Captive in Crete: The First Jet Wilson Cozy Mystery (Jet Wilson Cozy Mysteries Book 1) by Lyssa Stanson (best motivational books of all time .TXT) 📕

“They’ve given up,” I said, “She really is dead.”

“How awful,” said Grandma. “She must have had a weak heart. Probably the strain of depriving poor pensioners of their savings and businesses of their livelihoods every day.”

“Grandma! How can you say that? The poor woman just died in front of your eyes.”

“When you get to my age dearie, you’ve either accepted death as a simple fact of life or you’re living in denial and too scared to live. I like to live. At least that way, when it comes, I can look death in the eye and say I’ve no regrets.”

I clasped her hand and fought back a slight panic. “Don’t say things like that, I can’t bear the thought of you not being here.”

“Well best start to get used to the idea. None of us lives forever. But look on the bright side, you might die young and I’ll outlive you!” She chuckled to herself and I couldn’t help but join in. We both have a bit of a black sense of humour and it never took long for it to come to the fore after a shock.

The two paramedics loaded Adrianna onto a stretcher, covered her face with a blanket, and gently placed her into the ambulance as a truck pulled up behind the police car and Aristede stepped back into my life.

After a brief discussion with the two police officers, Aristede stepped into the taverna and addressed the anxious customers – I think we all realised Adrianna had died.

“Thank you for your patience ladies and gentlemen. If you could all remain seated for just a little longer, one of my colleagues will come to talk with you and get your contact details. We have to treat this death as suspicious until we know more, and your cooperation is greatly appreciated. Once you have spoken to us, you are free to go.”

I was expecting a mass of questions and complaints, but everyone just sat quietly. Aristede repeated his speech in Greek and German and then came directly to our table and pulled across an empty chair to sit down.

“Sheila, Jet, how nice to see you again. Although not the circumstances I would have wished for.”

“Do you think she was murdered?” asked grandma, her eyes almost sparkling.

“Why do you ask?” responded Aristede, his eyes narrowing slightly as he looked at Grandma. I wasn’t sure I liked that look.

“Well, everyone hated her. I wouldn’t be surprised.”

“Everyone?”

“Everyone with a property in Sivas. But I expect it was just a heart attack or something. The Mediterranean lifestyle isn’t what it was, especially on the mainland, and we saw she was a smoker.”

“You argued with her this afternoon, did you not? What was that about?”

“You know what that was about!” I was almost fuming; what was he trying to suggest? “You were there, and you spoke to Adrianna.”

“So I did. I am sorry if I have offended you Jet, that was not my intention.” He gazed into my eyes and I felt my stomach do a little flip.

“No, well. You have a job to do I suppose.”

“Yes, I do.” He paused, and I felt myself drowning until he finally broke my gaze and turned to face us both. “Can you tell me what you saw this evening? With as much details as you can please.”

“Well,” began Grandma, “we arrived about eight o’clock and Georgios showed us to this table. It was already quite busy.

“I pointed out Tassos to Jet, we’d spoken about him earlier in the day, and she noticed Hans and asked about him.”

“Because he was sitting alone and I thought it unusual,” I broke in hastily. Then I mentally kicked myself. I didn’t need to reassure him that I wasn’t interested in another man because I wasn’t interested in him. Most definitely not!

“Hans is a German gentleman—”

“Yes, I know about Hans. I met him when his wife died.” Aristede looked at the tables around us. “But he is not here now? Did you see him leave?”

“Oh yes,” I said, “He left before Adrianna arrived.”

“They kicked him off his table so they could give it to Adrianna,” continued Grandma. “He wasn’t best pleased.”

“But this was before Adrianna arrived? And they cleared the table for her?”

“Yes. They moved it nearer the front, so everything had to come off.”

“Ok, then what?”

I was expecting Aristede to be writing notes of what we said – that’s what they do in all the best detective books – but he just sat calmly whilst we spoke, his attention flitting from me to Grandma as we took turns to tell the story.

“Melani gave Adrianna a menu and told her the specials and Georgios brought an ashtray.” I was thinking carefully. “Or did Georgios bring the menu too?”

“It was Georgios,” confirmed Grandma. “Then Melani came to us to take our order.”

“I had briam.” Oh my god, what was I thinking? Like a fifteen-year-old schoolgirl trying (and failing) to impress a holiday crush with her local knowledge. And I didn’t want to impress him. Absolutely not!

Aristede smirked. “An excellent choice.” His eyes dropped to my neck and I could feel the blush creeping up towards my face. Fortunately, Grandma distracted him with the next part of the tale.

“The table moving had caused quite a bit of a ruckus, but from then on everything carried on as usual. Our food arrived and we had almost finished when Adrianna was taken ill.”

“Yiannis got up to help and started CPR,” I continued. “Melani tried to keep everyone calm and then the ambulance and police car arrived. I guess you know the rest.”

“I do. Thank you, you have been most helpful.

“One more thing though: Sheila, you