When we got to the area dealing with conflict, there were artefacts from the second world war. I recognised the rifle stands as being the same as the struts on the wall surrounding Grandma’s garden and called Matt over to look.

“Wow, that’s a bit... I don’t know, spooky?” he said.

“I know the island was occupied by the Germans during the war. I guess they ended up leaving stuff behind at the end and the locals made use of it.”

“Recycling at its finest.”

We carried on round and on to the upstairs rooms. These had the promised baskets, which turned out to be more interesting than I expected, as well as furniture, clothes and musical instruments. Nothing called out to me with a revelation though and I made my way back downstairs to wait for Matt to finish looking round.

I went back to the display of rifles and other weaponry, wondering if the rifle stands could be the thing Grandma was eager to show me. I turned back towards the stairs and, for the first time, noticed a large poster on the wall above. It had a timeline through the ages down the side and different countries or empires across the top. Each column then showed what was happening in each at different times. I started reading and was quickly engrossed.

“What’s that?” Matt asked. I hadn’t noticed him coming down the stairs nor coming round to look over my shoulder.

“It’s a timeline of Crete in contrast to other countries. See how everywhere else has the rising of an empire, the industrial revolution, the renaissance. Crete is invaded, then there’s an uprising that’s quelled with much bloodshed, then another, then they’re invaded by someone else, then more uprisings until they’re invaded by someone else.

“The Turks seem to be the worst. They prevented them from building roads or owning boats, practically starving the population in the process of preventing uprisings.”

“No wonder they don’t get on!”

“It’s a wonder they’re so welcoming to foreigners. By rights, they ought to hate everyone.”

“Yes,” said Matt, sounding thoughtful. “Have you ever been to the monastery at Arkadiou?”

“No. It’s mentioned here though. A siege?”

“Yes, during the second world war. The Germans surrounded it and tried to starve them out.”

“A monastery? Why?”

“It was war. The resistance had weapons and explosives stored in the basement. They ended it by blowing themselves up rather than let the enemy get the supplies.”

“Oh, but that’s awful.”

“Yes. They never re-built it; you can visit now but it has a very sombre atmosphere.”

I shivered. “Let’s go. I want to get back into the sunshine.”

We managed to find our way to the square without any difficulty and sat down at the small kafenion for a coffee.

“So, what do you think Sheila wanted to show you?” asked Matt.

“I’m not sure to be honest. It could be the rifle stands. Maybe they indicate the age of the property?”

“Hmm, that dates the wall to 1945 or after. It was likely built later than the house but could have been built at the same time.”

“Making the house too young for the exemption.”

“Probably not them then.”

“The other possibility is the timeline.”

“How would that help?” Matt asked, taking a cautious sip of his drink.

“I’m not really sure, but it does show why the Cretans have different prices for foreigners and, in particular, Germans.”

“Not sure I’m following you there,” said Matt with a frown.

“Ah, yes, I didn’t tell you. Tassos came to visit this morning looking to get Grandma’s signature on a letter to help him persuade the authorities to let him do the legalisations in Sivas. He told me that Hans had signed because he wanted to get his fee reduced. Someone told him he’d been charged the German price.”

“The German price?”

“Most things have a price for Greeks, a price for foreigners and a price for Germans. Each higher than the