Petros Markaris - Deadline in Athens

I said this expressly to provoke him, because I knew that he had a high regard for her.

"Has he confessed?" he said, as if unwilling to believe it.

"Yes. Confessed. Crime of passion. No child involved."

"Right. Send me your report. And a summary too, so I can make a statement." He put down the phone without even a word of thanks. Now I was going to have to write him a report that a schoolboy could understand so that he could learn it by heart.

Normally, the case would have closed there. The Albanian had made his confession and would be sent for trial, the stuff about the child had proved to be a fabrication, the chief of security would stand before the reporters and come out with his spiel-we'd wrapped it up. But I had a broomstick up my backside. I couldn't let things rest, and I always ended up paying for it.

"Listen, Thanassis, did he say anything about a child?"

"Child?" he said and became all confused. Thanassis's kind are like that. When you're least expecting it, they come up with a bright idea and arrive at something that, by their standards, is nothing short of a miracle. But as soon as you burden them with something else, something unexpected, they overload, blow a fuse, and the lights go out on them.

I looked at my watch. It was only nine-thirty. I had two hours before the reporters showed up.

It was more than enough time for me to write the report for Ghikas.

"Have them bring the Albanian for questioning."

He looked at me, and all the satisfaction drained out of him. "But he's confessed," he muttered.

"I know, but that Karayoryi woman put a damper on it last night on the news, by saying that there was a child involved. Ghikas heard it, and now he's on to me about it. I know there's nothing in it, but I want to be 100 percent sure that everything's in order. Have him brought to me, and you come along too." I would take him with me to show my appreciation, and he liked it. He left the office smiling from ear to ear.

The Albanian was sitting in the same place, but he wasn't handcuffed as on the previous day. When we walked in, he looked at us apprehensively. I offered him a cigarette.

"I say you everything," he said to me as he drew on the cigarette. "He come and I say all." He pointed to Thanassis.

"I know. Don't be alarmed. Everything's okay. I just want to ask you one question out of curiosity. Do you know whether the couple you murdered had any kids?"

"Keeds?"

He looked at me as though it were the most unlikely thing in the world for an Albanian couple to have kids. He didn't answer, but his gaze turned slowly toward Thanassis. Thanassis suddenly reached for him, took him by the anorak, and dragged him to his feet, screaming: "Out with it, you bastard! Did the Albanians have a child? Out with it, or you're dead meat!"

It's the quiet ones you have to watch when they're riled, as my old mother used to say. He'd succeeded in getting a confession; now his blood was up and he was playing the tough guy. I freed the Albanian from his grip and sat him down again on the chair.

"Gently does it, Thanassis. If he knows anything, he'll tell us without any rough stuff. Isn't that so?"

This last phrase was addressed to the Albanian. He was shaking from head to toe; why, I had no idea. It was just a simple question. He had nothing to be afraid of. Thanassis had just butted in and scared him with his excessive zeal.

"No," he said. "Pakize have no keeds."

Pakize was the name of the woman he'd murdered. "Okay, that was all," I said, friendly at last. "I won't need you for anything else."

He gazed at me in relief, as if a burden had been taken from him.

I returned to my office and sat down to write the schoolboy report for Ghikas. He didn't want much. A single page in my own handwriting, with my big, round letters. Just the facts, in precis. He could add the garnishing himself. I soon finished it and turned to the analytical report. This took me a bit longer, but I had finished inside an hour. I had them both sent to Ghikas.

I decided to have the rest of my croissant and drink my coffee, which was now stone cold. A cat was sunning itself on the balcony opposite. It was sprawled out with its head on the tiles that were baking in the sun. It was one of the few creatures to delight in the ovenlike heat. The old woman came onto the balcony with a saucer. She put it down in front of the cat. She waited for it to open its eyes and see the food, but the cat showed complete indifference. The old woman waited patiently, stroking its head, talking to it, sweet talk most probably, but the cat couldn't have cared less. In the end, she gave up, left the saucer, and went back into the room. I reflected on the cat's arrogance, how it had its food brought to its feet, and I re membered the two Albanians lying on the bare mattress, the folding table, the two plastic chairs, the gas stove. Not that I'm especially partial to Albanians, but it got to me. So did the lousy weather, which gave no prospect of rain.

The door suddenly opened and in waltzed Karayoryi. Without even knocking, as if it were her own office. I should have given her a key. She was different. She was wearing jeans and a T-shirt. She had her cardigan on top of her bag, which was hanging across her shoulder. She closed the door and smiled at me. I looked at her without saying a word. I wanted to give her a mouthful, but we were under orders from the fifth floor to give reporters the kid-glove treatment. It wasn't always this way.

"Congratulations. I hear that the Albanian confessed. You've closed the case" Her smile was ironic, her expression haughty.

I was in no mood for playing cat and mouse. "Why did you lie in your television report last night?" I said. "You knew very well that there was no child, nor do we suspect anything of the sort."

She smiled. "Never mind," she replied indifferently. "All you have to do is deny it."

"Why did you come out with all that yesterday?"

"All what?"

"About the child. What was on your mind? Or were you just fishing?"

"I told you because I like you," she said, unexpectably amiable. "I know you can't stand me, but I don't care, I like you anyway. I have my weaknesses, you see."

The way she said it, straight out, she perplexed me. "I neither like you nor dislike you," I said, hoping that a neutral approach would seem more convincing. "You get on my nerves, and I get on yours, it's part of the job. But I don't dislike you any more than the rest of your colleagues."

"I'm sure you do," she said, still smiling. "With the exception, perhaps, of Sotiropoulos."

The bitch was razor sharp; nothing escaped her. "And why do you like me?" I said, to get out of a difficult position.

"Because you're the only one with an ounce of brains around here. Though don't go puffing yourself up too much on that account. Just that one eye's better than none. But you're way off the mark this time."

She made for the door and was gone before I could continue the discussion.

Once again I had to wonder: Was she playing with me or was she keeping something from me? If she came out with something afterward, I'd be the one they'd all come down on. Prosecutor, judge, police chief, all of them. There'd be no end to it. And it wasn't as if I had a lot of time on my side-I didn't. Ghikas would be making his statement before long. The file would be sent to the prosecutor the next day, and it wouldn't take him more than a couple of days to arrange for the court hearing. From then on, the case would be completely out of my hands, and if anything were to explode, at that point there'd be no picking up the pieces.

I picked up the telephone and told Sotiris, the lieutenant, to come into my office.

"Listen, Sotiris, when we were searching the Albanians' place, did you notice anything that might indicate the presence of children?"