Petros Markaris - Che Committed Suicide

‘Are you all right in the head? Are you comparing Koula to Katerina?’ I protested angrily.

‘I’m not comparing, but it saddens me. I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with books, education, doctorates and the like, but it wouldn’t hurt her to learn how to make a couple of dishes.’

‘She must know how to make something. How has she survived for so many years in Thessaloniki?’

‘I’ll tell you how. With boiled spaghetti bathed in ketchup, eggs and chips. Have you ever eaten chips made by your daughter?’

‘No.’

‘Good job for you. Usually they turn out like the balls on Christmas trees, because in her haste she throws them in the pan before the oil is sizzling.’

‘She still has time. She’ll learn once she finishes her doctorate.’

She shook her head as if not believing it. She took it personally that Katerina had no interest whatsoever in cooking.

Fortunately the sound of the telephone interrupted the unpleasant conversation. It was Ghikas.

‘Can you come over or are you busy?’ he asked me.

‘Come over where?’

‘To my office.’ He realised that I was dumbfounded and he went on: ‘Get into the lift and come straight on up. It doesn’t matter if Yanoutsos or your assistants or any of the others see you. I’ll explain.’

It was the first time since my having been wounded that I made the journey to Aristokleous Street – Security Headquarters – in the Mirafiori and I was filled with a sense of emotion. A huge poster at the junction of Soutsou Street and Alexandras Avenue informed me that if I were to buy the car advertised, I would get the air conditioning free. The car was just right for me and I gave it some thought till the lights turned to green and I turned left into Alexandras Avenue, but I knew that these were just thoughts fuelled by the heatwave. As soon as it had passed, I would abandon my mental adultery and return to my faithful Mirafiori.

When you’ve been going up to your Chief’s office for so many years, always finding Koula at her desk outside, you take objection to seeing a uniformed hulk sitting in her place. Even worse was the state of her desk. The pile of papers had covered the entire desktop, leaving only a small square space, about as big as a cake box, in front of the chair. In this square, the hulk had placed a car magazine and was licking his fingers and flicking through it.

I told him my name as a formality but he was absorbed in Datsun’s new model and paid no attention to me.

Ghikas had the air conditioning on full and I felt a shiver run through me as I entered. He lifted his gaze from the Police News that he was browsing through and looked at me.

‘Good to see you. Have a seat.’ He pointed to my usual chair that had been occupied by Yanoutsos during my last visit.

‘Do you want to start or shall I?’

‘Why, have you found out anything?’ he asked hopefully and his eyes shone.

‘Yes, though I don’t know whether it has any direct connection with Favieros’s suicide.’

I began with Favieros’s biography, continued with the offshore company and ended with the real-estate agencies and the scam that was going on. He listened carefully to me and when I had finished shook his head resignedly.

‘We’re going to have our hands full with this business, mark my words.’

‘Why do you say that?’

‘Because of what the papers are saying and that you’ve just partially confirmed. Everyone is afraid that there’s some scandal behind it all, but no one can come up with it. The government is panicking and is desperately trying to find a solution. This morning the Secretary General phoned me from the Ministry and asked me to recommend a trustworthy police officer to carry out an informal investigation in the hope of coming up with a lead.’

The pleasant sense of anticipation created in me following Ghikas’s phone call was slowly turning into a wonderful dream. I saw myself going back to my old office and Yanoutsos packing up his things and leaving for unknown destinations.

Ghikas picked up a piece of paper lying on his desk and handed it to me. ‘That’s Petroulakis’s mobile phone number. Do you know him?’

The name meant nothing to me. Ghikas understood and undertook to give me a profile of him. ‘Petroulakis is one of the Prime Minister’s advisers. More, he’s his right hand. Phone him and arrange to meet with him. The Secretary General is of the opinion that if the investigation is carried out off-duty, the reporters are less likely to find out about it. That’s why we came up with this plan. Officially, you’re still on sick leave and Petroulakis has no connection with the Ministry of Public Order. So we’re more or less safe.’

‘Does that mean that I’ll still be investigating under cover?’ I had been expecting a different turn of events and I felt deflated.

‘Yes, but now you are fully covered by me and you can call me and ask for my help at any time. Koula will continue to assist you. If you want another assistant, it won’t be so easy for me to find someone equally trustworthy, but I’ll do my best.’

‘Koula is fine for the time being. How much of what I’ve found out about Favieros shall I tell Petroulakis?’

‘Everything. If a scandal is about to break, as I’m very much afraid, it’s better for them to know what they’re getting into from the start. If anything else turns up later that you think you shouldn’t reveal to him, call me and we’ll discuss it.’

‘And am I to follow Petroulakis’s instructions?’

‘Come on now! What instructions can Petroulakis give you? What does he know about police business and investigations? If he gets smart with you, just say “yes” and then get on with it as you think best.’

There was nothing else I wanted to ask him and I got up to leave. As I was going towards the door, I heard him say: ‘And give my best to Koula.’

‘And I’ll tell her how much you miss her. I saw the state of her desk as I was coming in.’

‘Don’t tell her this, but it’s another reason why I want this matter cleared up as soon as possible.’

I imagined that this was the most generous compliment that Ghikas had ever made. Meanwhile, the hulk at the desk had proceeded from the Datsuns to the Hondas.

While in the lift, I suddenly got the urge to go down to the cafeteria for a coffee and croissant just as I did when I used to come to work. I was about to press the button but I thought twice about it and went straight down to the garage. If I was spotted, I would have to lie about why I was there and I preferred to avoid it.

At home, I found Adriani sitting in front of the TV. The scene with Stefanakos’s suicide had just faded from the screen.

‘You’re late and you’ve missed the special news bulletin,’ Adriani said.

‘What, not another suicide?’ I asked in alarm.

‘No, but those nationalists have claimed responsibility for the politician too.’

I didn’t have to ask what they had said, because I could imagine it word for word. They had claimed that they had forced Favieros to commit suicide because he was employing foreign workers, even more so Stefanakos, who wanted to introduce their languages into Greek schools. Nevertheless, I impatiently waited for the regular news bulletin. Even if all this was just claptrap and the Philip of Macedon organisation had its finger in someone else’s pie, it was quite likely that the announcement would confuse the situation even more and have us turning from scandals to terrorist activities.

In the meantime, I called Petroulakis on his mobile phone. ‘It’s better if we meet at my place rather than at the office,’ he said. ‘My address is 21 Dafnomili Street, in Lycabettus. Come along tomorrow at nine, but don’t be late because I have a meeting at ten.’