Petros Markaris - Che Committed Suicide

Sotiropoulos found me the following morning in the same place. Not that I had spent all night in the office; it was simply that it was no longer possible for me to work from the house and I had decided to return. I had said a prayer and then announced it to Adriani. She’d given me one of those icy looks of hers that she had been keeping in the freezer because of the summer.

‘Now you’re cancelling your sick leave, it’ll be our holidays next,’ was her only comment.

I almost told her to go and keep Mrs Ghikas company in Spetses, but I held my tongue, because it would have been at least a week before we were back on speaking terms. Then we’d have to go through the whole rigmarole of my having to wait for her to cook me my favourite stuffed tomatoes as a sign that she was ready to make up. Besides, I intended to keep my promise to her about the holidays.

‘It’s a good thing we didn’t leave. Ghikas had to cut his holidays short and come back. The Minister himself has taken a personal interest in the case so what can you do? When it’s all over, we’ll take off the day after, I promise.’

She didn’t reply, indicating that she had noted what I’d said though she wasn’t fully convinced. Anyhow, it softened her attitude.

My other problem was how to persuade Ghikas to let me have Koula till the end of the investigations. His face turned sour.

‘I don’t want her to get a taste for it because I won’t be able to keep her under control afterwards.’

‘Koula has been on the case from the beginning. She’s been keeping notes and she knows all the details. It’ll be even worse for you if I have to keep coming and disturbing her from her work every so often or if I’m obliged to keep asking her to come down.’

He saw that there was no other way and half uttered, ‘Okay’. My two assistants gawped when they heard that Koula was moving into their office for a time and that she would be assisting in the investigation. Dermitzakis was about to ask something, but I reminded him that I didn’t accept questions.

I don’t know how the press reporters found out that I was back, but they suddenly all burst into my office with Sotiropoulos at their head, as he was justifiably their leader. I had agreed with Ghikas to tell them that my sick leave was over and that I had returned to work. First we got the ‘welcome backs’ and the ‘thank yous’ over with.

‘You’ve become something of a legend,’ said one short brunette, who wore red tights in winter and a red skirt in summer.

I made a joke of it. ‘Don’t overdo it because it’ll go to my head and I’ll start seeing you by appointment one by one.’

‘Anyhow, you didn’t miss very much while you were away,’ said one conventional-looking young man with shiny hair and a crocodile printed on his T-shirt.

‘Apart from the Philip of Macedon business,’ added a well-coiffured blonde.

‘What happened in the end with those three?’ asked another woman. ‘I’ve been away on leave and I’ve missed a few episodes.’

‘From what I know, the file on them is being prepared and they are to be indicted for the murder of the two Kurds,’ I replied. I had no idea if that was the case, but I’d agreed with the Minister that this was what we would say.

‘And the suicides?’ asked the young man with the shiny hair.

‘Suicides are suicides and there’s nothing we can do about it.’

‘Inspector Yanoutsos thought differently.’

‘I don’t know what Inspector Yanoutsos thought. All I know is that when someone commits suicide, we can neither interrogate him nor arrest him. Consequently, the case closes automatically,’ I replied with some effrontery.

Fortunately, Sotiropoulos hastened to my rescue. ‘Come on now, let’s not bother the Inspector with nonsense on his first day back in the office,’ he said with the authority of a leader. ‘Whoever wants to know what Yanoutsos thinks can go and ask him.’

It appeared that the hint was taken, because all of them had heard in the meantime that Yanoutsos had been given his marching orders and there was the sound of ironic tittering. Then we once again went through the formalities of the ‘welcome backs’ and the ‘thank yous’ and they all left, apart from Sotiropoulos, who closed the door and came and stood in front of me.

‘Any news?’ he asked.

I didn’t want to tell him about the biography we’d found on Vakirtzis’s computer. After all, he was a journalist and I couldn’t keep subjecting him to temptation. Eventually, he’d succumb and I’d be left regretting it.

‘All we know with certainty is their common background.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘All three of them mixed in the same circles, were involved in the struggle against the Junta and spent time in the cells of the Military Police. This Logaras must know something from their past that he was using to blackmail them.’

He thought about it. ‘That makes sense. It also explains the biographies.’

‘How? Enlighten me,’ I said, curious.

‘He brought out the biographies afterwards in order to muddy the waters.’

I might have had the same thought, if I hadn’t known that Logaras had sent the biographies to his victims first. On the other hand, it would suit me if he were to come out with his version, because he, too, would be muddying the waters and that would be to my advantage.

‘We can’t exclude the possibility.’ He gave me a wily look, pleased with himself. ‘Could you see what you can find out?’ I said to him.

‘Find out about what?’

‘Something from their past.’

‘If it’s a long way in the past, it’ll be difficult. Maybe the files kept during the Junta would be of more help.’

‘They were burned in Keratsini, have you forgotten?’

He laughed. ‘Come on now, Haritos. The only things that got burned in Keratsini were storeroom inventories and newspapers!’

‘No matter how unbelievable it may seem to you, they were burned,’ I insisted.

He went on laughing. ‘Okay, then search among the ashes. I’m sure that not everything was burned,’ he added meaningfully. ‘Anyhow, I’ll do what I can.’

He left and I called Koula in. She was wearing jeans, a T-shirt, no make-up and her hair in a ponytail, just as on the first day she had come to my house. Ghikas’s model in uniform was still not back on duty.

‘What happened with the computer in Favieros’s office?’

‘Just as you expected. Zilch.’

‘Not even a copy of the biography?’

‘No.’

‘And the papers with the cassettes that we found at Vakirtzis’s home?’ She placed an envelope she had been holding under her arm in front of me. ‘Did you send the cassettes to be transcribed?’

‘This morning, all apart from one. The one from May 12th that we needed urgently. I had Spyros transcribe it last night. If he wants to join the Force, he can afford to show a little eagerness. You’ll find it in the envelope,’ she said with a coy smile.

‘Well done. What else is there?’

‘Spyros and I thought of going and taking a look at the computer in Favieros’s home in Porto Rafti.’

‘I don’t think you’ll find anything, but take a look so we don’t leave any stones unturned.’

Koula left and I sat comfortably to read the transcription of Vakirtzis’s programme. My first reaction after reading the first few pages was that if Vakirtzis had wanted to incite the toughs belonging to the Philip of Macedon organisation to kill Stefanakos, he couldn’t have done it in a better way. The entire programme consisted of Vakirtzis ranting and raving about Stefanakos’s proposals for the recognition of immigrant culture and for the introduction of their languages into the state schools.