The Green Lady Read Online Free PDF

were on everything from hoardings to badges.
    â€˜Participation, brotherhood, equality, cooperation, fair play and the eternal Greek value of human scale,’ the Fat Man scoffed. ‘Whatever that means.’
    â€˜I told you to stop memorising the Olympic advertisements. You’ll damage your brain.’
    â€˜As if anything’s equal in this country, as if there’s ever been a sense of fair play. The rich steal from the poor and feed them pap like this to shut them up.’ Yiorgos caught sight of the envelope Mavros was holding. ‘What’s that?’
    â€˜Er, nothing.’
    â€˜Show me or I’ll eat all the
baklava
.’
    â€˜That’ll make a change.’ Mavros tossed the envelope on to the coffee table.
    The Fat Man ran a practised thumb over the edges of the fifty euro notes. ‘Three thousand? What did you do? Rob an Olympic gift shop? If so, eternal glory is yours, comrade.’
    Mavros went into the kitchen to get a drink of water. That didn’t save him from further interrogation.
    â€˜You’ve got a job, haven’t you? From a rich lady with more money than sense.’
    â€˜You always say the rich are cunning and devious. Take what you need.’
    â€˜A couple of hundred will do.’ Yiorgos appeared at the kitchen door. ‘Come on, then. Tell me all about it.’ His enthusiasm was like a puppy’s chasing a ball.
    â€˜I can’t. It’s confidential.’
    â€˜Your cases are always confidential,’ the Fat Man jeered, ‘and you’ve told me about them all.’
    â€˜Only when they’re over.’ Mavros headed upstairs.
    â€˜So that’s how it’s going to be, is it?’ Yiorgos yelled. ‘I put you up for free, I feed you and wash your clothes and what do you give me? A big nothing.’
    â€˜Oh, for fuck’s sake. Let me do some work on this and I’ll let you in on it, all right? And since when did you wash my clothes? If I didn’t use your mother’s washing machine, it would be a spider colony.’
    That silenced his friend, who went back to abusing the TV. Mavros had a shower and sat at the table that served as his desk, wearing only a pair of boxers. He opened his laptop and waited for it to boot up. Before it was ready, his mobile rang.
    â€˜Good morning, dear.’ His mother’s voice was slightly unsteady, as it had been since her stroke. Although her Greek was fluent, she always spoke English to her children.
    â€˜Hello, Mother. How are you?’
    â€˜I’m all right, Alex.’ There was a pause.
    â€˜Are you sure?’
    â€˜Yes, yes,’ she replied, with a touch of her old impatience. ‘It’s just this useless body of mine. I’d like to go and sit in the shade in Dhexameni Square, but Fotini says it’s too hot.’
    â€˜She’s right,’ Mavros said, loath to agree with the nurse. ‘I’ve been out and came back drenched in sweat.’
    â€˜Lovely,’ Dorothy Cochrane-Mavrou, said with a light laugh. ‘I wish you’d move back here. At least I have air-conditioning.’
    â€˜I’ll come over in a day or two. I’m quite busy, actually.’
    â€˜Good for you.’ His mother’s work ethic was still strong. ‘I’m editing those unpublished poems of Laskaris.’
    Mavros remembered the old communist poet. He’d been part of a case that had nearly cost Mavros and his entire family their lives. ‘Any good?’
    â€˜Yes. They’re mainly love poems to other men, with little or no ideological content. He obviously didn’t feel he could publish them when he was alive.’
    Mavros suddenly remembered what his client had said. ‘Oh, by the way, what do you know about Angela Poulou?’
    â€˜By what way?’ Dorothy said. ‘How has she come under your purview?’
    He laughed at the archaic vocabulary, but he was impressed by his mother’s