control. 'But I may be doing her an injustice, because I know nothing definite. It was all just rumors.'
'And what did the rumors say?'
'That she never had any steady relationships. That she went from one to the other. But she always chose men with clout. Businessmen . . . politicians ... mixed business with pleasure, as we used to say. But let's be clear, I've heard all this from others.'
'Do you know if she was working on anything?'
'I can tell you, generally speaking, that she was never not investigating something. She was a ruthless little ferret. She poked around everywhere and stopped at nothing. She had a thing about bursting out with a story, so she never confided in anyone. Not even Delopoulos, who worshipped her'
'Was she a good reporter? I want your professional opinion, with no trimmings.'
'Everyone disliked her, so she must have been good,' he said. 'A reporter's job is to be disliked. The more disliked he is, the better he is.'
His definition applied as much to him as it did to Karayoryi. He succeeded in making me like him through what he'd said, which confirmed my opinion that he wasn't a good reporter. I kept staring at him in silence. He realized that I had nothing more to ask him and got to his feet.
'So what's going to happen? Will you make a statement so that we'll have something to tell the public?'
'What statement can I make when I don't have any evidence? All I know is what we found out last night. Be patient for a couple of days. Something will turn up.'
As he was going out, the telephone rang. 'Haritos,' I said, faithful as ever to FBI protocol.
'This is Mina Antonakaki, Yanna Karayoryi's sister,' said a broken voice. 'When can I collect my sister's body for burial and from where?'
'In a couple of days, Mrs. Antonakaki, from the mortuary. But we have to meet first.'
'Not now. I'm in no state to meet anyone.'
'Mrs. Antonakaki, yesterday someone murdered your sister. We're trying to find the murderer, and we need information. I understand the state you must be in, but we do have to see you. If you'd prefer, I can come to you. But we mustn't delay.'
She seemed to weigh this for a moment. 'You'd better come around here. I'll be in,' she said in a faint voice, and she gave me her address.
I still hadn't received any information from records, or the coroner's report, and I decided to run through the rest of the reporters so no one would depart feeling left out. No one could tell me anything more useful than Sotiropoulos had told me already. They knew nothing. Karayoryi confided in no one; she never revealed her cards.
When the last reporter had left, I tried to make sense of what I now knew. Outside, the rain was still torrential. The old woman opposite was standing at the balcony door saying something to the cat in her arms. I couldn't tell whether she was chatting with it or singing 'Raindrops Keep Falling on My Head' to it, but the cat appeared to be enjoying it. I was so carried away by the cat's contentment that I didn't hear the door open. A discreet cough brought me back to my senses.
Standing at the door was a thirty-year-old woman, neither tall nor short, neither pretty nor plain. She was wearing boots and a beige raincoat belted tightly around the waist, perhaps in an attempt to look more sexy, but the result was lukewarm.
'Good morning, I'm Martha Kostarakou,' she said with a smile.
I suddenly saw her in a different light. Kostarakou was my one hope of learning something specific-that is, if Sperantzas had been telling me the truth.
'As of today, I'm taking over Yanna Karayoryi's job.' She said it with some difficulty, still smiling embarrassedly. 'Mr. Delopoulos told me to come and see you. He also told me that you would keep me personally informed concerning the investigation into Yanna's murder, and exclusively so.' Unconsciously, she let out a sigh, as if a burden had been lifted from her. She was the polar opposite of Karayoryi. Neither aggressive nor arrogant, but rather a demure young thing, the kind you feel sorry for and toss a bone to. Like a third world country that you give aid to and that can't thank you enough-until, that is, it discovers oil and tells you into which orifice you can insert yourself.
'Why did you dislike Karayoryi? What had she ever done to you?'
Her smile faded, her hands clutched at her bag, squeezing it tightly, and she stared at me, speechless. Just when she'd thought everything was going smoothly, I'd suddenly turned the tables on her, and now she was the one who was going to have to talk, not me.
'Who told you that?' she asked in a trembling voice. 'Yanna and I were colleagues. We weren't exactly friends, but I didn't dislike her, and I certainly didn't wish her any harm.'
'Do you mean to tell me that what she did to you was of no importance and you forgot it straightaway?' Like Kostaras, I was fishing blindly to see what I might come up with.
'Did what? That she got me taken off crime reporting so she could take my place and had me put on the medical reports? To be honest, I was better off there. There was less work and I didn't have to run around all day. Not to mention that I was dealing with scientists and not muggers and murderers.'
'Who was behind her? From what I've heard, you're good at your job. So she must have had to pull a few strings to get you out of the way.
She understood that I was playing up to her vanity and smiled, ironically this time.
'Listen to me,' I said, adopting a tougher tone. 'You were responsible for the crime reporting. Karayoryi came along, took your place, and landed you with the medical reports. Don't tell me that it didn't bother you. You might not have said anything, but deep down you were furious with her. And suddenly, one evening, somebody murders Karayoryi. And the very next morning, you're back in your old job. You're the first to have something to gain from her death. Do you know what that means?'
She got the message because she jumped up and shouted: 'What are you trying to say? That I'm the one who killed her?'
'No, I'm not saying that. At least not at the moment. Of course, I don't know what I'm going to come up with tomorrow if I start looking. But tongues will start wagging from today. And the longer it goes on, the more wagging there'll be. So the sooner we get to the bottom of it the better for you if you want to keep people's mouths shut tight. Tell me who was behind her. Was it Delopoulos?'
She laughed, as though what I'd said seemed genuinely funny to her. 'Is that what they told you? That she did as she pleased because she was sleeping with the boss?' Her laughter stopped abruptly. 'You're quite wrong. Yanna was smart and methodical. When she came to the channel, she undertook the medical reporting, but she wasn't particularly interested in it because there was nothing sensational, no hard-hitting news. Just the occasional mention at the end of the news bulletin. Inside a month, she'd got herself involved with Petratos, the news editor. It took her another two weeks to get her hands on my job. But I have to be honest with you. She wasn't only ambitious, she was talented too, much more talented than me. She came up with exclusive reports, delved into cases, unmasked people. She latched on to the Kolakoglou case and forced Delopoulos to give her the freedom to explore as she wished. Once that happened, she gave Petratos the boot. Of course, he took it badly. He would have been happy to have been shut of her, but it was too late, he couldn't say anything to her anymore.' She fell silent and once again let out a sigh, as if relieved to have got that much off her chest. 'No, Yanna didn't need to sleep with Delopoulos in order to have clout. She managed it with her talent. She used Petratos to get her chance, but everything else she did on her own.'
I hadn't liked Karayoryi at all and I'd branded her a lesbian. Sotiropoulos, who also disliked her, and who in his Robespierre role defended all the people on society's fringes, preferred to call her a nympho and a slut. And now this half-baked girl had come along to put things in their proper place. I began to feel a certain respect for Kostarakou, but my instinct told me not to get carried away. What if her honesty was simply a front?
'Where were you last night between ten and twelve?'
'Alone at home, like every other night,' she said calmly, almost sorrowfully. 'First with a salad, then with a whiskey, and always with the TV on.' She stopped, looked me in the eye, and added with barely perceptible emphasis: 'Till eleven, when Yanna called me.'
'Karayoryi phoned you at eleven?'
'Yes. To tell me that she had a report ready for the late-night news that would cause a sensation.'
Who else had she told apart from Kostarakou and Sperantzas? If I found that out, I'd be getting closer to
