An irregular, irreverent, post-modern account of the surreal, the ordinary, and the bizarre happenings on and around the Felia lavender farm in Crete

Friday, October 14, 2005

Cop story

The big red Citroen joined the Rethymnon carriageway from a small turn on the right and proceeded at its own pace. The stately, plump, DS sailed along in the inside lane until just before the Episkopi turnoff where it indicated left and turned abruptly into the car park of a beach front taverna.

The occupants could have been Alain Delon and Brigitte Bardot. Both wore dark glasses. Both were strikingly attractive. The driver manouvered the Citroen through a knot of badly parked cars and nudged it in alongside a large blue and white four wheel drive boldly stencilled with the single word "POLICE".

No one got out of the car. The windows - were they smoked or was that just a film of dust? Someone peered anxiously from the bar over to the freshly parked car that was now exactly parallel to the police car. And then, just as the hydro-pneumatic suspension began to nestle down the driver's door opened and a tall man in a black hat emerged. He wore dark glasses and moved elegantly around the rear of the Citroen to the passenger door, picking his way meticulously around a puddle or two that lay there still from the previous day's rain storm. He opened the passenger door and a woman stepped out. Dark glasses and a large brown hat topped a strikingly red, tightly tailored dress. Shorter than the man, but equally upright and poised, she demounted the big limousine in complete control of herself.

His right arm wrapped around her shoulder and suddenly they were closing on the bar. The two policemen, who had watched their entrance entranced, instinctively checked their holsters. Black pistols, matt and snub, peered out from the safety of the tight black leather harnesses. The blonde policeman looked quickly over the tops of his sunglasses at the couple as they closed on him and his colleague. Better safe than sorry was this blue eyed Sfakian man's motto.

His rotund partner swallowed a mouthful of bitter frappe and briefly checked his cigarette in the ashtray. Their eyes met and the slightest of nods passed between them. The couple moved past them in a trice looking sideways and signalling momentarily to the waitress who greeted them with a "Hello" in English. The man nodded his assent to an unasked question and the couple settled themselves into a front row table where they could look out over the white sand into the cerulean bay. The brilliant sunshine dappled their table with a gentle light. There were only a handful of late, desperate, sun worshippers on the beach on this bright October day.

Moments later, the selfsame waitress brought two frappes and two glasses of water to the table. The man had already lit an Assos and seeing this she brought them a clean ashtray. A nod of thank you and they were left in peace.

The policemen drank their frappes and left. The red Citroen was left in her solitary beauty - dominating the car park. The policemen glanced inside as they left.

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