‘All right.’
I left her at home and set off. The Mirafiori was like an oven inside even though I’d parked it in the shade. When I reached the junction at Vasileos Konstantinou Avenue, I wondered whether it would be better to turn left towards Syntagma Square or right towards Vasilissis Sofias Avenue and take Soutsou Street out into Alexandras Avenue. By the time the lights changed to green, I had decided upon the latter route and I was proven right. Apart from the permanent congestion in Soutsou Street, the road was more or less clear.
I got to the end of Patission Street drenched in sweat but without too many problems with the traffic. There, however, I made the major mistake of taking the national road in order to reach Menidi via Metamorphosi. The traffic jammed up because of the works for the new Attica bypass. A policeman directed us down a dirt track that had remained from the time when they still grazed goats in Metamorphosi. It took us the best part of half an hour and three tons of dust to cover a distance of two hundred yards, and with a fair amount of anxiety because the engine was overheating and I was afraid the car would eventually come to a stop in the middle of the goat path. Fortunately, the road soon widened again and the car cruised comfortably as far as the turn for Thrakomakedones.
In less than a quarter of an hour I was at the Olympic Village. I made my way straight to the drainage works that were being constructed by Domitis and looked for the foreman, Karanikas. He was yelling at some workers who were down in a ditch. He saw me but paid no attention and went on with his work. I waited patiently for him to finish because I needed him.
‘Why are you chasing after stuff gone stale when there’s plenty of fresh around?’ were his first words when at last he came over to me.
‘Which is the stale stuff and which the fresh?’
‘The stale is Favieros, the fresh is Stefanakos.’
His cynicism got on my nerves and I felt like taking him down a piece. ‘Do you find it amusing that two people should commit suicide in front of so many people?’ I asked him, trying to keep a calm voice.
He shrugged indifferently. ‘What do you want me to do? Feel sorry for them because they were playing the TV game?’
‘What TV game?’
He repeated, almost verbatim, Adriani’s argument. ‘Come off it, don’t tell me that you don’t know that the channel gets them to commit suicide to increase its ratings and cash in on the advertisements. And you’re the police!’
‘And you’re telling me that a businessman and a politician would commit suicide because a TV channel asked them to?’
‘Haven’t you heard what everyone’s saying? Political scandal! And who’s to tell me that the channel didn’t get wind of it and bribed them into committing suicide in order to get exclusive coverage? Haven’t you seen what they put on the top left of the screen? Exclusive scenes! Doesn’t that tell you anything?’
It was a good thing that Adriani wasn’t there to hear the full theory. She would have had me down for a nincompoop.
‘Never mind about the TV. I came here to ask you something else.’
‘Ask away, but make it quick, because we’ve got work to do.’
‘Last time you told me that Favieros took good care of the foreign workers.’
He chuckled smugly. ‘Yes, but the days of the fatted calves are over. Now we’re chasing after cats or the odd stray dog, at most a chicken from Menidi. Each to his own lot.’
‘Do you know whether any of them bought houses or flats while they were working here?’
‘Any of them? Nearly all of them! You see only misery, do you? It’s all playacting. Favieros was the only one to swallow it and he found homes for them.’
‘You mean he helped them to buy their own places?’
‘He encouraged them to buy! He would even give them advances for the deal or chip in to make up the amount and then stop it out of their wages little by little.’
‘Did he do the same for our people?’
‘There are none of our people here, didn’t I tell you? When I asked him for an advance to buy a new car, he suggested I get the company to intervene with the bank so I could take out a loan. But with all the foreigners he was open-handed. That’s why they saw him as their saviour and were all grateful to him.’
Why wouldn’t they be grateful? Thanks to him, they acquired their own place, something they didn’t have even in their own countries. They had no idea that he was stealing from them and they would never find out. Nor would Karanikas, who took him for a sucker.
I got back home at four in the afternoon feeling like a roast chicken. Adriani and Koula were in the sitting room with the fan placed between them. With difficulty, I managed to whisper a ‘hello’ and went to the bathroom to catch my breath. I took off my shirt, turned on the tap and stuck my head under it. I let the water run for some time until it went from being lukewarm to cold. I dried myself, changed my shirt and trousers and felt somewhat better.
Adriani and Koula had moved into the kitchen. The table had been laid, but the heatwave, the congestion and the Olympic Village had made me feel like a marathon runner who had just entered the stadium after twenty-six miles and didn’t even have the strength to open his mouth.
‘Sit down and have something to eat,’ Adriani said to me.
‘Later. I couldn’t swallow anything right now.’
‘Sit down because you’ll miss out on the surprise and you’ll regret it.’
She shot a sly look at Koula. So now we’re in cahoots, I thought to myself. I decided to play along so as not to spoil the nice atmosphere. Adriani put a plate of baked aubergines in front of me. This was a very pleasant surprise because baked aubergines are my second favourite dish after stuffed tomatoes. To tell the truth, I hate meat. The only meat I eat with pleasure is in kebabs.
‘Well, how do you find it?’
I took a mouthful. ‘Very tasty. Well done, you’ve got it just right.’
‘Not me. Koula!’ she replied beaming with satisfaction.
‘With Mrs Haritos’s help,’ added Koula, who had gone bright red.
‘All I told her was how much oil to use. Everything else she did herself.’
I would have to readjust the family budget because now I had to add the cookery lessons for Koula with the use of ingredients thrown in free.
‘Well done. Koula, it’s very tasty. Congratulations!’ Once they had been awarded the citation, they were ready to return to the sitting room. ‘Did you manage to get away at all from the aubergines to find time to go to the land registry?’ I said, having a dig.
Adriani continued in the direction of the sitting room. Koula stayed behind and didn’t seem to have been upset at all by my dig, because she gave me a big smile.
‘I didn’t need to go to the land registry. I found out the notary’s name from Ilias.’
‘And who might Ilias be?’
‘Ilias Aristopoulos. The young guy at Domitis who helped me concerning the offshore company?’ She took a piece of paper out of her pocket. ‘His name is Athanassios Karyophyllis and his office is in Solonos Street, number 128.’
‘And what did you give him in exchange for the information?’ I asked her meanly, because I couldn’t stomach the fact that, in spite of the aubergines, she had come up trumps.
She broke into laughter. ‘A drink tonight. We’re meeting at nine thirty, and at eleven thirty, I’ll start to feel sleepy because of the heat and the tiredness and I’ll go home to bed.’
‘Smart girl,’ Adriani commented when Koula had left with her standard Tupperware container filled with food. ‘It’s in her blood, she’s a quick learner.’ She paused for a moment and then whispered, as though speaking to herself: ‘Not like our daughter.’
‘Are you all right in the head? Are you comparing Koula to Katerina?’ I protested angrily.
