'What does it matter, Mum? The man asked a question, I knew the answer, and I told him. When I don't know the answers at school, you go crazy. Now, when I do know them, you still go crazy.'
The woman went inside, slamming the door behind her. Her rudeness didn't bother me at all. In fact, she was doing me a favor, as I wanted to get her son on his own.
'Are you sure his car was gone?' I said.
'Look, he's the only one in the building with a black Renegade. It's a really cool set of wheels and whenever I see it, I can't take my eyes off it. I've tried to persuade the old man to get me one, but he won't hear of it. `What's wrong with the Starlet? It's a great little car,' he al ways says. Anyway, yesterday when I parked the Starlet, the Renegade wasn't there.'
'Let's go down to the garage so you can show me where he parks it.' I wanted to take a look myself.
'Sure, come on,' he said.
It was a spacious garage, easily big enough for twenty cars. Most of the parking spots were empty. Only five of them were occupied, one by the black Renegade. The car to the right of it was covered over; the space on the left side was empty.
'There it is!' the kid shouted in admiration. 'Cool, eh?'
I looked at my watch. It was already four. It seems he came back late in the afternoon, took a rest, and returned to the studio around seven-thirty. It wasn't at all improbable that the woman in the flat next to Petratos's had rung his bell and told him absolutely everything I'd said. I couldn't care less. Let him phone Delopoulos and tell him that I was still harassing him. I walked around the Renegade, but saw nothing from the outside that looked unusual. I went closer and looked through the window. There were some videocassettes on the passenger seat. The backseat was strewn with newspapers and magazines. That was all. The kid walked over to the Starlet.
'Are you staying here?' he called.
'No, I'm coming.'
'As I turned to walk to the exit, something under the covered car caught my eye. I bent down and saw a length of wire, carelessly wound up.
'Just come here a second!' I called to the young man.
He turned and looked askance at me. 'My mum was right, I should have kept my mouth shut,' he said, irritated.
'Come here, I said!' My tone brooked no objection, and he came over.
'What's that there, under the car?'
Curious, he bent down and took hold of the wire. 'A piece of wire,' he said, not giving a damn. He had no idea that this wire might possibly lead him to court as a prosecution witness to testify that he had found it next to Petratos's car.
'How long has it been there?'
'How should I know?' That's Kalafatis's car. He died three months ago. It's just been standing there ever since. Why, is it important?'
'Important. Of course it's important. Don't you know that wire can puncture the tires? And you want a Renegade.' I took the wire from him. He shot me a venomous look and went to his Starlet. He started it up, opened the garage door using a magnetic card, and sped off. I followed him out, while the door slowly closed behind me.
I sat in my Mirafiori and looked at the wire, which I'd put on the seat beside me. It seems I'd underestimated Petratos. The second murder may have been premeditated, but the murder weapon had again been something at hand, something chosen at random, as was the case with Karayoryi's murder. He'd seen the wire as he was getting into his car; he'd cut off a piece and later used it to strangle Kostarakou before pocketing it and leaving. If it had been a knife or a gun, we would have been able to prove that it was his or find out where he'd got it from. But the wire? You could find it in any hardware store, in homes, all over the place. How could anyone prove that the murder had been committed with that particular piece of wire, tossed down next to his car? Any two-bit lawyer would be able to get the evidence thrown out immediately. Perhaps that was why he hadn't bothered to get rid of the rest of the wire. It had been lying there for three months under the dead man's car. 'If I'd killed her, would I have left the wire lying there? Wouldn't I have gotten rid of it?' Most certainly, the judge would agree, you don't find murderers as stupid as that, not even made to order.
It took me around a quarter of an hour to get from Aghia Paraskevi to Hellas Channel in Spata. There was only Sperantzas in the newsroom. He was preparing the six o'clock news bulletin. He'd lost his resentful expression and stared at me with a nervous, frightened look.
'Who's going to be next?' he said. 'Are we all going to get caught up in this?'
I made no effort to reassure him. Having him frightened suited me. 'Did no one wonder where Kostarakou was when she didn't turn up at the studio yesterday evening?'
'Why should she turn up here? She came, handed over her report, already edited, and left at around five. She'd have come back only if something special had come up for the nine o'clock news. We don't clock in here.'
'So not even Petratos is here all the time?'
'Not even him. He leaves around four and comes back between seven and seven-thirty.'
'What time did he get back yesterday?' He looked at me inquisitively. 'Don't go getting any ideas,' I told him. 'I'm just trying to form a clear picture.'
'I have no idea. But he wasn't back at seven, which is when I left.'
I left him to get on with his work in peace. On my way back from Spata, I dropped in at the lab and gave the wire to Dimitris. He took a look at it, and when I saw him shrug his shoulders, my fears were confirmed.
'We can examine it,' he said, 'but as soon as the prosecutor gets hold of it, he'll chuck it straight out. It's easy for us to prove that he strangled her with a wire like this one, but practically impossible for us to prove that the murder was committed with this one that you found in the garage.'
'I know,' I replied, disappointed all the same. 'But examine it anyway.
A wind had kicked up and the air smelled like an autumn downpour. As I drove back to the office, I reflected that everything pointed to Petratos, but I had no evidence. If it had been anyone else, I would have hauled them down to the station and put the screws on until they confessed. But for Petratos, I needed Ghikas's okay. And I didn't think he'd give it to me.
CHAPTER 23
I hurried to be in time for the nine o'clock news. Kostarakou's murder was sure to be the main story, and I didn't want to miss it. I got my breath back as I walked into the living room.
Adriani was in her usual place, clutching the remote control. I walked in front of her to sit in the other armchair. She pretended not to see me. Her eyes remained fixed on the screen. I shot a quick glance at her and found it all very amusing. I knew how much it rankled her not to be able to hear the news about Kostarakou firsthand and to have to make do with the news on TV like a common mortal. She'd lost her privileged position, but she accepted it with dignity, I had to give her that. She maintained her self-respect and wasn't going to allow her curiosity to get the better of her pride.
Kostarakou's place. The living room where she'd been found murdered. All around were papers on the floor and scattered books, just as we'd found it. Only the body had been taken away. In its place was a chalk outline. The newscaster wore his classic, sorrowful expression, but for the very first time he convinced me that his regret was genuine. The words came slower and fainter out of his mouth. He held his hands out in the usual sign of despair. Even his tailored jacket seemed to be sagging at the shoulders.
'Unfortunately, at this moment in time, we have no further information, ladies and gentlemen,' he said. 'The police believe the two murders are connected and are continuing their investigations with all possible urgency under the direct supervision of the chief of Athens security, Superintendent Ghikas.'
Because I'd come out on top in the matter of Petratos, Ghikas was elbowing me aside, to get back his own. Now he was taking charge, and I would get pushed into the wings. Not that it hurt my pride, it simply bothered me that as of the very next day, I'd have to report to him and get his permission for my every move.
I'd become absorbed in my thoughts and was no longer concentrating on the news. I came around when I suddenly saw Petratos on the screen, beside the newscaster.
'Good evening, Nestor,' the newcaster said. 'For the second time in just a few days, the Hellas Channel has
