The Priest's Gamble: A Novel

By Peter Costa

God doesnt play dice with the universe but sometimes a member of the universe tries to play dice with God. Thats what the Rev. Constantine Thalassa does with his addiction to gambling. The priest spends all his discretionary money on the lottery. His son, a math prodigy, is aiding and abetting the Greek Orthodox priests addiction by writing an algorithm that greatly reduces the randomness of selecting winning lottery numbers.

And as if the priest doesnt have enough temptations, he is being stalked by a voluptuous young widow who thinks the way to get close to God is to get close to the priest.

The Priests Gamble is filed with compromising positions, raucous comedy and imaginative action. The writing is lively and vivid, making The Priests Gamble a fun read.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jul 24, 2012
• ISBN: 9781477143209

Book preview

THE PRIEST’S GAMBLE

A Novel

PETER COSTA

Copyright © 2012 by Peter Costa.

Library of Congress Control Number:       2012912662

ISBN:         Hardcover                               978-1-4771-4319-3

                   Softcover                                 978-1-4771-4318-6

                   Ebook                                      978-1-4771-4320-9

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

To order additional copies of this book, contact:

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Contents

Chapter 1 The Blessing

Chapter 2 The Prodigy

Chapter 3 The Furies

Chapter 4 The Crime

Chapter 5 The Prom

Chapter 6 The Source

Chapter 7 Radio

Chapter 8 The Stake

Chapter 9 Proper Women

Chapter 10 The Brass

Chapter 11 The Feds

Chapter 12 The Reckoning

Chapter 13 Shopping Trip

Chapter 14 The Offer

Chapter 15 Playing the Game

Chapter 16 Resolution

Chapter 17 Payout

Chapter 18 The Aftermath

Chapter 19 The Payout

Chapter 20 Forbidden fruit

Chapter 21The Kidnapping

About The Author

For Sara and Lucy

By all means marry; if you get a good wife, you’ll be happy. If you get a bad one, you’ll become a philosopher. – Socrates.

Chapter 1

The Blessing

H ad the Rev. Constan-

tine Thalassa not been a Greek Orthodox priest, he would have been a Doric column holding up a frieze on the Parthenon. Strong and simple, with impossibly perfect flutes, the columns stood ready to soar skyward, rockets of the gods.

Thalassa was slender and tall, with a manly brown-black beard, but he wasn’t column material. The only thing Thalassa could carry effortlessly was the after-church teacup provided by the good ladies of the Philoptochos Society.

But he had dreams. He wanted to be the brave Achilles on the plains of Troy or the resourceful Odysseus, sailing home across angry seas.

He lived in an interior world of imagined superheroes and beneficent gods. But, in reality, the closest he ever got to real fire and destruction were the angry flames emitted by his dragon-lady wife, Kiki.

Perhaps that is why the randomness of gambling appealed to him so much. Here he was a man stuck in a culture and routine that hadn’t changed since the passing of the Nicene Creed. Everything in the liturgy he sang each Sunday was immutable and unchanging. Every saint’s day occurred with calendrical regularity.

The more enmeshed Thalassa became in the ecclesiastical world, the more he was drawn into the vortex of chance and gambling.

But he was blissfully oblivious to his plight as he stood outside Theoni’s house and waited in the wind. He pressed the doorbell. He soon heard footsteps and some scurrying behind the door. He adjusted his black topcoat and shifted the holy water and sprigs of dried laurel from his left hand to his right. He had already blessed four houses today and this was to be his last. He looked forward to going home, sitting by the fire with a hot cup of tea sweetened with honey, and reading Herodotus. Thalassa was a bookish man, a minor scholar when he was a student at the Greek Orthodox seminary, and a person who delighted in the word – the Word of God as revealed in the Gospels, the word of man as told in the classics. Sometimes he wished he lived in the ancient world and not the contemporary one of strivings and strife, weaknesses and excesses.

What was taking Theoni so long? He could hear her high heel shoes clicking back and forth, back and forth. Why won’t she open the door? Inside, the young widow was spraying perfume in the hall and primping one last time in front of the hall mirror. She was radiant and excited that the priest was visiting her house, finally. She was pleased that she had arranged the priest’s visit as the last one of his afternoon. With no time constraints, she would be able to unburden herself completely to him. She had chosen a form-fitting cardigan sweater with a matching skirt, not too short, but short enough to be alluring, she thought. She was thrilled with the mere idea of having such a righteous man in her house and with the challenge of getting him to notice her as a vibrant woman with physical as well as spiritual needs. She needed to move slowly so as not to frighten the priest as she had at last year’s Greek picnic when she had leaned against him for a moment to whisper how she needed his blessing. He had blushed and stepped back so quickly he nearly stumbled right in front of the baklava booth where three old crones were giving the beautiful widow the evil eye. Today, her goal was merely to talk with him. She just wanted to talk long enough to persuade him that her house was a haven, that she was safe, that he could always come here and find softness. She did not know why she was so obsessed with the priest. Many men from the church constantly sought her attention. They asked her out on dates and tried to walk her home after choir practice. They even telephoned her at work. But these were mere men and she was not interested in them.

With a flick of her dark hair, she opened the door and spun into the priest’s view like a 1950s movie starlet whirling onto center stage.

Oh, Patera, I hope I have not kept you waiting too long in the cold. Come in, please, she said in her deepest voice.

Well, no, Theoni, not that long. But at first I thought you might not be in.

Oh, no, Father, I have been preparing all day for the blessing. Let me take your coat,

The priest put the holy water and laurel down on a table in the hall and removed his black coat. Its shoulders were lightly dusted with snow. He noticed that the dark wood furniture seemed to glow with furniture polish and the hardwood floors were buffed and shining. The moisture from his shoes beaded up in small droplets on the beeswax-covered floor.

Father, before you start blessing the house, could we sit for a moment? I would like to get your advice on some spiritual matters.

Well, certainly, but I do have to be getting home. Kiki will be holding supper for me.

But it is only 4 o’clock. Surely, we have a little time?

Yes, we do. What counsel do you require? he said in his best, and most serious, pastoral manner. He was beginning to feel uneasy alone with this woman. Other women, but especially his wife, were very suspicious of the widow, who they thought was too young and too voluptuous not to be considered a threat to all the women of the congregation. Just yesterday, Thalassa’s wife had warned him: Don’t stay talking too long with that Theoni Gravas. People will start to gossip. There is something not right with her in the head. Yes, she lost her husband when his brain exploded with that, what did they call it, that vessel that broke? Oh yes, aneurysm. But still, I think there is something wrong in her head too. She stares out at nothing even when people are talking to her. And I don’t like the way she waits to be the last in line so she can talk to you. Remember, you have to be above even the slightest temptation. You are a priest. And if you want to get a bigger church some day, you will have to win the praise from the bishop. Even though he is my cousin, he is a very strict man. He believes you have great potential, if you would stop wasting your time reading those books and spend more time getting known for your ministry.

Thalassa thought of these words when the widow sat down across from him on a sofa and slowly crossed one thigh over the other. On a glass coffee table were two demitasse cups, sugar and jellied sweets. The widow had prepared a small, traditional holiday offering.

Greek coffee, father?

Only, if you have brewed some already. I don’t want to be a bother.

Yes. The coffee is simmering now. I will just go in and get it, she said and rose quickly from the sofa. As she walked from the room, a chill fell over Thalassa. He did not know whether it was from