Black Widow, White Lies

The summer heat clung to Kaisariani like a sweaty shirt. Myrto Zervou fanned herself with yesterday’s newspaper, perched on her balcony, watching the neighborhood’s slow pulse. Below, her son Aris sanded a wooden chair in their tiny workshop, his shirt damp with sweat.

A sudden commotion broke the stillness.

"Thief! Liar!" A woman’s shrill voice echoed from the square. Myrto’s ears pricked up. She shuffled inside, grabbed her cane, and marched downstairs with the determination of a general.

By the time she reached the square, a small crowd had gathered around Eleni, the baker’s wife, who was red-faced and shaking her fist at a pale, trembling man, Dimitris, the tailor.

"Poutana! You swore on the Bible!" Eleni spat.

Myrto stepped between them, her black dress cutting through the crowd like a shadow. "Pou pas, re? What’s this shouting?"

Eleni turned, eyes blazing. "This malákas lied in court! My nephew is in prison because of him!"

Dimitris wiped his brow. "I... I told the truth!"

Myrto’s sharp eyes narrowed. She knew Dimitris. A quiet man, bad at cards, worse at lying.

"Come," she said, gripping his arm. "We talk."

*    *    * *    *    *

Back in her apartment, Myrto poured two glasses of tsipouro. Dimitris gulped his down.

"Start talking," she ordered.

Dimitris hesitated, then cracked. "They paid me. Said if I testified that Nikos was at my shop that night, they’d clear my debts."

"Who?"

"The pallikari with the scar. Works for Sotiris."

Aris, who had been listening from the doorway, whistled. "The loan shark?"

Myrto’s lips pressed into a thin line. "O pseftis kai o kleftis, ena krevati tous kani. The liar and the thief share the same bed." She stood. "We fix this."

*    *    * *    *    *

That evening, Myrto and Aris went to the dimly lit kafenio where Sotiris held court. The burly loan shark sat surrounded by his men, including the scarred enforcer.

Myrto marched right up to him.

"Yia sou, Sotiri," she said sweetly. "You remember my late husband, yes? The one who owed you nothing when he died?"

Sotiris smirked. "What do you want, yiayá?"

"The truth. Or I tell the police where you buried Yiannis the Fisherman."

The room went silent. Sotiris’s smile vanished.

Aris tensed, ready for a fight. But Myrto just tapped her cane. "Ela, make your choice."

*    *    * *    *    *

The next morning, Dimitris recanted his testimony in court. Nikos was released.

As they left the courthouse, Eleni hugged Myrto, weeping. "Efharistó, kyria Zervou!"

Myrto patted her back. "I alitheia vgainei panta sto fos," she said. "The truth always comes to light."

Aris chuckled as they walked away. "You’re terrifying, Mamá."

She smirked. "Kai ego eimai i mana sou. And I’m your mother."

The sun blazed over Athens, and Myrto adjusted her black scarf, ready for the next storm.

THE END