Che Committed Suicide (37 page)

I preferred not to answer so as not to commit myself, though I knew he was right when he said that we were walking a tightrope.

The way things were going, the Green Park looked like becoming a regular haunt for my clandestine meetings with Sotiropoulos. If it had been winter, we would have gone to sit aside in some quiet booth. But it was summer and the previous day’s lousy weather was continuing with the humidity stultifying. So we chose a table at the back, among the trees, to avoid any indiscreet eyes.

I’d asked to see him because the search done by Koula and her cousin, Spyros, had not revealed even one company owned or
joint-owned
by Vakirtzis. Spyros had even managed to get into the tax returns, but had found nothing. I began to have doubts about
Logaras
’s reliability, but then I reflected that he no doubt knew what he was saying; we were the ones who didn’t know where to look. And so I had decided once again to have recourse to Sotiropoulos, who was after all a colleague of his and, as was usually the case, would know far more than the Ministry of Trade.

This time, however, I was facing an uneasy Sotiropoulos. He took a sip of his iced coffee and stared at me with the look of someone in a tight corner.

‘You’re asking me to reveal the secrets of a colleague who died in a tragic manner. It’s not exactly easy for me.’

‘Secrets or skeletons? Because Logaras, who knows everything, seems to be talking more of skeletons.’

He remained silent and took another sip of his iced coffee.

‘And there’s another thing,’ he said, even more tense. ‘Vakirtzis and I both came from the same ideological background.’

‘So what?’

All that stuff concerning ideological background meant nothing to me and I was at pains to understand where he was leading. Apparently, however, he took my reaction as an expression of
disparagement
because it rankled him.

‘You’re quite right. It was my mistake to bring up ideology,’ he said sarcastically. ‘You coppers don’t have a clue about the meaning of comradeship and solidarity.’

After several weeks, Sotiropoulos was back to his normal self. Except that, in the meantime, we had grown familiar and the
relations
between us had changed.

‘You know, Sotiropoulos, how I used to refer to you before we got to know each other better?’

‘How?’

‘Robespierre in Armani. And with those little round glasses that you and your intellectual friends wear, like the ones that Nazi butcher Himmler used to wear.’

He stared at me for a moment in astonishment and then burst out laughing. ‘You know, you’re not far wrong.’

‘But I’ll give you one thing.’

‘What?’ he asked, genuinely curious.

‘You’re above board. You might use pressure to come up with a story or exaggerate your reports or make us out to be incompetent, but you never do it for your own ends. You don’t try to scare or blackmail to make money for your businesses.’

He eyed me with satisfaction. ‘I’m glad you give me that at least,’ he said, his face beaming.

‘So what’s your relation with Vakirtzis that makes you want to cover for him? Didn’t you see his place?’

‘Yes.’

‘And you’re still in any doubt?’ I didn’t want to say anything about the notes we’d found on Stefanakos’s laptop because it would only start his mouth watering. ‘I still haven’t found out how and from where he was filling his pockets, but he certainly had his finger in several pies, and I think you know about it. So why give me all that stuff about solidarity? What kind of solidarity is that? The “heat of the moment” kind?’

‘Or the “anything for a comfortable life” kind,’ he replied with a bitter smile. ‘Why bother yourself about it?’ He was silent for a moment and then added without looking at me: ‘Vakirtzis had a brother, Menelaos Vakirtzis.’

The ‘M’ in Stefanakos’s notes, I thought to myself. An entire cooperative was starting to appear. Favieros and his wife, Stefanakos and Lilian Stathatos, and the two brothers, Apostolos and Menelaos Vakirtzis. Of course, the last two were probably on the fringes of the group as they had to secure their participation through pressure and blackmail.

‘You may have heard of Menelaos Vakirtzis as a mayor,’
Sotiropoulos
went on. ‘But he’s also a businessman. One of those who,
unofficially
, are surrounded by misappropriation, scandals, unfair trading and so on. Officially, however, nothing ever comes out into the open. On the contrary, he’s continually nominated for mayor and he’s been elected on the last three occasions. It’s rumoured that all the hushing up and the nominations are due to his brother.’ He turned and looked at me with that ironic expression of his. ‘If you want, wait another three years. If he doesn’t stand at the next local elections or if there’s suddenly a shower of allegations, it means that the rumours were right.’

‘Too long to wait.’

‘So start investigating Menelaos Vakirtzis right away.’

‘Don’t you know what businesses he was involved in?’ I asked, in the hope he might know something and save me some time.

‘No, and I’m not interested any more. Since Vakirtzis died, his brother has ceased to concern me. He’ll either make it as a
businessman
or he’ll come to a bad end as mayor.’

The idea flashed through my mind to assign this too to Ghikas. But I immediately rejected it. I didn’t know whether Menelaos Vakirtzis still had clout even after his brother’s death. And it would have been a mistake to ask Ghikas to investigate people with clout. If he didn’t refuse straight out, he’d no doubt feel so uncomfortable that he would go too easy on them.

I was about to settle on Koula and her cousin again when Zamanis suddenly came to mind. He’d be sure to know whether Favieros had any delings with Menelaos Vakirtzis. I also remembered something else that Stefanakos had noted: that his wife had paid ‘M’ in gold. It might have meant that she had contributed financially to his
election
campaign just as Favieros might have done. Again, Zamanis would be the one to know.

Of course, I knew from Yannelis that I wasn’t his favourite person, but I wasn’t going to lose any sleep over that. I wanted answers. Whether he gave them to me with a smile or with a frown made absolutely no difference to me.

On the other hand, it would be a good idea to get Koula to
investigate
Menelaos Vakirtzis so that I could go to see Zamanis prepared.

‘Excuse me a moment,’ I said to Sotiropoulos and I got up to phone Koula.

When I returned, Sotiropoulos had finished his iced coffee and was about to get up, but I stopped him.

‘There’s something else I want you to tell me. Do you know whether Favieros and Stefanakos’s wife contributed to Menelaos Vakirtzis’s election campaign?’

Sotiropoulos shrugged. ‘It’s very likely. But what do you have to gain by finding out? Parliamentary candidates, candidates for mayor, even candidates for the town council all find various ways of getting money out of businessmen. The businessmen give something to everyone, not because they expect to get it back, but because they believe in being safe rather than sorry. In my opinion, you’ll get far more mileage out of investigating Menelaos Vakirtzis’s businesses.’

‘I intend to do that anyway. But if I manage to unravel the thread linking Vakirtzis’s campaign contributors, I may come up with a lead to something else.’

Sotiropoulos gazed at me and smiled. ‘You’re a smart customer,’ he said. ‘It’s not that common in the Greek Police Force, but you’re a smart customer.’ He paused for a moment and added: ‘I’ll make a few discreet enquiries. If I find out anything, I’ll call you.’

We both got up to go: he to his TV channel and I to see Zamanis. I reached into my pocket to pay, but he stopped me.

‘My turn,’ he said. ‘You paid last time.’

I hadn’t paid, in fact, but I appreciated his kindness.

The fifty-year-old receptionist put down the receiver and looked at me with a sad expression on her face.

‘Unfortunately, Mr Zamanis is extremely busy and can’t see you.’

I was grateful to Yannelis for tipping me off and I had come
prepared
. I got up out of the armchair, beneath Favieros’s watchful eye on the wall, and approached her.

‘It’s a pity he’s not available now,’ I said calmly. ‘Please tell Mr Zamanis that tomorrow we’ll ask him down to Security
Headquarters
to make an official statement.’ The woman looked at me, trying to work out whether I meant it or whether I was bluffing. ‘Following Apostolos Vakirtzis’s suicide, things have taken a more serious turn,’ I went on. ‘We’re now putting all our efforts into investigating the causes behind each suicide, because we want to prevent any more happening. If Mr Zamanis thinks I’m bluffing, he has only to call the Head of Security, Superintendent Ghikas, and have him confirm what I say.’

I finished my little speech and headed towards the exit, but, as I expected, the woman’s voice stopped me.

‘Please wait a moment, Inspector.’

I remained standing to show her that I wasn’t going to wait for long. She again lifted up the receiver, used her other hand to screen her mouth, and began whispering something. Before very long, she put the receiver down and said to me with a smile: ‘Mr Zamanis has agreed to see you.’

I walked towards the lift, expressing neither gratitude nor
satisfaction
in order to show her that it was all the same to me.

‘Wait, someone will come to accompany you.’

‘There’s no need. I know the way,’ I replied coldly.

I went up to the third floor, passed by the tiny stage-sets with the actors and actresses, and walked into the office of Zamanis’s private secretary. She greeted me with the same slight nod of the head as before and, without saying a word, opened the door to Zamanis’s office for me.

Zamanis had all the topographical surveys and plans he could find in his office open on his desk and was poring over them to underline just how busy he was.

‘You seem to make it a habit of coming unannounced,’ he said to me without looking up.

‘Murders come unannounced too. Of course, the police take them on as contractors, are assigned to them, but neither the culprits nor their victims make any announcement.’

My reply made him lift his head and look at me. ‘Murders?’ he asked surprised. ‘Up until now, we’ve been talking about suicides.’

‘Following Vakirtzis’s suicide, we’re now talking openly about instigation to commit suicide, which is tantamount to murder. I’m no longer satisfying my personal curiosity. I’m trying to find out who drove your boss and two others to kill themselves and how I might avert any further suicides.’

He stared at me pensively. What I had told him had caught him off guard and had lessened his composure. ‘Even if there’s some logic behind all this, what I don’t understand is why you believe that the cause is to be found somewhere in our companies. There are no deadly secrets hidden here, believe me.’

He said this with a degree of irony, perhaps in an attempt to regain his aplomb. I decided to be honest with him because, in that way, he would be more likely to open up to me.

‘There are two elements common to Favieros, Stefanakos and Vakirtzis. One is their past. All three had met during their student years, had been involved in anti-Junta activities and had spent time in the cells of the Military Police. In other words, they knew each other very well.’

‘And what’s the other common element?’

‘Their businesses. Apart from the businesses belonging to Jason Favieros and Stefanakos’s wife, Lilian Stathatos, there were also
businesses
owned jointly by Lilian Stathatos and Sotiria Favieros and by Lilian Stathatos and Jason Favieros.’

‘There’s no secret about all those. But where does Vakirtzis fit in to the businesses?’

‘He doesn’t, but his brother, Menelaos Vakirtzis, does.’ I remained silent to see his reaction. He looked at me, waiting for me to
continue
. ‘Apostolos Vakirtzis was a journalist and didn’t want to expose himself as a businessman for two reasons: first, because he would lose his credibility, and, second, because by remaining
inconspicuous
he could help his brother much more effectively. Menelaos Vakirtzis had a mechanical and electrical installations company and a security systems company.’ Again I waited to see whether he would say anything, but he remained quiet. ‘What was the nature of your cooperation with the companies owned by Menelaos Vakirtzis?’

He shrugged and answered indifferently: ‘We worked together on the same construction sites at the Olympic Village. We were
responsible
for the construction, and Menelaos Vakirtzis’s company,
Electrosys
, took care of the electrical installations.’

‘Is that all?’

‘Yes, that’s all.’

Without a word, I reached into my pocket and took out a
photocopy
of Stefanakos’s notes and put it down before him. He read it, then slowly lifted his head and looked at me.

‘What is it?’

‘They’re some notes that we found on Stefanakos’s laptop. It says that Jason Favieros couldn’t refuse Menelaos Vakirtzis because his brother knew too much and Favieros was scared of him. So there are two questions. What couldn’t Favieros refuse Menelaos Vakirtzis and why was he scared of Apostolos Vakirtzis?’

He sighed. ‘Menelaos Vakirtzis had become a pain in the neck,’ he said slowly. ‘To start with, he forced us, through his brother, to enter into a consortium with him. We would take care of the
construction
works and his company, Electrosys, the electrical work. Jason didn’t want to even hear about it.’

‘Why?’

‘Because they’re incompetent and do slapdash work. They’re always behind schedule and we end up rushing around to pull the chestnuts out of the fire. Or the work they do is so shoddy that half the things don’t work and we have to put them right.’

‘Yes, but these notes are much more recent, they can’t be referring to the consortium.’