Petros Markaris - Che Committed Suicide

What he told me left me speechless. ‘Do you keep files on everything?’ I asked him, thinking of Zissis.

‘No. I knew all about what happened during the period of the Junta. The rest I concluded from reading between the lines of what my guests said last night.’ He smiled as if recalling something. ‘Do you know what’s really funny? During the breaks, while they were all gossiping about Lilian Stathatos, the channel was broadcasting advertisements made by her company.’

‘So she still has the advertising company?’

‘Are you kidding? Everyone is dependent on Stathatos. She’s the one who decides what entertainment programmes the channel puts on the air. If there’s some programme or serial she doesn’t like, its adverts get cut.’

‘And what about the consultancy bureau?’

‘No idea. You’ll have to ask someone who works with Mediterranean Funding Programmes and the like. But compared to the advertising company, all that’s just peanuts.’

‘And what did Favieros have to do with all this?’

‘Do you expect me to do all your work for you?’ he said, taking another gulp at his whisky. ‘I’ve given you enough information to go on.’

‘At any rate, I don’t think Favieros went to Stathatos to advertise his construction company. I’ve never come across an advert for construction companies. As for his other business, most probably he wouldn’t want it advertised.’

Realising what I’d said I bit my tongue, but it was too late. Sotiropoulos cut straight to the chase.

‘You mean the real-estate agencies?’ He burst out laughing. ‘Horafas called me the moment you’d left his office to ask me if he was right to open up to you. I couldn’t understand why he was so worried.’

‘Because something doesn’t seem right to him, but he doesn’t know what it is.’

‘And what doesn’t seem right to him? Or are we about to start playing games again?’ he asked ironically.

We’d come too far for me to keep my cards to myself and I told him all that I’d found out about Favieros’s real-estate agencies. When I’d finished, he whistled in exclamation and then shook his head dejectedly.

‘You’ve no idea what you’re doing to me!’ he said. ‘A scoop like that and I have to keep it on ice because I’ve given you my word. Couldn’t I let slip something on the air? Just a few choice titbits?’

I ruled it out without discussion so he wouldn’t start trying to bargain with me. ‘Out of the question. We’ve already agreed. I’ll give you the whole exclusive story as soon as the case is closed.’

He suddenly turned to me with a worried look. ‘Does Ghikas know about all this?’

‘More or less.’

‘And who’s to guarantee that Ghikas won’t give the story to one of his own people first?’

‘He won’t’

He stared at me, holding his glass of whisky. ‘You must be walking around blindfolded. Where you are, in Security, every reporter has his own source. From your assistants to Yanoutsos and even higher. Do you think Ghikas, who’s got his sights set on making top dog, doesn’t have someone?’

‘That’s precisely why he won’t do it,’ I answered calmly. ‘Because he’s not crazy enough to reveal information from an unofficial source.’

My argument seemed to convince him because he emptied his glass. ‘Okay, I have to admit there’s some logic to that.’ Then he suddenly became aggressive again. ‘But if anything leaks out, I’m telling you I’ll put it all on the air.’

Outside, in the real air, only the wet curb indicated that it had been raining cats and dogs. Apart from that, the sky was crystal clear and the sun was shining. People were shut up in their offices and homes because of the rain and so I was in Aristokleous Street in less than fifteen minutes. But what was an advantage in terms of traffic was a disadvantage when it came to parking, because I couldn’t find a place anywhere and I circled the block for a good half an hour. After the umpteenth circle, I saw someone leaving and nipped into his space.

When I walked into the house, I heard the sound of the TV in the sitting room. I went in to say hello to Adriani but she wasn’t there. I found her ironing in the kitchen. She often did that: she did her chores listening to the TV in the background as a kind of radio substitute.

‘I’m surprised you’re not soaking wet,’ she said.

‘I was indoors and managed to avoid it.’

‘You were lucky. Some woman called for you.’

‘Who?’

‘I don’t know, she didn’t leave a name.’

‘Did you ask her?’

She put down the iron and looked at me with that high and mighty expression of hers that she always adopts when she’s about to make some caustic remark. ‘I thought that was why you brought Koula round here, to act as your secretary.’

‘I took her home so she wouldn’t get drenched in the rain.’

‘It’s a wonder you even thought of it. As for the woman who called, don’t worry yourself. If it’s serious, she’ll call back.’

I let her think she had reduced me to silence and I went into the sitting room to call Ghikas. I gave him a general update concerning my meeting with the Prime Minister’s adviser.

‘You handled it well,’ he said pleased. ‘Let him go on believing that you’re looking for evidence to incriminate the right-wing nationalists.’

Then I told him about the likelihood that Favieros was doing business with Stefanakos’s wife. There was a silence. When he spoke again, his voice sounded troubled.

‘If what you say turns out to be true, then I’m afraid we have the worst possible case scenario on our hands.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Murder, not by a pistol or knife, but by suicide. And how can you prove that and bring out into the open what’s hidden behind it?’

His argument was so solid that I hesitated momentarily. ‘Shall I go on investigating?’

‘Yes, perhaps we can prevent another suicide from happening.’

I hung up and racked my brains trying to decide where I would go from there. I had to find a discreet way of coming into contact with Lilian Stathatos, Stefanakos’s wife. I could simply pay her a visit, but if she didn’t have direct access to the Prime Minister, she would most certainly have access to his advisers and so it would get out that I wasn’t looking for evidence about the extreme rightists but about the relationship between her and Favieros.

Adriani was right, because the woman called back just as we were about to sit down for dinner. It was Coralia Yannelis.

‘Could we meet tomorrow, Inspector?’

‘Of course. At your office?’ I was trying to prevent her from suggesting that we met in my office at Security Headquarters given that it was temporarily occupied.

‘Do you mind coming to the Domitis offices? Mr Zamanis would like to be present.’

We arranged to meet at ten the following day. That phone call was the last thing I wanted. It could be something quite innocuous, on the other hand it could open up new wounds.

The sky was crystal clear, and the trees in Athens would have been smelling sweetly if there were any. This time, I myself was driving the Mirafiori and I was on my way to Domitis Construction. I had left Koula at home because I thought that Favieros’s heavy artillery executives might not be so ready to open up with her there. I had briefed her on what Sotiropoulos had told me the previous day and had asked her to investigate Stathatos’s companies to find me some evidence.

The fifty-year-old woman in reception recognised me immediately. She was still not wearing any make-up but was slightly more cheerful and had a hint of a smile.

‘They’re expecting you, Inspector. Just a moment while I inform them that you’re here.’