have to do is ask to see their companies’ balance sheets and give them to a specialist to examine. He’ll tell you that the companies are doing just fine.’ She paused for a moment and her tone suddenly became cold. ‘Three people have died by their own hand, Inspector, and before thousands of eyes. That’s tragic for their families and also for those who knew and loved them. But they weren’t murdered, so why do you care?’
Her irony had turned into controlled indignation. They were dead anyway, I thought to myself. If they had been murdered instead of committing suicide, I would have come up with a lead far more easily. How was I to explain to Yannelis, without any evidence, that to my mind the three suicides were indirectly murders? And how was I to convince her that if we didn’t come up with the reasons behind them soon, it was very probable that the suicides would continue and we’d be faced with a suicide epidemic that we wouldn’t know how to stop? If I had been dealing with a murder, I would have been able to involve another three or four divisions. I would collect evidence, have bank accounts opened and, sooner or later, I’d get to the bottom of it. But now I had neither evidence nor arguments and I was going round in circles like a mouse on a wheel.
‘Do you think it a mere coincidence that three leading figures from the world of business, politics and journalism should commit suicide in succession?’
She shrugged. ‘Some coincidences are inexplicable.’
‘And the biographies? The two were published within ten days of each suicide and the third was delivered to my door at the very moment that Vakirtzis was committing suicide.’
This time, she didn’t answer straightaway. ‘Agreed. The biographies lend some weight to your argument. But who’s to say they weren’t already written and the author is simply cashing in on the events? All three of them were well-known personalities and lived action-packed lives. That’s a temptation for any biographer. After all, there’s the example of that nationalist organisation that wanted to take advantage of the suicides to draw attention to itself. Perhaps the biographer was doing the same thing.’
‘He had three biographies of three hundred pages each ready and waiting, Mrs Yannelis. Two of them were already in the hands of the publishers. He can’t have written three biographies expecting his three protagonists to eventually commit suicide. Not to mention that this Logaras didn’t give any address to his publishers, or even a bank account so they could pay him his royalties.’
‘He’s not going to lose them. He can turn up at any time and ask for them.’
‘Perhaps, but his actions suggest that he won’t.’
She looked at me gravely this time and her question sounded sincere: ‘What are you looking for, Inspector?’
‘I told you. I want to find out why Favieros, Stefanakos and Vakirtzis committed suicide.’
‘And you think you’ll find out by investigating our companies?’ she said, again in an ironic tone of voice.
I was about to reply, but Koula beat me to it: ‘Excuse me, Mrs Yannelis, but are you sure there won’t be any more suicides?’ she asked politely. ‘We’ve already had three that follow exactly the same pattern.’
Yannelis turned and stared at her with a surprised look on her face, as though she had just noticed her for the first time. ‘How should I know, my dear girl?’ she said in the same disparaging tone used by taxi drivers when they talk to young women. ‘Let’s face it, not even you know.’
‘Precisely. And because neither you nor we know, you can try answering our questions so that we might get somewhere before we have more suicides on our conscience.’
Yannelis stared at her even more surprised. ‘All right, I’ll tell you whatever I can,’ she said in a conciliatory tone. ‘And if you ever get fed up with the Police Force, come to me and I’ll hire you.’
Koula blushed, which was an encouraging sign that she hadn’t lost her modesty. I took advantage of the window she had opened for me and I began my questioning.
‘Do you know whether Jason Favieros had any connections with Apostolos Vakirtzis?’
‘If you mean professional ones, no. Vakirtzis is neither a partner nor an associate in any of the companies in the group. I can tell you that with certainty.’
‘Do you know whether they had any personal connections?’
She thought for a moment. ‘I think they knew each other from the time of the Junta. From what I remember, Vakirtzis was also involved in the resistance. Jason mentioned his name now and again, but I can’t tell you whether they were still in contact.’
‘Would Mr Zamanis know?’
She looked at me and smiled. ‘My advice to you would be not to ask him. You’re not one of Mr Zamanis’s favourite people at the moment.’
I was about to tell her that I wouldn’t lose any sleep over it, but I held back. The important thing was that there was another link between the three suicides apart from the public spectacle and the biographies: namely, the fact that the three of them knew each other from the time of the Junta and had all been involved in the resistance to the dictatorship. And what might that mean? Was something buried in their anti-Junta past and someone who knew about it was blackmailing them? Perhaps my conjecture was correct, but I’d have to find out first if there was any such secret and what it might be.
I returned to the present to go on questioning Yannelis, but I saw her picking up the phone and I waited.
‘Hello, Xenophon. Tell me something because I’m curious. Did that Vakirtzis who committed suicide the other day know Jason?’ I didn’t expect her to call Zamanis on my behalf and I was astounded. Koula glanced at me with a hint of a smile on her lips. ‘No, no particular reason for asking,’ Yannelis went on. ‘It’s just something that’s stuck in my mind since yesterday and I thought you’d be able to satisfy my curiosity.’ She listened, nodding her head. ‘And were they still in contact?’ she asked cautiously, while turning her eyes to me. ‘They’d talk every so often over the phone, I see. So I was right when I thought I remembered Jason once talking about Vakirtzis.’
She thanked him and hung up the receiver. Then she turned to me. ‘You heard. They’d talk every so often over the phone. The rest is as I told you. They were together during the Junta and did time together in the cells of the Military Police.’
‘Thank you very much, Mrs Yannelis.’
She smiled. ‘You constantly make me change my feelings towards you, Inspector. One moment I find you a little irritating and the next I’m full of admiration for the way you continue to search in the dark.’
‘That offshore company that Favieros had with Mrs Stathatos …’ I said, getting back to my line of questioning because I didn’t want to be thrown off track by her civilities.
‘Balkan Inns?’
‘Precisely.’
She looked at me once again with that same ironic smile on her face. ‘We’ve already had that conversation if I remember correctly.’
‘You don’t remember correctly. You had told me then that the person best able to tell me about it was Mrs Stathatos and that you only concerned yourself with Balkan Prospect. But Mrs Stathatos told me today that she knew very little about it and that it was you who managed Balkan Inns.’
She realised that I had her with her back against the wall, but she didn’t lose her composure. ‘Anyhow, let’s not turn it into a sticking point.’
‘Does Balkan Inns have any connection with your other offshore company?’
Without saying a word, she got up and walked out of the office. Koula turned and stared at me perplexed.
‘What’s suddenly got into her?’
‘Wait and we’ll find out.’
We didn’t have to wait long. Yannelis returned more or less straightaway with two pamphlets in her hand. ‘This is the background to each company together with the most recent balance sheets. If you examine them, you’ll find all the answers you want.’ She remained on her feet and handed me the two pamphlets. ‘Unfortunately, the Balkan Inns pamphlet is in English, we’re out of the Greek ones,’ she added with a slight hint of irony.
It was all the same to me. I’m equally a dunce when it comes to balance sheets whatever language they’re in. Koula had already got to her feet. I got up too and took the pamphlets. It was time for us to leave. We’d been handed our cards, as my dear departed mother used to say.
