‘How? Can you explain?’
She reflected a moment before giving her answer.
‘He had inexplicable ups and downs. From being hyperactive, he would suddenly sink into complete inactivity. At one moment, he would suddenly explode and shout his head off without cause, the next he would go into his shell and tell me no one was to disturb him.’
‘Wasn’t he always like that?’
‘Jason? Where did you get that idea? He was always amiable, always with a smile and a friendly word. Everyone in here called him by his first name. If you called him “Mr Favieros”, he would get upset.’
She suddenly broke into tears, silent tears that were revealed more from the jerking of her shoulders than from the sound of her crying. ‘I’m sorry, but whenever I talk about him, I see that frightful scene on the TV before my eyes.’ She wiped her tears with the back of her hand. ‘I’m sure I’ll still see it when I’m in my grave with my eyes closed.’
‘What did he do when he shut himself up in his office?’ I asked in order to stop her sinking any further.
‘He’d sit in front of his computer. One day, to tease him. I said: “What are you doing all day in front of your computer? Writing a novel?” “I’ve already written it and I’m checking it for corrections”, he said in all seriousness.’
Koula came out of the office.
‘I’m done, Inspector.’
We said goodbye to Lefaki and left the room. I avoided the lift and took the stairs in order to marvel a little longer at the neoclassical building.
‘I need a programme for detecting deleted files,’ Koula said on the way down.
‘Why?’
‘Because I didn’t find anything. And because I don’t believe that Favieros was playing patience or rummy on his computer, that means that someone has deleted whatever it was he was working on.’
I found her explanation logical. ‘And where will you get hold of such a programme?’
‘My cousin is a wizard at things like that.’
We were already outside on the street when she stopped suddenly and looked at me. ‘Can I ask you something?’
‘Go ahead.’
‘Why did Favieros only have fifty-year-olds in his company. He could have taken on one or two young girls, who are dying to find work.’
‘Because he’d obviously hired all his old acquaintances from his years in the resistance.’ She stared at me speechless. ‘What are you looking at me for? The kids of police officers get preference in recruitment to the police academy. The kids of army officers get preference in recruitment to the cadet academy. And in Favieros’s company, preference was given to his comrades from the resistance. Never mind what the Philip of Macedon lot say, in Greece everyone takes care of his own.’
I didn’t seem to have convinced her, but she didn’t dare voice any objections.
13
Late that afternoon, I phoned Ghikas at home to find out if there had been any developments in the murder of the two Kurds. Not that I had changed my mind and believed that the murder was connected with Favieros’s suicide, but because something might have turned up in the investigation that would be useful to me.
‘Don’t expect anything,’ Ghikas told me.
‘Why?’
‘Because Yanoutsos is still looking for Mafiosos.’
‘It’s not the work of Mafiosos,’ I said categorically. ‘It’s what was announced: execution by nationalists belonging to that Philip of Macedon organisation.’
‘Try telling him.’
I was almost for telling him that it was his job to make him change his line of investigation, but I knew he was keeping quiet on purpose. He was letting him dig a hole for himself to fall into.
‘But I might have something new in a few days.’
‘How? Are you going to persuade Yanoutsos to look elsewhere?’
‘No, but I think I’ve found a way to dump the case on the Anti-terrorist Squad. Did you come up with anything new?’
I told him without going into detail about my visits to Favieros’s home, to his construction site and his offices.
‘So nothing suspicious?’ he asked me as though not believing it.
‘I told you. He was somewhat distant, lost his temper easily and shut himself in his office.’
‘Why? Why would a businessman like Favieros put himself into self-confinement when normally his day should be full of meetings and conferences? Ask me what I have to go through!’ he said, emphasising the last phrase and reminding me of the old Ghikas, who had only one point of reference: himself. But then, straightaway, he posed the very same question that had been bothering me: ‘Was there something unusual that had happened to Favieros? Why did he suddenly leave everything and withdraw into himself when, so it seems, he had no business or personal worries?’
I had no answer and so I confined myself to simply supplying him with a bit of information. ‘Koula had a quick look at the computer in his office, but she told me it needed more thorough investigation.’
‘You can trust her when it comes to those things. She’s a real wizard!’ He paused for a moment and then added: ‘And if someone from Favieros’s close circle wants to contact the police, give them my name and no one else’s.’
We hung up and, if nothing else, at least I had the satisfaction that he had given me a crutch to steady myself when I was stumbling in the dark.
Adriani was sitting in front of the TV, watching a game show. I wasn’t in the mood to hear her answer all the questions correctly and then listen to her moaning about all the millions she’d lost. I went into the bedroom to find Dimitrakos. I was stopped, however, by the sound of the doorbell and I went to see who it was. Fanis was standing at the door holding a paper bag in his hand and smiling. I imagined it must have been a little something for Adriani because he’d often bring her little gifts as a way of repaying her for all the cooking she did for him.
I was proved wrong, however, because he held the bag out to me. ‘Something from your daughter,’ he said.
‘From Katerina?’
‘Yes, a little gift.’
My surprise increased because Katerina was not in the habit of sending me gifts from Thessaloniki. She even saved money on the heating so as not to be a burden on me. I opened it straightaway and discovered a book with a cheap, garish cover, white, red and black, which reminded me of history books and resolutions by the Greek Communist Party. Its title was: Jason Favieros. From the Dungeons of the Military Police to the Salons of the Stock Exchange. The author was someone by the name of Minas Logaras and the name of the publisher was Sarantidis. I flicked through it mechanically and saw that it was 320 pages long.
I was not in the least surprised that some people were trying to exploit Favieros’s spectacular suicide. What did puzzle me, however, was how the author managed to write and publish a 320-page biography in the space of only ten days after Favieros’s suicide? Unless they had had it ready and were releasing it now. Just a coincidence? Perhaps, perhaps not.
‘When did this come out?’ I asked Fanis.
‘I don’t know. They’re advertising it though.’
‘And where did Katerina come across it?’
‘Katerina doesn’t only read dictionaries like you do,’ he said laughing and winking at me.
‘You’re wasting your breath, Fanis dear,’ Adriani chipped in. ‘Costas only concerns himself with small print. Fills his life with it.’
Actually, the small print referred to the dictionary entries I read, but this time she was using it in its wider sense, to include all the little problems, usually to do with work, that filled my time and removed me from her supervision.
I swallowed my anger because I didn’t want us to get into a row in front of Fanis. Though I didn’t admit it to myself, deep down I didn’t want him to think that his girlfriend had parents who went at it like cat and dog.