The Greek Who Stole Christmas Read Online Free PDF Page B

I’d seen on the roof – not that it added up to much. Small and fat. The curly hair could have been a wig. And although he had spoken, he hadn’t said enough for me to be sure whether he had an Albanian accent or not.
    As I’d sat in the bath that night, I’d gone over his words a dozen times.
No! I d-d-didn’t…
Had he been scared or did he always stammer like that? And what had he meant? The police had decided that he was angry – that he was telling me he hadn’t shot Minerva in the sense that he had missed. To me it seemed simpler than that. “I didn’t do it. It wasn’t me.” That was what he had been trying to say. But then why had he left the oak leaves behind? Maybe they were the symbol of the society for Overweight Albanian Kids. And finally, where was the gun? I thought I’d seen something in his hand but he hadn’t had it when I reached the roof.
    Anyway, the case was over as far as we were concerned. Now that the police knew Minerva was in real danger, they had taken over protection duties – and looking at some of those officers leering at her on Regent Street, I could see that plenty of them were going to be putting in for overtime. The good news was that we still had about seventy pounds of the two hundred Jake Hammill had given us. That would buy us a Christmas turkey, Brussels sprouts, roast potatoes and chestnut stuffing. It was just a shame that Tim had sold the oven.
    I found him at breakfast with a bowl of cornflakes and the morning newspaper. He wasn’t looking too pleased and I soon saw why. He’d made the front page. There was a picture of him spread out on his stomach just after he had accidentally turned on the Christmas lights.
    “Have you seen this?” he wailed as I sat down. “And look at this!”
    He tapped the caption underneath the picture:
DIM DIAMOND ASSAULTS MAYOR AND TURNS ON THE LIGHTS
    “It must be a misprint,” he said.
    “Are you sure?” I asked.
    Tim sighed – and suddenly he was looking sad. “You know, Nick,” he began. “Recently, I’ve been thinking.”
    “Did it hurt?” I muttered.
    He ignored me. “Maybe I should think about getting another job. I mean, look at me! I’m twenty-eight. I never have any money. I’m six months behind on the rent. I can’t remember the last time you and I had a square meal.”
    “We had pizza the night before last,” I reminded him.
    “That was circular. And whenever I do get a job – like this business with Miranda – it always seems to go wrong.” He sighed again. “She told me I was the most stupid person she’d ever met.”
    “Maybe she was joking.”
    “She spat at me and tried to strangle me!”
    “Well … she’s Greek.”
    Tim shook his head. “As soon as the New Year begins, I’m going to find myself a proper job,” he said. “It shouldn’t be too difficult. I’ve got qualifications.”
    I fell silent. I didn’t have the heart to remind him that he only had two A levels – and one of them was in embroidery.
    It looked as if we were going to have a pretty glum Christmas. But as you’ll probably know by now, nothing in our lives ever turns out quite how we expect. A second later there was a knock at the door and before either of us could react, Minerva walked in. I was so surprised, I almost fell off my chair. Tim was so surprised he actually did fall off his.
    She was on her own and she was trying to look inconspicuous dressed in jeans and a black jersey with a one-thousand-dollar pair of sunglasses hiding her eyes. But Minerva was Minerva. She couldn’t look inconspicuous if she covered herself in mud and sat in a swamp.
    “Minerva!” Tim gasped as he picked himself up.
    “I didn’t want to see you,” Minerva said, taking off her sunglasses so she could see him better. “I didn’t want to come here,” she went on. “But I had to. Last night I behaved like a cow.”
    “You ate grass?” Tim asked.
    “No. I behaved disgracefully towards you. I spat at you. I tried to strangle