"What do you know about police investigations to even have an opinion, you stupid shit?" I yelled at her.
"Don't you talk to me like that!" She jumped up in anger.
"What do you think the police are like? Like that arsehole that you watch every evening yelling his head off? They make them like that to delude credulous cows like you!"
"I won't allow you to talk to me like that!"
"As if I need your permission. Go on, get your boots on and get me something to eat!"
"Get it yourself, you pig! You bastard!" She went out, shaking from head to foot, just at the moment that I picked up the coffee table and threw it back down. It was like the coffee table that Antonakaki had in her living room, except that ours had a vase of flowers on it that fell over and soaked the carpet.
All I'd needed was one small provocation. I'd had it bottled up inside me all day and I'd taken it out on her. But I'd done it on this occasion because I'd wanted to take her down a peg or two. I knew what would be waiting for me otherwise. She'd make my life unbearable. She'd want to verify every little piece of nonsense that she heard on TV about Karayoryi's murder and ask me for details about the investigation. And I wasn't going to make two reports a day. One to Ghikas in the morning and one to Adriani in the evening. She'd stop talking to me for at least two weeks now. I'd lie on the bed with my dictionary, and I'd get some peace.
I switched off the TV and tried to put my thoughts into some order. So Kolakoglou had been released from prison after serving three-fifths of his sentence. And he had openly threatened Kara yoryi, there was no denying that. He'd spent three and a half years in prison with the thought of revenge. That's all that had kept him going. During this time, Karayoryi had published her book, which was only fat on the fire. Within a month of getting out, he'd done her in. The fact that he'd disappeared from the face of the earth was the more incriminating, together with the fact that Karayoryi was afraid for her life. She had heard that Kolakoglou had been released, and that's why she'd been frightened. The whole scenario suited me to a T, as it left out Petratos. You grab a pederast, who's already done three and a half years inside, you lock him up again, this time for life, and everybody's happy, above all Ghikas, who credits me with another twenty-five points.
Fine so far, but there was one snag in the whole imbroglio. Why would Kolakoglou risk going to the studio to kill Karayoryi? He certainly ran the risk of being recognized at any moment. Wouldn't it have been easier and safer if he'd waited for her on some street corner at night? Let's suppose, however, that he'd decided to take the risk and that he'd gone there. Wouldn't he have had a knife or something with him to cut her throat, or a rope to strangle her? Would he have left it to chance, hoping that he'd find a light stand there to do the job? I had no liking at all for Kolakoglou-I'd have been only too happy to put him away again. That was one thing, but it was another matter entirely to arrest the first villain who came to mind. Besides, there was the threatening letter among Karayoryi's papers. Kolakoglou's first name was Petros. There was no persuasive connection with the N who had signed the letters. And since there was no connection, there must have been someone else, someone other than Kolakoglou, who was threatening Karayoryi.
All this got my goat because the tidy solution I'd come up with, that left out Petratos, didn't seem so tidy in the end. I picked up the telephone and called the studio. I asked the operator, who answered in a couldn't-care-less tone, to put me through to Petratos.
"Yes," said a sharp voice.
"This is Inspector Haritos, Mr. Petratos. I saw your report about Karayoryi's murder on the news and I'd like to talk to you. Please remain there and I'll be right over"
"I can appreciate your urgency," he said with heavy irony. "Come on over. I'll be waiting for you."
It was an opportunity for me to get out of the dilemma of having to get my own meal and of losing face before Adriani. I thought that on the way back I'd stop and get a couple of souvlaki with all the spicy garnishing rather than have the spinach and rice that I hated. Not to mention that I'd reek of garlic from fifty paces and Adriani wouldn't get a wink of sleep because of the smell.
CHAPTER 16
At last, I saw the man from the defaced photograph in the flesh. He was a porky forty-something with chubby cheeks, hair cropped short at the sides and bushy on top-a real doughboy. In appearance, he played on two fronts: that of the serious news editor, with his dark gray suit; and that of the casual reporter, with turtleneck sweater, without ties or formalities.
We were inside Petratos's cubicle and I was facing him, but at an angle. Facing me was the newscaster, with his tailored suit and the handkerchief in his breast pocket. They smiled at me. Smiles full of condescension for the poor police officer who'd come to pay his respects. I played the fool because it suited me that way.
"Kolakoglou is an interesting case," I said in a friendly tone. "Of course, it's a little too early to say for sure that he's our murderer. We will need to continue investigating."
They swapped more smiles and Petratos shrugged. "We're done with our investigation," he said. "But you go ahead. When all's said and done, it's your job to investigate."
"That's why I'm here to see you. Do you have any other evidence, that you haven't yet revealed to your audience and that might help our investigation?"
"We don't keep cards up our sleeves, Inspector," the newscaster broke in. "What evidence we have, we come out with it, so that the public may be informed."
Petratos rested his elbows on the desk and put his hands together. "Let's speak openly, Inspector Haritos. Yesterday, Mr. Delopoulos suggested that we work together. You'd give us precedence in informing us about the course of your investigation and we'd give you whatever evidence we have. This morning I sent Kostarakou to see you. Not only did you not tell her anything, but you even interrogated her. And now you're asking us to give you evidence. That's not the way it works."
"I didn't give any information to Miss Kostarakou because I had nothing to tell her. We're still in the dark. You're already one step ahead of us." If it seemed as if I was sucking up to them, I wasn't; it was a tactical maneuver. Not one learned from the FBI, but one learned in the Greek village. "That's why I came to ask for your help. From tomorrow morning, we'll be inundated with phone calls. Every two minutes someone tells us that they've seen Kolakoglou. We don't know where this mass hysteria will take Kolakoglou. So we have to find him, and quickly."
"We disagree on that too, Inspector Haritos." He looked at me as if I were a person with special needs, who had to be taught basic literacy. "Would that the public were so concerned about Yanna Karayoryi's murder as to take to the streets tomorrow and look for her murderer. That would not only be a huge journalistic coup, but also a mark of recognition for everything Yanna achieved."
"And what if the murderer was someone else? Okay, there's incriminating evidence with regard to Kolakoglou, but we cannot yet be certain that he killed her. He may be innocent."
"What are you afraid of?" the newscaster said. "That you might tarnish the reputation of a pederast who was sentenced to six years in prison?"
"No. I'm afraid that we may waste time looking for the wrong person.
"First of all, it's not our job to prove Kolakoglou's guilt," Petratos broke in. "We're simply handing him over. Everything else is up to you.
In other words, they were lumbering us with Kolakoglou. It was for us to run around and prove his guilt. Meanwhile, they'd fill their news bulletins with the story and up their ratings.
"Anyway, you're worrying for nothing," Petratos went on. "It's ninety percent certain that he's the murderer. If it hadn't been for Yanna, he'd have got away with his squalid little crimes. He's the only one with a motive."