Grounds for Murder
By Philip J. Lees
Granny Melpomene had no teeth, but her wizened gums were hard enough to clack like castanets when she snapped them together in disapproval.
“Not there!” Clack, clack. “That’s where I sit. You sit over there.” She shooed Maria towards another, apparently identical chair on the other side of the small table. Maria brushed breadcrumbs and other unidentifiable debris from the straw seat and sat down, feeling the chair’s aged joints settling under the pressure of her plump backside and wondering for the hundredth time what she was doing here.
Granny Melpomene had turned back to the stove and was spooning coffee and sugar into the small copper briki, peering into the top and muttering to herself. Wisps of gray hair had escaped from her black and yellow head scarf and trailed on the collar of her dilapidated blue cardigan. After a minute, she turned around and carried the briki over to the table. Holding it by the tip of its long handle she carefully poured the coffee into a tiny, stained white cup that was sitting there on a small saucer, grunting with satisfaction as she saw the froth rise to the top. She fetched a smeared glass from the small cupboard by the sink and filled it with water from a plastic bottle, then placed it beside the cup before sitting down opposite Maria.
Maria looked at her shyly. Granny Melpomene’s face was like a reflection of the olive wood table top, all lines and whorls, with two bright eyes peeping out like polished knots. “Drink it,” she commanded. “Don’t wait.” Clack. “You must drink it while it’s hot.”
Maria lifted the cup and took an incautious sip, burning her tongue. She put the cup down and reached for the glass to cool her mouth with some water. Clack! Granny Melpomene gestured impatiently, so Maria picked up the cup and slurped some more, drawing in air to cool the coffee as she drank it.
When she had finished and only the grounds were left in the bottom, she replaced the cup on the saucer. Clack, clack! She picked it up again.
“You must swirl it around three times, then turn it upside down on the saucer.” Maria did as she was instructed, sucking her scalded tongue and trying not to let the grounds slop over on to the table top.
Granny Melpomene lifted the cup between two fingers, turned it upright and placed it on the table beside the saucer. Then she looked across the table at Maria.
“So, how long has he been cheating on you?”
Maria was startled. “Can you see that in the coffee grounds?”
Granny Melpomene cackled. “No, my girl. I can see it in your eyes.”
Maria felt her cheeks burn. Was it so obvious? “I don’t know exactly,” she said.
“Well, let’s see what the future has in store for you.” Granny Melpomene picked up the coffee cup again and scrutinized the patterns that were smeared around its inner circumference. “That’s it,” she said, pointing with a gnarled finger. “The unfaithful husband. You see?”
Maria nodded, though all she could see were congealed grains of coffee. It was hot in the cottage and she was starting to perspire. She reached up to loosen the collar of her dress.
“Pay attention!” Clack. “This is the other woman. She’s a neighbor, yes?”
“Yes. That is, I think so. I’m not sure.”
“Be sure.” Clack! “The coffee doesn’t lie.” Granny Melpomene turned the coffee cup this way and that, so that the light from the single window could illuminate all sides of it. “Hmm. I think there’s hope for you, though. But you must take your future in your own hands. Look.”
Maria looked into the cup, following the direction of the old woman’s finger. On one side, the grounds formed a bifurcated line, like a letter Y.
“You must make a decision,” Granny Melpomene said. “One way leads to happiness,” she traced one branch of the Y with her finger. “The other leads to disaster.”
“And how can I decide?” Maria didn’t know what to make of this at all.
Clack! “It’s your fate. You must make up your own mind. I’ll tell you one thing, though.” She indicated the remains of the froth that had dried around the rim of the cup. “Whatever you do, you’ll have money. Now pay me and go.” She replaced the cup on the saucer and sat back in her chair with an air of finality.
Maria fumbled in her purse, pulled out a thousand drachma note and put it on the table, but Granny Melpomene made no move to take it. Clack. Maria hurriedly pulled out two more notes and placed them beside the first. Only then did the old woman sweep the money up and stuff it into a pocket somewhere inside her baggy black dress.
“Thank you very much,” Maria said, feeling that something was required, although she was uncertain whether she had been helped or not.
“You’re welcome.” Granny Melpomene nodded. She remained seated while Maria stood up and went to let herself out. The door scraped on the stone threshold as she pulled it open and the sunlight flooded in and dazzled her. There was a clacking from within the room, so she hurried through, closed the door behind her, and fled.
She walked home slowly, lost in her thoughts. Her suspicions had been confirmed. She had been right to go for the reading—the old woman obviously knew her business. So Yannis really was having an affair, and with a neighbor. It must be Panayiota, as she had suspected. The slut! She had seen the way Panayiota looked at her husband the last time they met in the village square. Yannis had been atypically stiff and formal, but she could tell something was going on. A woman could always tell.
What was she to do now? Granny Melpomene had told her she must make a decision, take her fate in her own hands, but what were her choices? Should she confront Yannis? She didn’t dare. If she appealed to Panayiota the bitch would just laugh in her face, she was sure. There must be another way.
§
September, the first day back at school after the long break. All through summer the small schoolroom was stifling and even now the walls throbbed with the heat they had soaked up during the past three months. Despinis Margarita had thrown open the doors and windows at dawn and most of the mustiness had seeped out of the air by the time the children started to troop in. There were six classes, three along each wall, sitting on low benches arranged round borrowed tables, working at tasks set them by Despinis Margarita as she moved around in a rhythm of long experience. Maria was a quick learner. In her letters and sums she had moved well ahead of the others last year and now she had been promoted, skipping one class. Across from her was a quiet, skinny boy with big dark eyes. She sensed his interest and once she turned her head and caught him looking right at her. His eyes flickered away and a crooked grin spread across his face as he dipped his head to his schoolbook and continued writing with an uncertain hand.
***
Nikos was tired. He had spent the day threading electric wires through convoluted conduits in the walls of the new house his cousin was building at the top of the hill. Each time a wire reached a corner where it could get stuck, it did so, and Nikos would have to pull it gently back and try again until he could pass the obstacle. He was a patient man, but many times that day he had been brought to curses and the job had taken him three hours longer than expected. He couldn't charge for the extra time either, not when it was family.
Then Panayiota had complained when he was late for supper. What had got into that woman lately? She never had a good word for him, even while he was working himself to a shadow to bring in the money that paid for the new clothes she was always demanding. He was too exhausted to fight with her, so he had taken himself off to his workshop, telling her he had more work to do and wouldn't be back till late. There he sorted out some materials in the back room, coiling cable into neat rings, rearranging plugs and sockets, tidying his tools, anything rather than go home.
He had almost run out of things to do when he heard the street door open. Who was it at this hour? Surely Panayiota hadn't come looking for him to pick up where she left off? Please God, no.
"I'm coming," he called, but before he could go into the front room footsteps approached and someone was standing in the doorway. It was Maria, the butcher's wife.
"Good evening," he said, politely.
"Good evening." She seemed stiff, tense. She's probably not getting enough, he thought. A pity, because she's quite attractive: pretty face, nice rounded figure, just the way it should be--not like Panayiota, who wanted to look like the women in the fashion magazines and had starved herself until there was almost nothing left to get hold of.
"How are you?" What was she doing here, then?
"Fine." She didn't look fine, though. She looked thoroughly miserable. He waited for her to say something else, but she just stood there and stared at the ground.
"Can I do something for you?"
She started to speak, then stopped. She seemed to be having difficulty finding the words she wanted. Then she clenched her fists and looked at him for the first time.
"My husband," she said. "Your wife. They're having an affair."
At first Nikos' mind didn't want to comprehend. "What do you mean?" he said, dully.
"They're together. Now." Then her face seemed to collapse and suddenly she was weeping, her hands at her sides, her shoulders shaking, the tears streaming down her face.
***
Clean Monday, the start of Lent. The children were painting their kites. Only the boys got to fly them, which Maria thought was unfair, but Despinis Margarita made sure that everybody contributed to the decorations. Maria was tying bows of colored paper onto a long string that would make a tail. She had just turned thirteen and it was her last year at school. She was disappointed because she liked studying, but most girls her age were considered to have enough education and her mother wanted her to help out at home.
Somebody pressed something into her hand. A twisted bow of pink paper. She swiveled on her seat. It was Nikos. He was still skinny and his eyes were still huge and dark. His hair fell across his forehead.
"Take it," he muttered. "See it."
Maria untwisted the paper. In Nikos' clumsy letters she read, "I like you."
But when she looked up again his attention had shifted. There was a commotion across the schoolroom. Panayiota had draped a large sheet of colored paper around herself and was dancing to music only she could hear, feet tapping the concrete floor, hips swaying, red hair loose, body twirling. Panayiota wasn't interested in school any more and couldn't wait to leave. Panayiota already had breasts and she was interested in boys.
Nikos had turned away from Maria now and was watching the show. She felt her cheeks burning.
***
Maria was drowning in shame. She had meant to be strong, to show no feeling, but saying it out loud had wrenched the secret out of the privacy of her thoughts into the real world and now it was real she couldn't bear to look at it. She sobbed uncontrollably, her nose was running, she gulped for air through her open mouth.
Nikos was staring at her. Then he walked over to her and, before she realized what he was doing, he was wiping her nose with a soft tissue that he took from, then replaced in his pocket. She was touched by his kindness, but in another way it was one of the most intimate, erotic things she had ever experienced.
"Thank you," she said, clearing the tears from her eyes with her sleeve. She looked up at him. His face was expressionless, hard; something stern and proud lurked in the depths of his dark eyes. What have I done? a voice asked in her mind, but another, more scornful voice chided her that she had known all along what would happen. His filotimo, his sense of honor, could not allow this thing to pass.
"Sit down," he said, and led her to a chair. She sat gratefully, her legs were weak.
"Stay here," he said. "I won't be long." His voice was strangely gentle. He put his hand on her shoulder. "Will you wait for me?"
She nodded, still unable to speak. She stayed seated, only her eyes followed him as he turned and walked out through the door.
***
The news was all round the village: Nikos and Panayiota had run off and spent a night away, together. He had "stolen" her from her parents. Now they would have to get married. It was the way of things. At the betrothal feast Nikos never once looked in Maria's direction. That night she cried herself to sleep.
When her mother suggested she should marry Yannis, Maria made no objection.
"You're sixteen, it's time you were wed," her mother said. Yannis had no manners, but he was strong and he would inherit his father's butcher's shop. She could do worse.
Maria shrugged. She didn't care. Even after they were married and Yannis got drunk and beat her, she still didn't care.
***
Nikos went to his van and opened the double doors at the back. He felt calm and resolute; it was as if someone else was dictating his movements with a surety that brooked no disagreement. He pulled out the long bundle that lay down one side, closed the van doors again and set off for his house.
The living room light was on, and there was also a glimmer from the bedroom window on the upper floor. Under his own roof, by God! Before letting himself in, he unwrapped the shotgun and slid a couple of cartridges into the breech. He crept up the stairs, placing his feet carefully on the marble tiles. He paused at the top, listening to the moans and the creaking of bedsprings, then he grasped the shotgun firmly and flung open the bedroom door.
Yannis was on top, but he turned his head at the sound and rolled off Panayiota, trying to claw his way off the bed on to the floor. He got the first barrel, the crash of the weapon shockingly loud in the confines of the small room. Panayiota screamed and grabbed a sheet to cover herself. "Please, no," she whimpered.
"Have you no shame?" Nikos asked, then pulled the trigger again. Then he dropped the gun on the floor, stumbled down the stairs and walked to the police station to give himself up.
***
"I told you you'd have money," Granny Melpomene said. Maria nodded, thinking that the old woman looked exactly as she had six years before. It was true that she had money now. Once Yannis' drinking and gambling had ceased to be an expense, the butcher's shop had started to bring in a nice income and she had managed to save a sizable proportion of the profits. As a betrayed and bereaved wife she had attracted sympathy from the other women in the village. Her shop had become the center of gossip and sales had increased in consequence. She was enjoying her independence. Life was good, though she was beginning to find her widow's weeds tiresome to wear. Still, she could be patient; it wouldn't be too much longer before she could dress as she pleased.
Or so she hoped. Clack! Maria brought her mind back to the business at hand.
"I'm waiting for someone," she said. "I want to know if he'll be arriving soon."
Granny Melpomene cackled like an excited chicken. "I know who you're waiting for, my dear," she said. She grimaced as she peered into the coffee cup. "Well, you're in luck. The grains say it won't be long." Clack! She placed the cup firmly back on the table and looked at Maria expectantly.
Maria smiled as she pulled the money from her purse and she left the cottage with a spring in her step. Tomorrow was Friday, and she would go to visit Nikos in prison to give him the good news. For the first time, she would drive herself, in the new Fiat she had collected only yesterday. She had passed her driving test just a few weeks ago, so she would drive slowly and carefully; she wasn't in a hurry.
In a few months, Nikos would be considered for probation. The courts were lenient when it came to crimes of passion. She could tell him that the coffee grains said he would soon be a free man again. She had waited this long and she could wait a little more.
- End -
© Copyright Philip J. Lees 2004