since she got better results that way.'
He didn't appreciate that what he was saying put Petratos in an even worse position. Because if that were the case, it meant that Petratos had secured complete independence for her and she, as a token of her gratitude, had left him.
'Please understand, Mr. Delopoulos, Superintendent Ghikas advised me to tell you everything, to keep nothing back.' This seemed to please him. He leaned back in his chair, knitted his fingers, and waited for my full capitulation. 'Our work obliges us to investigate every piece of information, every piece of hearsay, no matter how implausible it may seem. Well, there are certain rumors circulating among the reporters that you intended to get rid of Mr. Petratos and to give his job to Karayoryi.'
Petratos jumped to his feet. He was shaking from head to toe with anger and indignation. And Delopoulos looked furious too. He forgot his easygoing attitude, banged his hand on his desk, and shouted: 'I categorically deny it. I have total confidence in Mr. Petratos and I can assure you that his position was never in any jeopardy on Karayoryi's account.'
'All this is a cheap diversion,' Petratos fumed, still shaking. 'You're unable to find Kolakoglou, who's the murderer, and you're trying to throw dust in our eyes.'
'What have you done about Kolakoglou?' Delopoulos wanted to know, looking as if he would gladly throw me out with the trash.
'Nothing yet.'
'Ha!' cried Petratos, triumphantly.
'All we have up to now is some information from a clerk in the ticket office at the bus station in Kifisos. He remembers him buying a ticket to Thessaloniki.'
'And why didn't you tell us that before? From our first meeting I told you that I want you to give us priority with regard to any information you might obtain. Mr. Petratos told you the same thing. Yet you continue to keep us in the dark, in a matter that is of intimate concern to our channel.'
'I didn't want the information to leak out and for Kolakoglou to hear of it. When you're hunting for someone, you don't say where you've seen him, or you'll help him get away. At any rate, that, I can assure you, is the only information we have.'
'I tend to believe that Mr. Petratos was right,' Delopoulos said. 'You are incompetent, and I'm seriously thinking of asking the minister to have you replaced. It will depend on whether you-'
Before I had time to learn what would depend on me, the telephone rang. He lifted the receiver, answered with a sharp 'Yes,' and handed the receiver to me.
'It's for you.'
'Hello.' I only use 'Haritos' at the station. At the other end of the line, I heard Sotiris's worried voice.
'Martha Kostarakou has been found dead in her home, Inspector.'
It took a few moments for the news to work its way around my circuit and for me to reassemble my thoughts. 'When did you learn this?'
'A very short while ago. An anonymous telephone call. I've sent a patrol car. I'm on my way there now, but I thought that perhaps you'd want to come too. The address is Twenty-one Ieronos Street, Pangrati.'
'Okay. I'm on my way.'
Delopoulos, who was waiting for me to hang up, went on regardless. 'I was saying, then, that it will depend on whether you-'
But he paused, like Rommel in the desert, and he lost the advantage. 'I have some exclusive information to give you, Mr. Delopoulos. A short while ago, Martha Kostarakou was found dead in her home.'
I saw them freeze on the spot, speechless, and suddenly Mrs. Kolakoglou's words came to mind: 'I won't say I'm glad she was killed, but there's such a thing as divine retribution.'
CHAPTER 21
'Can you tell me what time it happened?'
Markidis slowly got up from the corpse. He didn't reply straightaway. He looked at his watch and did his calculations.
'It's twelve now. I'd say about seventeen hours have passed, so that means she was killed between six and eight yesterday evening.'
Great. While I was listening to Thanassis giving me the report on Kolakoglou, someone was murdering Martha Kostarakou ten blocks up from my house.
She was lying facedown in front of me, next to the sofa. One arm was under her body, while the other, the left one, was stretched out at her side. As though she'd tripped after getting blind drunk and had fallen flat on the floor. She was wearing jeans, a pullover, and those Dutch clogs.
'She was strangled, right?'
'Yes. With wire or wire cord.'
He bent down and pulled her hair back. Her head was resting to one side and was facing her arm. A scar, rather like a gash, ran along the left side of her neck. The trickle of blood to either side of it had dried.
'That wound was made by wire,' Markidis said. 'Rope and cord don't leave scars like that. He strangled her while she was on her feet and let her fall to the floor when she was dead.'
'Was he strong?'
'Yes, just like with the other woman. We're probably talking about the same person.'
I knew what this meant and I didn't like it at all. If he'd strangled her with her own scarf or with a cord, then it would have been the same as in the case of Karayoryi. It would mean that he hadn't come with the intention of killing her but had decided on the spot, taking hold of whatever he could find to do the job. But in this case, the murderer had come prepared. And if he was the same person, as Markidis supposed, then he'd progressed from a murder committed on impulse to a premeditated one. In other words, from bad to worse.
Besides, the flat spoke for itself. Someone had ransacked it. Drawers hung open, papers were strewn all over the floor. The books from the fitted bookcase were scattered to the four corners of the room. He'd been frantically looking for something that Kostarakou hadthat's why he'd killed her, I thought to myself. The officers who'd arrived in the patrol car had found the front door to the flat half open, but the lock hadn't been broken. Kostarakou must have let him in. Just as Karayoryi had been sitting with him before he killed her. Markidis's theory seemed to be right. It was the same murderer and he was known to both of them. So, it must have been someone from their circle. Petratos again came to mind. Maybe his affair with Karayoryi had been even more complicated. Maybe Karayoryi had found out something about him, from when they were together, and was blackmailing him. But why would Petratos suppose that Karayoryi had told his secret to Kostarakou? He knew that they couldn't stand each other. One thing for sure was that Kostarakou had known far more than she'd told me. I'd told her the night I was coming out of Petratos's office that she'd land herself in trouble, but she hadn't listened.
The letter I'd found in Karayoryi's desk now acquired even greater importance. If the one who had threatened her in writing was Nestor Petratos, then it was all as clear as daylight. He'd learned from Kostarakou about the telephone call she'd received from Karayoryi, but he hadn't believed her. He was sure that he'd find in Kostarakou's place what he was looking for and killed her in order to get it. That was why the door hadn't been forced. Kostarakou wouldn't have thought twice about opening the door to Petratos. But if N was not Petratos, we were in a real mess, because it meant that there had to be a third suspect.
Sotiris came out of the bedroom and interrupted my thoughts. 'It's just as bad in there,' he said.
'Have you found anything?'
'Like what? It's not like we know what we're looking for.'
'The anonymous telephone call. Was it from a man or a woman?'
'From a woman, but she didn't call us. She called the Emergency Unit.'
'He must have been in a hurry. Otherwise he'd have seen that he hadn't closed the front door properly.'
'Can we exclude the possibility that the woman who found her had a key? She entered the flat, saw the body in front of her, and in her confusion ran out and left the door open.'
'We can't exclude it, no, but it's unlikely. If it was someone who had a key, a cleaner for example, she'd have started screaming and alerted the neighbors. The woman who found her couldn't have known Kostarakou. The door was open, she came in, saw her dead, and left quietly. Then she called to inform us, or the Emergency Unit, without giving her name so as to avoid getting involved.'
