Himmler when he flushed out Jews hidden in attics.
'Have you been around to Kolakoglou's old office recently?'
'No. Neither recently nor in the past. I've never been there.'
'You'll find yourself in an enormous office for what it is, accounting and tax matters. They're lousy with money. And do you know who owns it?'
'Who?'
'The parents of the two girls. They banded together and kept the business going.' He fell silent and stared at me. I waited for him to go on. 'Who's to say they didn't get him denounced as a pederast to get their hands on his business? Kolakoglou was fond of the two little girls, he never tried to hide it. It wasn't difficult for the parents to claim that there was some grubbier motive behind the sweets and cakes. And it's easy to tell two little girls what to say. I'm not saying that that's what happened, but it's worth looking into. The girls must be in high school now. If I can talk to them, they might have a very different story to tell today.'
He came out with it all in one go. He took a deep breath and stared at me, pleased as punch with himself. Before we came up with Karayoryi's murderer, we'd end up with a dozen indictments, a couple of suicides, and who knows what else.
'If I turn out to be right, that'll be the coup de grace for Petratos. He's already on the way out.'
'Petratos?'
'Didn't you know? Delopoulos has him lined up for dismissal. But what with Karayoryi's murder and everything, he's safe for the time being. That's why he stirred up all the business with Kolakoglou. He's desperate for a big story so as to keep his job. But he's made a pig's ear of that too.' He adopted his wily look again. 'Word has it that Delopoulos had Karayoryi earmarked for his job.'
'Why didn't you tell me all this yesterday?' I said curtly.
'What was there to tell? There was no Kolakoglou on the scene yesterday. He came into the equation last night.' He thought he'd left me speechless. 'I didn't say anything to you yesterday, because I didn't know anything. Now that I do know, I've come to tell you. It shows my good intentions.' He got to his feet, but he didn't leave. He stood there, looking at me. 'You owe me one,' he said.
Of course, I was under no delusion that everything he'd told me was purely out of kindness. 'Okay, but all I can give you is a postdated check. When I learn something, I'll let you know.'
'Come on, Inspector. What did you get out of Kolakoglou's mother?' he asked in a tone that showed there was nothing he didn't know.
'Nothing. He disappeared on the day of the murder and hasn't been home since. All he did was call to say he was all right. At least, that's what his mother says.'
He didn't believe me, but that didn't bother him, especially as he'd come with another purpose. He'd wanted to make Petratos seem unreliable and he'd succeeded. Why did Petratos keep cropping up? Without knowing it, Sotiropoulos had provided me with another piece of information. Karayoryi had wanted his job, and so he'd had another reason to hate her. What man wouldn't hate the bitch who first used him, then dumped him, and finally stole his job?
When Sotiropoulos had gone, I shouted Thanassis in and told him to put out a call to the police stations in Keratsini, Perama, and Nikaia to be on the lookout for Kolakoglou. Logically, he wouldn't go where everyone knew him, but in this line of work, you often find a lead where you're least expecting it.
CHAPTER 19
I found her just like every evening, in front of the TV, the remote control in her hand. I thought of going straight into the bedroom and getting comfortable with my dictionary, but I recalled the promise I'd made to Katerina and I went into the living room.
'Good evening.'
She didn't reply, or even turn around to look at me. She simply straightened her head slightly, at the same time sticking out her lower jaw-as Markidis might put it-while her hand squeezed the remote control, a sign that she'd heard me but was determined to ignore me. I understood. It wasn't enough that I'd made the first step with my good evening greeting. She wanted me to sit down beside her and begin the mollycoddling, while she pulled away and told me that she wasn't going to put up with my vile manners anymore and while I told her that she was in the right, that it was the pressures and stress of work that were to blame, and after wasting the best part of three-quarters of an hour like that, she'd finally come around, warning me that it was the last time she was going to give in, while in real life it would always be the time before the last time, because the last time would never come. She didn't get a chance though, because by talking to her I'd fulfilled my obligation to Katerina, and I had no intention of going any further. To my great delight, I was able to stick to my original plan. If Katerina phoned me, I'd say that I'd made an effort, but that it was Adriani who was still sulking and I'd let her get on to her mother.
Produce ... profess ... I was lying on the bed, looking up Ghikas's 'profile' in the Oxford English-Greek Learner's Dictionary. I'd kept my shoes on deliberately to annoy Adriani, so she'd start shouting and be forced to talk to me or go on sulking, in which case I'd lie on the bed every evening with my shoes on for as long as we weren't talking. There it was: Profile = 1. a side view, outline, or representation of a human object, esp. of a human face or head. 2. a short biographical sketch of a subject. So that's what he'd meant. We used to call it a description, now it had become a profile. The description of Kolakoglou fits the description of Karayoryi's murderer. Plain language, so we knew what we were talking about. But did it fit? Apart from the threat, which had nothing to do with his description, nothing else fitted. Sotiropoulos had been right. We were trying to turn Kolakoglou, who'd seduced two little girls with candy and chocolate, into a cold-blooded murderer. Apart from the likelihood of his coming up with an alibi and making us look foolish, there was one other consideration. According to the coroner's report, the murderer had to have been tall and strongly built. That's what Markidis had told me on the night of the murder, and he'd repeated it in his report. Kolakoglou was five foot nothing in height and all shriveled up like his mother. Where would he have found the strength to strike a blow like that at Karayoryi? Then again, if in the end it turned out that Kolakoglou had indeed been the killer, it wouldn't have been the first time that the coroner had made a mistake.
The profile-I decided to use the word so as to get used to it, given that sooner or later I'd be getting it thrown at me all the time-fitted Petratos much better. First of all, he had the necessary build. He was around six foot and stocky. He gave the impression of being a milksop, but he would definitely have had the strength to stick the lamp stand into Karayoryi's breast. Which would also explain why a knife or pistol or some other murder weapon wasn't used. Petratos hadn't gone with the intention of killing her. He'd made up his mind on the spot; the rod was in hand and he'd run her through with it. He'd had a motive: Karayoryi was digging his grave. But then so did Kolakoglou: She'd dug his three years earlier. Karayoryi had known them both; she wouldn't have been surprised to see either of them there. She would have been more cautious in Kolakoglou's case, since he had threatened her, but she was so self-assured and so arrogant she may not have given much thought to it.
A knock at the door woke me from my thoughts. I was surprised, as Adriani hadn't accustomed me to such niceties. When the door opened, it was Thanassis I saw, looking at me with an embarrassed smile.
'Excuse me, but your wife told me that you weren't sleeping.'
I jumped up from the bed. 'What's going on?'
'Nothing,' he said reassuringly. 'I was just passing, and I thought I'd update you on Kolakoglou.'
He did that occasionally. He showed overwhelming zeal in order to get himself into my good graces, but only when he was sure that it wouldn't result in his having to run about or sacrifice his comforts.
I led him into the living room. Adriani had realized that we would be coming in there and had switched off the TV. She was excessively sweet and polite to Thanassis. She asked him how he was, how his family was, gave him coffee and cookies. She didn't even give me a glance, let alone a coffee.
'We had our work cut out with Kolakoglou,' Thanassis said, after having had his fill of Adriani's attentions. 'By six o'clock, we'd had thirty calls. Twenty-five local ones, two from Thessaloniki, one from Larissa, one from Kastoria, and one from Rhodes.'
'What did you expect? They've put him up for auction. Are there any developments?'
He fell silent, but evidently he had a card up his sleeve that he thought was an ace and he was getting ready to produce it. 'He was recognized by a clerk while buying a ticket at the bus station, in Kifisos.'
'When?'
'Yesterday. From what he remembers, he bought a ticket for Thessaloniki.' That was it. Not an ace-at a
