A Big Fat Greek Murder

Book 2: Goddess of Greene St. Mystery

by Kate Collins

Genres: Amateur Sleuth; Cozy Mystery

Synopsis

Single mom Athena Spencer is back in Michigan working at her family's garden center, raising a pet racoon, and digging up clues in the smart new mystery series by the New York Times bestselling author of the Flower Shop Mysteries . . .



The entire family has been put to work when a big fat Greek wedding rehearsal is booked at the Parthenon. All hands are needed for rolling grape leaves, layering moussaka, and keeping the bride calm. But then the groom goes MIA and there's far more to worry about then just whether Yiayia's lemon rice soup has gone cold.



No matter how tangy the tzatziki, everyone's appetite is ruined when the groom is found dead, a pair of scissors planted in his back. When the bride accuses Athena's sister Selene, a hairstylist, of seducing and stabbing her fiancé, it's all-out war—and it's up to Athena to dig up the dirt on the suspects and nip these suspicions in the bud . . .

Release date: December 1, 2020

Publisher: Kensington Books

Print pages: 258

Sample

Friday

I posted the blog, closed my laptop, and turned in my chair to look at the small bedroom closet overflowing with clothes from my former life. Somewhere in that mess was the dress I’d be wearing to the rehearsal dinner.

A white knight. Hmm. Dark wavy hair, strong jaw, soulful eyes that seem to look through me, melt me like butter . . . and there was Case Donnelly once again creeping into my thoughts. After inviting him to meet me for a drink after the rehearsal dinner, and his nonchalant excuse, I cursed myself for taking the chance. A white knight was out there somewhere for me, but clearly it wasn’t Case Donnelly.

I took a deep breath and began the hunt for my black dress.

Fifteen minutes later, after one last look in the bathroom mirror, I kissed my ten-year-old son, Nicholas, good-bye, blew a kiss at my youngest sister, Delphi, who’d stayed home to babysit, grabbed my purse and a lightweight coat, and hurried out to my white SUV for the ten-minute ride to the Parthenon, my grandparents’ diner.

My phone rang through the car’s speakers, and I tapped a button to answer, “Hello.”

“Thenie, it’s Dad. I need your help.”

“I’m almost at the Parthenon, Pops. What’s up?”

“Mrs. Bird is out back pecking at the new rose bushes and demanding to see you, Delphi is babysitting your son, and I’ve got a line of customers out the door. I know you promised your mother that you’d help out at the diner, but I could really use your help.”

“Might I mention again that we need seasonal employees?”

“You can lecture me when you get here.”

“I can’t make it right now, Pops. I’ll call Delphi. She can bring Nicholas with her.”

“Thanks, but we need a landscape consultant or we’re going to lose Mrs. Bird’s business.”

“Let Delphi ring up the customers. You can handle Mrs. Bird.”

“That’s not the answer I was looking for.”

“I’ll be there as soon as I can, Pops.”

Landscape consultant was on the opposite end of the spectrum from my former job as a newspaper reporter in Chicago. The vibrant tourist town of Sequoia was equally distant on the spectrum from the bustling Windy City that my son and I used to call home. The two cities shared the same water, but the breeze blowing east from Lake Michigan felt different. It smelled different, fresher perhaps.

If circumstances hadn’t forced me to move back into the big family home, I’d still be running around the city, interviewing people and sitting at a computer until late at night to turn in my “noteworthy” articles. Instead, I was able to be outdoors working with plants and flowers and the cheerful people who came to our garden center to buy them. And at last, after one month of working in the office, learning the ins and outs of the business end of the operation, my dad felt I was ready to try my hand at landscape design. Turned out, I loved it.

I parked my car in the public lot on the block behind Greene Street and scurried up the alley. I entered through a back gate in the high fence and made my way to the outdoor eating area. With white wrought-iron tables and chairs, a concrete patio floor painted Grecian blue, white Greek-style columns on each corner, and blue-and-white lights strung around the entire perimeter, Yiayiá and Pappoús could not have made it look cozier or more inviting.

At least I thought so. But the guests didn’t seem to be enjoying it. In fact, there was a distinctly unhappy vibe in the air, as Delphi would say. My mother was standing in front of the kitchen door, worrying the thick gold Greek bracelet she was never without. As I approached, my feet already hurting, Mama said, “It’s not good, Athena. The groom-to-be hasn’t shown up, and no one can reach him. What are you wearing?”

My mother had on black slacks with a Grecian blue blouse, or, as Mama referred to blue, “the color of the Ionian Sea.” Unfortunately, I hadn’t gotten the memo, so I was the oddball in my short black dress and strappy black heels. And no prince in sight. “I didn’t know there was a dress code.”

I glanced around at the tables, full of worried, whispering guests. “Maybe he got cold feet. Did he show up for the rehearsal?”

“They’re having the wedding rehearsal after the dinner because some of the family members had to work.”

“Why such a big crowd for a rehearsal dinner?” I asked. “Usually it’s just for the wedding party.”

“The Blacks decided to include the families of the wedding party,” Mama said. “They’re wealthy, and they pay very well. I wasn’t about to question them on their decision.”

I scanned the area, making mental notes. The wedding party was gathered at the head table, where Mandy, the bride-to-be, in a yellow silk dress, was being consoled not only by her bridesmaids, but also her parents and my oldest sister, Selene. Mitchell, the bride’s twin brother and best man, stood directly behind them, checking his watch and looking perturbed, while maid of honor Tonya stood off to the side, talking quietly on her phone.

“What about the groom’s parents?” I asked. “Have they heard from him?”

“His parents aren’t here,” Mama said. “Apparently, they declined the invitation.”

My sister Maia joined us, breathless with news. “I just heard that two of Brady’s groomsmen have gone to his apartment to see what the holdup is. He lives down the road, so it shouldn’t take long—and aren’t those my heels, Athena? And why are you so dressed up?”

Mama licked her thumb to wipe away a smudge from under Maia’s eye, causing my sister to roll her head to the side. “Never mind about her outfit,” Mama said, “and good for those brave boys. Yiayiá and Pappoús will be pleased. You know how upset they get if their food gets cold. Hold still, Maia.”

That was so typical of our Greek family—more concerned about the guests missing a meal than the bride-to-be missing her groom.

Submitting to my mother’s ministrations, Maia rolled her eyes, while I tried to hide my smile with a cough.

Maia was born after me; we were the two middle sisters of four, all named after Greek goddesses—Selene after the moon goddess, me after Athena, goddess of war and wisdom, and Maia after goddess of the fields. The exception was our youngest sister, Delphi, who was named in honor of the Oracle of Delphi. Stymied that she wasn’t a “goddess,” Delphi had long ago decided that she had the gift of foresight and was a true modern-day oracle. The remarkable thing was that sometimes she got her predictions right.

Also remarkable was how much Maia, Selene, and Delphi looked like our mother, shortish in stature, with fuller curves, lots of curly black hair, and typical Greek features. I, on the other hand, took after my father’s English side of the family, inheriting his light brown hair, slender body, oval face, and softer features. In family photos, I was the gawky, pale-skinned girl in the back row standing beside the tall, pale-skinned man.

Selene broke away from the inconsolable bride and headed in our direction, an exasperated look on her face—coincidentally, the same expression Mama was wearing. Because she was also part of the wedding party, Selene wore a black-and-white sheath dress and heels instead of the waitress outfit.

“Selene,” Mama said, “go back and ask the bride’s mother whether we should serve the appetizers now. These poor people have to eat something.”

“I just came from there,” Selene replied, looking even more exasperated than before. “I don’t think they’re in any mood to—”

Mama gave her “the look,” and Selene did an about-face, slipping away obediently.

My grandmother joined our little group then, asking if she and Pappoús should start serving the lemon rice soup known as avgolemono (pronounced “ahv-lemono”).

“No, Yiayiá,” I said. “We’re waiting for the groom to arrive.”

“Still?” she asked in her high, raspy voice. “But the people need food.”

Maia looked at me, trying to suppress another eye roll. I couldn’t help but laugh, rubbing my grandmother’s back to calm her down.

“Why you laugh?” Yiayiá asked with a scowl. Standing at a mere five feet high, she wore a black blouse, a long, full, black-print cotton skirt, and thick-soled black shoes. The only brightness in her outfit was a blue—excuse me—Ionian Sea–colored scarf that wrapped around her white hair, wound into its usual tight knot at the back of her head.

“It shouldn’t be long, Mama,” my mother said to her, shooting us a glare. “We expect them at any moment.”

“Endáksi,” she said with a sigh and a shrug. Okay. Wearing her usual world-weary expression, she headed back into the kitchen to share the news with Pappoús.

Suddenly, the two absent groomsmen came jogging around the corner of the restaurant, out of breath and wild-eyed. “Brady,” one gasped, holding his side, “he’s been hurt. Badly.”

“Taken,” the second groomsmen said, bending over to gulp air, “to the hospital.”

As the guests rose to their feet in concern, the bride gathered her full skirt and ran toward the two men, grabbing onto the shirt front of one. “Trevor, is Brady dead?”

In between gulps of air, Trevor replied, “He was—unconscious—when the paramedics—took him away.”

Mandy took a step backward as though she’d been pushed. “Then he’s alive?”

“We don’t know,” Patrick, the other groomsman said, “We found him on his apartment floor with a pair of—”

“Patrick,” Trevor snapped, giving a subtle nod in Mandy’s direction.

“With a pair of what?” Mandy cried, grabbing his shirt front again. “Tell me. With what?”

Trevor’s chin began to tremble, and a tear ran down his cheek. “Scissors in his back.”

There was a collective gasp. My mother made the sign of the cross. Maia’s mouth dropped open. Selene froze in place. I spotted Tonya, the bridesmaid who’d been on the cell phone, turn to give the other bridesmaids a knowing look, and I instantly filed it away.

“The police are on their way, Mandy,” Patrick said. “They’ll be able to tell you more.”

The bride-to-be collapsed in a puddle of yellow silk, sobbing hysterically, “Brady’s dead. I know he’s dead. What will I do? Oh my God, what will I do?”

Her parents helped her to her chair and sat on either side of her, rubbing her hands, while her brother strode toward the two groomsmen to have a whispered conference. My mother hurried over to talk to the bride’s mother, who was consoling her distraught daughter. That was when I spotted Selene, her face ashen, slip around the guests and disappear into the kitchen.

Before I could follow her, Mama returned to say quietly to us, “I just spoke with Mandy and her parents. They’re going to stay here until the police arrive. Maia, go tell Yiayiá and Pappoús we’ll start serving the soup afterward.”

“Maia, wait!” I called, as she started toward the kitchen. “Mama, no one is going to stay for dinner. This is supposed to be a celebration.”

“But they must eat!” she cried. “Think of all the food waiting for them.”

“Athena is right, Mama,” Maia said. “They’ve just had horrible news. They’re not going to sit down and dine now.”

Mama put her hand over her forehead. “Then go tell your grandparents that, Maia.”

“I’ll tell them,” I said, and headed inside to deliver the message and find out why Selene had slipped away.

“Yiayiá, Pappoús, the dinner has been canceled,” I announced. “The groom was taken to the hospital with a serious injury.”

Pappoús stopped stirring the soup, and Yiayiá straightened, putting one hand on her lower back. Almost in unison they said, “But the people have to eat!”

“It’s not appropriate to serve food when there’s been a calamity,” I explained.

“Calamity is right,” Yiayiá said grumpily, eyeing all the food.

“The groom is injured, sure,” Pappoús said in his thick Greek accent, “but what about the others?”

“They’ll be going home soon.” I glanced around but didn’t see my sister. “Yiayiá, did you see Selene come through the kitchen?”

“She’s sitting out there by herself,” Yiayiá replied, nodding her head toward the swinging doors to the diner. “Maybe you can talk to her. She won’t tell me what’s wrong.”

I found my sister in a booth in the empty diner, staring blankly into space. She had scooted to the far end, with her back to the wall and her feet hanging off the edge. I slid in opposite her and reached for her hand.

“What’s wrong, Selene? You look like you just lost your best friend.”

Her gaze shifted to mine, and I saw fear in her eyes. Just as she was about to speak, my mother stepped into the room and clapped her hands. “Girls, the police are here. They want everyone outside except for Yiayiá and Pappoús. Páme!”

As soon as Mama left, Selene bent her head and sobbed. I hadn’t seen my oldest sister cry since we were children, and it startled me. Selene had always been strong and bold, the fearless firstborn, a role model for her sisters. Now she wept as though her heart was broken.

“Selene, what is it?”

“Stay with me, Athena,” she sobbed, reaching for my hand. “Don’t leave my side.”

“I won’t, but tell me why.”

“The scissors in Brady’s back? I think they’re mine.”

I sat back in shock. “Your scissors were used to stab the groom?”

“They disappeared yesterday,” she said in a frightened whisper. “What if they’re mine? What if someone stole them? You know I’ll be the first to be suspected.”

“That’s not possible, Selene. You can’t even step on a spider, let alone stab someone.”

With a trembling lower lip, she said, “Thenie, please listen. If they are mine, then my fingerprints will be on them. My DNA. You know the police will think I stabbed him.”

I massaged my eyes, thinking. Selene was the most requested stylist at the popular Over the Top hair salon, especially for wedding parties, but there shouldn’t be any reason to assume her scissors were used. “First of all, if Brady survived the attack, he should be able to tell the police who it was. Second, you don’t have a motive. You don’t even know Brady. And, third, you were at the hair salon, so you didn’t have the opportunity.”

Selene looked up at me with big, watery eyes. Her hands trembled in her lap. She opened her mouth as though to speak, but no words came.

“What, Selene?” I asked. “Talk to me. What’s going on?”

She inhaled deeply and blurted, “I do know Brady.”

“Because of the wedding?”

She shook her head.

“You don’t know him that well, do you?”

Again, she held back her answer. I had a bad feeling deep inside my stomach, and I leaned forward. “How well do you know Brady Rogers?”

She finally blurted out her response. “He was my workout coach at the gym, but I couldn’t stand him. I quit going to the gym because of him. He was a bad guy, Thenie, and I had to let his manager know. I think I almost got him fired.”

“Okay,” I said, thinking quickly, “but that’s a very weak motive for murder. And you have an alibi for today, right? You were at the salon?”

She looked down and shook her head. She didn’t seem ashamed, just in shock as the bad news began to pile up. “I was off today. I spent the day at my apartment until I came here to help Mama serve.”

I wanted to tell her that things would be okay, but as I stared at her, I realized that I was now the one with an open mouth and no words. It wasn’t out of the ordinary to not like a workout coach or file a complaint, but she didn’t have an alibi, and that was most definitely a concern.

“What, Athena? What are you thinking?”

“I don’t want you to worry, Selene. If they want to question you, I’ll be right there to make sure they do it properly. When I was a news reporter, I dealt with the police all the time.”

“You promise you’ll stay with me?”

I held my hand over my heart. “Goddess’s honor.”

“Athena?”

I turned to see Bob Maguire, a tall, slender, redheaded police officer, standing in the doorway, holding one of the swinging doors open. Maguire was well acquainted with my sisters and me because we’d all attended the same high school. He and I had become friends because we’d both been shunned by the popular kids. Bob had been the class clown. I’d been the class nerd.

Regardless of our friendship, my concern now was how best to protect my sister, so I slid out of the booth and stood in front of Selene so he wouldn’t see her tear-streaked face. “Hey, Maguire. What’s the news on the groom?”

“You both need to come outside,” he said.

His somber look and tone scared me. I smiled and gave him a thumbs-up. “We’ll be right out.”

As soon as he was gone, Selene said, “He’s got bad news. I know he does.” She was trembling so hard her teeth were chattering.

“You can do this, Selene. You’re goddess of the moon, remember? Fearless and beautiful.”

She lifted her head at that and dried her eyes with her fingertips. “You’re right. I can do this.” At that, she scooted out of the booth, took a deep breath, and squared her shoulders. “Okay, warrior goddess, let’s go.”

Arm in arm, we walked back outside to find Officer Gomez waiting for us.

“Miss Spencer,” he said curtly, giving me a nod.

“Officer Gomez,” I said in the same tone.

“Wait here with me, please,” he said, “while Officer Maguire makes an announcement.

Selene grabbed my hand and held it tightly.

Officer Juan Gomez, a humorless, twenty-something cop who was fairly new to the force, hadn’t liked me since I’d gotten in the way of a police investigation by hiding a man wrongly accused of murder. He’d liked me even less when that man, Case Donnelly, and I had uncovered the true killer’s identity before the detectives had.

I glanced around to see Maguire and a third officer talking with Mandy Black and the bride’s parents. Mrs. Black had her arms around her distraught daughter, patting her shoulder to calm her while their guests sat frozen to their chairs. The only other movement came from the blue-and-white lights around the patio swaying in the evening breeze.

As the third officer escorted Mandy and her parents out to a waiting car, Maguire stood at the head table, facing the seated group, and said in a loud voice, “Folks, may I have your attention please? I’m afraid we have bad news. The bride has asked us to tell you that her fiancé, Brady Rogers, has passed away.”

As horrified gasps ran through the crowd, Selene sagged against me, and it was only by sheer effort that I was able to hold her up. Immediately, Maia was on her other side, helping to keep her on her feet.

“Let’s get her to a chair,” I said.

“Don’t let Mama see her,” Maia whispered to me.

“Don’t let Mama see who?” Mama asked. “Selene, give me your arm.”

“Where are you going?” Gomez snapped to the four of us.

“Right there,” Mama said, pointing to the long, empty banquet table three feet away. “Our feet hurt. We’re going to sit down.”

Gomez gave a curt nod and stepped back, somehow sensing he’d never win a battle against our mother.

We sat down as Bob Maguire held up his hands to get everyone’s attention. “You’ll all have to remain here for a little while. We’ll let you know when you can leave.”

“Óxi!” Yiayiá wailed from the kitchen doorway. No! She raised her hands to the heavens as though her worst fear had come true. Muttering to herself that the guests were going to starve, she returned to the kitchen.

“I’d better help her pack up the food,” Mama said and rose from her chair to bustle in after her, which meant we’d probably be eating chicken, rice, moussaka, pastitsio, and baklava for at least the next week.

I noticed two officers having a hushed conversation with Mandy’s bridesmaid, Tonya, then Gomez came over to our table and asked my shivering older sister, “Are you Selene Spencer?”

Selene took my hand again and squeezed it. “Yes.”

“Where do you work?”

“At Over the Top hair salon.”

“Are you missing a pair of hair scissors?”

She nodded, squeezing my hand tight enough to make it tingle.

“Do you know Brady Rogers?” he asked.

She gave another quick nod and squeezed so hard my pinkie started to go numb. Hello, nerve damage.

“You’ll have to come down to the station with us for some questioning.”

Selene gripped my hand so hard I winced and pulled it free. “I told you,” she whispered.

“Hold on,” I said to Gomez, flexing my tingling hand as I got to my feet. “Why can’t you talk to her here?”

Gomez stiffened his mouth into a hard line, refusing to answer, but I guessed what the answer was. Someone in the bridal party had informed the officers that the scissors may have belonged to Selene. I could see the three bridesmaids standing in the corner, watching Gomez talking to us. It was all happening too fast. Too coincidental. My intuition was telling me something was seriously off.

Gomez said again. “Selene Spencer, come with me, please.”

Selene made a sound like a kitten mewling. Maia put her arm around her shoulders, while I caught Maguire’s eye and m. . .