Che Committed Suicide (33 page)

‘Mr Petroulakis, the Prime Minister’s adviser, asked me personally for certain information. The Inspector visited him and told him what we knew.’

What he couldn’t tell him was that we both had something to gain from talking to Petroulakis: Ghikas because he was looking to his promotion and I because I was fighting for my job.

‘And why didn’t you tell me all this?’

‘Because we didn’t have any tangible evidence whatsoever,’ Ghikas replied immediately, obviously having anticipated the
question
. ‘First of all, these were not murders but suicides, therefore, officially speaking, we couldn’t carry out any investigation. And what emerged from the Inspector’s investigations naturally gave rise to certain questions, but without any evidence. It was only after Vakirtzis’s suicide and after Logaras had sent the biography to the Inspector that we had grounds for suspecting that this was
instigation
to commit suicide.’

‘And because you had no tangible evidence, you preferred to talk to an ignoramus, who immediately tried to hush the matter up in the most puerile of ways.’

The comment was warranted and we kept our mouths shut. He took it as a silent admission of our guilt and sugared the pill for us.

‘I wouldn’t want you to think I’m trying to ascribe blame for the handling of the case, I’m aware that everything happened behind your back,’ he said to Ghikas. ‘The truth is that we’re stuck with a very unpleasant business, whereas we could have done what every good politician in Greece does: we could simply have ignored it. Now we don’t know how to get ourselves out of it.’ He again looked at Ghikas. ‘Do you have any ideas?’

‘Yes. We won’t release the three extremists just yet. We’ll announce that we’re still questioning them concerning the murder of the two Kurds. In the meantime, we’ll let it leak that the successive suicides have given grounds for suspicion and that we are investigating the reasons behind them. As for the latter, we won’t escape some ironic comments from the press, but at least no one will be able to accuse us of holding the three youths as scapegoats.’

The Minister reflected for a moment. ‘All right. That’s how we’ll proceed. We don’t have any options.’ He reflected a little more and then turned to me. ‘Do you think we’ll have more suicides, Inspector?’

‘I wish I knew, Minister. Perhaps Vakirtzis’s was the last, perhaps not. Unfortunately, we don’t know why they’re committing suicide and we don’t know who Logaras is, because evidently he’s the one who’s pulling the strings.’

‘The idea that there may be more terrifies me.’

‘Me too. But there is one ray of light after yesterday.’

Ghikas and the Minister both turned and stared at me in surprise. ‘And what’s that?’ asked the Minister.

‘The biography that Logaras sent me. He sent it because he wanted to open a channel of communication with me. And I believe he’ll continue.’

‘Why did he do that?’ asked Ghikas.

I shrugged. ‘Perhaps because he thinks he’s smart and he wants to play with me. Then again, perhaps he’s getting ready to reveal why he forced them into suicide. The one sure thing is that he knows that I’m the one dealing with the suicides. And for him to know that means that he must be one of the circle of people I’ve questioned.’

Just as I said it, the thought flashed through my mind that Logaras may have found out from Sotiropoulos. I had told Sotiropoulos almost all the details of my investigations. It wasn’t unthinkable that he had discussed it with a colleague and that it had leaked out that way. I didn’t dare reveal to the Minister and to Ghikas that I had had dealings with Sotiropoulos and let him in on my investigations. The former would have given me a dressing down and the latter would have thought I’d lost my wits during my sick leave because he knew how I detested reporters of all kinds.

It wasn’t often that Ghikas did me the honour of giving me a lift in his limousine, but that day he made an exception. Perhaps because that case was an exception to the rule. When you’re dealing with the murders of locals and foreigners, underground bosses and Russian Mafiosi, the patrol car is more than enough. But when you’re moving in the big league where business tycoons, politicians and hotshot journalists commit suicide, you acquire a different air and find yourself now and again stepping into a limousine.

As we entered Ghikas’s outer office, I saw the policeman quickly hiding a magazine in one of Koula’s drawers. It seemed that Ghikas had taught him well in the meantime, because he made sure he turned his head in good time to the wall.

‘Are you thinking of cutting short your sick leave and coming back?’ he said, once we were sitting in our usual seats.

I had already thought of it, and this time it wasn’t Adriani who was holding me back. ‘I’d prefer to carry on with the investigation in a discreet way and with Koula’s help. If I start investigating
officially
, the reporters will be all over us and the suicides will turn into murders. I’m afraid we might run up against the families of the three men. They’re big names and they could put a spoke in our wheels whenever they wanted.’

‘So at long last you’re starting to take those with clout into
consideration
. In future, I’ll be able to sleep more peacefully,’ he
commented
, breaking into an ironic smile.

‘It’s a case that needs careful handling.’

He reflected for a moment and then sighed. ‘You’re right, though it would suit me to have you return to the office.’

‘Why? Because of Yanoutsos?’

‘No. Because of Koula. I need her back to put some order in here.’

‘Why, isn’t the officer outside any good to you?’ I asked
innocently
, though I knew what his reply would be.

‘Me, no. But I might send him to my wife so they can exchange magazines. When she goes to the hairdresser’s, she takes a pile of them with her.’

We both burst out laughing at the same time, as though we had been waiting for an opportunity to find a moment’s relief from the stress.

‘What are you going to do about Yanoutsos?’

‘I’ll send him back to where he came from and I’ll personally take charge of Homicide till you’re ready to return.’

I left after promising to give him regular updates. I was about to press the button to go down to the basement when I had a sudden change of mind and pressed the button for the third floor. I walked down the corridor and burst into the office where Vlassopoulos and Dermitzakis, my two assistants – former assistants till just previously – were sitting. Obviously, they had written me off for good because they stared at me as if seeing a ghost. After a moment of
embarrassing
silence, they leapt to their feet.

‘Inspector!’ they blurted out in unison.

Because I still owed them for their conduct at the home of the two Kurds, I dispensed with the greetings and formalities.

‘I’m here to tell you that my leave is over in two weeks’ time. If you need me in the meantime, you can call me at home. I’ll be in Athens.’

‘You mean … you’re coming back?’ asked Dermitzakis timidly.

‘Why wouldn’t I be coming back, Dermitzakis? Have you heard mention of a disability pension?’

‘No, no, Inspector. It’s just that …’

‘Just what?’

‘Just that we’d lost all hope of you coming back, Inspector,’ said Vlassopoulos, who was always more forward because he’d been with me longer. ‘We’re the ones who’ve been contemplating retirement with that idiot over our heads.’ And he pointed to the door of my office. ‘Anyway. I don’t want to get started. Even the walls in this place have ears, as my old mum always says.’

They wanted to buy me a coffee for changing the terms of their retirement plan, but I used the excuse that I had jobs to do and that I was in a hurry. I had no wish to bump into Yanoutsos. I wasn’t out for revenge and seeing him with his tail between his legs would have ruined my good mood.

‘If I need your help before I’m back officially, I’ll let you know, but you’ll do what I want without asking for details,’ I told them.

They stared at me without having understood a word, but such was their delight that I was returning that they didn’t even try to fathom it out.

‘Anything you want, Inspector.’

I told them to arrange for a patrol car to take me home. I had no intention of roasting in the midday heat. In less than three minutes, the car was at the entrance waiting for me.

As we said, the situation only improves as it worsens.

The offices of Starad were in Vikela Street, opposite the Hygeia Clinic. Mrs Stathatos must have spent a small fortune on decorating her advertising company. As soon as you walked in, your feet sank into a thick carpet that deadened the sound of your footsteps. You sat down and the armchairs wrapped themselves around you lest you had any thoughts of getting up and leaving them. The
paintings
on the walls in their white frames depicted straight lines, cubes and circles in a variety of colours, but always with a dash of red as a trimming.

Stathatos’s office was different from the others because she had two expensive rugs on top of the carpet and on the wall behind her, where in our offices we usually put a picture of Christ wearing a crown of thorns, she had a painting of a tiny harbour, with fishing boats and a woman with a door opening in her back.

Stathatos was a well-preserved woman in her fifties, who, with make-up, would have looked much younger. That day, she was without make-up, wearing a dark blue outfit with some discreet white additions round the collar and she looked at me with a
somewhat
haughty expression that she had no doubt inherited from her father. Sitting at the side of Stathatos’s desk was Sotiria
Markakis-Favieros
. She, too, was without make-up, and wrinkled as she was and with short-cropped hair, it made her sex and age difficult to tell. When I had visited their home in Porto Rafti after Favieros’s suicide, I had been told that his family had gone away on their yacht. She must have shut herself up in the cabin all day because she was as white as white. She was sitting with her ankles glued together and was looking at us with a suspicious and frightened expression. When you saw them side by side, you understood from the first which of the two ran the business and which was there as a stand-in for her husband.

They had banished Koula and myself to the couch with its glass coffee table in front, at a distance of some ten yards from Stathatos’s desk. Koula was the one who had her work cut out for her as she tried to take notes with her notepad balanced on her knees. She had returned that morning from holidays in Aigina, suntanned and wearing linen slacks and sandals. And because she was smart and knew which way the wind blew in our house, she didn’t come to me to express her delight that we were starting the investigation again but went straight to Adriani to express her sorrow. ‘I’m so sorry you had to postpone your holidays, Mrs Haritos!’ Then she looked up to heaven and added: ‘Heaven forbid that I should marry a police officer.’ And instead of telling her that police officers are honest and sincere and, on the whole, good family men, Adriani stoically shook her head and replied: ‘Unfortunately, Koula dear, heaven has its own way of working!’

We were sitting facing the two women and trying to discover whether there was anything strange in the behaviour or actions of their husbands prior to their suicides, particularly with regard to Stefanakos, as we already had plenty of information on Favieros. The portents, however, were not good because the two widows were tight-lipped and made no attempt to hide their displeasure.

‘Why are you digging, Inspector?’ asked Stathatos. ‘Our husbands chose to kill themselves. Will your investigations bring them back?’

‘No, but we may be able to prevent others. That’s why we’re asking for your help. Up until now, we’ve had three suicides that all conform to the same model. Doesn’t that seem suspicious to you?’

‘The police may find it suspicious,’ she replied almost with
contempt
. ‘But as there’s no murder, I don’t understand what you’re looking for.’

‘Did your husband have any reason to commit suicide, Mrs Stathatos?’

‘As far as I know … no.’

‘Then why did he?’

She shrugged in a manner indicating resignation. ‘Why do people kill themselves, Inspector? Because their lives didn’t turn out the way they expected … Because they don’t like the world around them … Because they’re tired of life and can’t take any more …’

‘Do any of those reasons fit your husband’s case?’

‘No. Loukas had everything he wanted and he was a person full of life.’

‘So?’

‘He went mad,’ she replied abruptly. ‘It happens sometimes that people suddenly go mad for no good reason. That’s what happened to Loukas. He went mad. It’s the only explanation.’

‘Do you think it was madness that drove him to commit suicide in public?’

‘If you’d met him, you’d know that Loukas liked grandiose
gestures
. He wanted to be in the limelight, he wanted his every word and action to create an impression. That in combination with madness can lead to extreme situations.’

If Stefanakos’s had been the only suicide, I might have believed it. But three people don’t go mad in quick succession, nor does anyone foresee that they’ll go mad and write their biographies. On the other hand, Greece is a country in which everything is explained away as madness. I turned to Mrs Favieros in the hope that she might have a different answer.

‘What about you, Mrs Favieros? Do you have any explanation?’

Panic-stricken, she looked first at Stathatos, then at me, at the same time crossing and uncrossing her legs.

‘What can I say? I don’t know. All I know is that I was living with a man who was in his office from morning to night, even at
weekends
; who arranged to go to the cinema with you and then called you at the last minute to say that something had come up and he couldn’t make it, or who, while you were ready and dressed up to go out for dinner, told you that someone had phoned and he had to go to meet him.’ And suddenly, without any warning, she erupted: ‘Leave me alone, I don’t even want to think about it!’ she cried
hysterically
. ‘Jason’s dead! Why he killed himself, what got into him, I don’t know! All I know is that he’s left me with his businesses, the inheritance, the houses and yachts to sort out and with two children that are in a world of their own and are going on as though their father were still alive!’