On the first floor, I found myself facing three closed doors. The first one opened onto a cold, impersonal room with a double bed, an armchair with a low back and a shelf with books. It was evidently the guest room. The next door revealed a gymnasium complete with bars, bicycle and running machine. I tried my luck at the third door and found Fanis holding a girl’s wrist and taking her pulse. The girl heard the door opening and turned towards me. She was dark-haired with dark mauve lipstick and dark mauve nails. She was wearing a red top with shoulder straps, which left her shoulders and navel bare, and beige slacks. From what I knew, Vakirtzis was fifty-five, so there must have been a good twenty-five years between them as she couldn’t have been over thirty.
Fanis came up to me and whispered in my ear. ‘She’s come round a bit, but don’t overdo it.’ And he left the two of us alone.
I sat down on the edge of the bed. The girl followed me with her gaze as though hypnotised. ‘I’m Inspector Haritos,’ I said. ‘I don’t want to tire you, but I need to ask you a few questions.’
She made no reply, but continued to follow me with that same gaze. I assumed she understood what I was saying and went on:
‘Had you noticed anything unusual in Vakirtzis’s behaviour lately?’
‘Such as?’
‘I don’t know… was he irritable… did he suddenly lose his temper… was he prone to shouting?’
‘Yes, but it wasn’t unusual… he was always abrupt and prone to shouting… then he would quickly forget everything and be all lovey-dovey.’
‘Was anything worrying him… some trouble perhaps?’
A faint smile came to her lips. ‘Apostolos never had any worries. Other people had worries because of him.’
I wasn’t certain whether she meant the people he savaged on his shows or herself. Probably she meant both.
‘So he didn’t give you the impression that he was about to commit suicide.’
‘Apostolos?’ The faint smile turned into a bitter laugh. ‘What can I say?’
I concluded that things weren’t too good between them, but that was of little interest to me. ‘So you hadn’t noticed anything unusual in his behaviour lately?’
‘None whatsoever.’ She paused momentarily as though reflecting. ‘Unless…’
‘What?’
‘During recent weeks, he would spend hours on end shut up in his study in front of his computer.’
Just like Favieros. The same scenario was repeating itself and I was a real twerp for not investigating the case of Stefanakos to find out whether perhaps he had done the same. That was one of the difficult aspects of carrying out unofficial investigations while on sick leave: you don’t dare turn up to see whomever you want, whenever you want.
‘Didn’t he spend much time in his study normally?’
‘He didn’t spend even one hour. Apostolos had everything. A study that covered the entire top floor with computers, printers, scanners, internet connection, everything. But he didn’t use any of it. He only had it because his friends and colleagues had it. He couldn’t bear for others to have something that he didn’t. He was envious. Until lately, when he really did shut himself up there in front of his computer.’
‘Didn’t you ask him what he was doing?’
‘Whenever I asked him, he always replied that he was working, regardless of whether at that moment he was watering the garden or watching a match on TV and swearing at the referee.’
I realised that I wasn’t going to learn anything more so I left her to recover. I went out of the room and made my way up to the third floor. There were no doors at all there. It was an open space with a desk, a TV with a huge screen and various other machines. Scattered all around were loudspeakers of different sizes and a couch with a coffee table facing the TV.
On top of his desk was all of the equipment that the girl had listed for me just previously. What surprised me was that there was not a single book to be seen anywhere in the study, just a few magazines piled on the coffee table in front of the couch. Even I had four bookshelves on the wall, albeit in the bedroom. Vakirtzis didn’t have one.
There were three drawers on the left-hand side of the desk. I opened them one by one. The first was full of empty notepads and a variety of ballpoint pens. The second was of more interest because it was crammed with cassettes. I made a note to have someone come to collect them and take them to the lab. I tried to open the third drawer but it was locked. I bent down and saw that it had a security lock. We would have to get hold of the key, though I wasn’t sure, even in a case of suicide, whether we had the right to investigate. If not, we would have to find a way to get permission from the legal heirs and I had no idea who they were. It certainly wasn’t Rena. She was one of those victims who live with much older men, spend a few great years with them and then end up left in the lurch and penniless.
As I was walking back down the terrace steps, I bumped into Sotiropoulos. ‘Nothing here for me,’ he said to me resentfully, as if I were to blame. ‘They’d already taken the body away and most of the guests were gone. Fotaki got here first and she got all the interviews. How did she find out?’ he looked at me suspiciously.
‘From an anonymous phone call. Someone said that there would be surprises at Vakirtzis’s party.’
He thought about it and whistled in amazement ‘So you mean that…’
‘Exactly. He sent the biography to me and informed the channel that had screened the previous suicides.’
I started to walk away towards Fanis, who was sitting in a chair waiting for me, but Sotiropoulos grabbed me by the arm.
‘There’s no way you’re going,’ he said. ‘I have to get something out of this story too.’
‘And you expect me to give you something?’ I was ready to explode but that didn’t daunt him at all.
‘Yes. I want you to tell me about the biography. How did you get hold of it and how did you get here so quickly? I’m not saying you’ll turn up trumps because I know what a crank you are and you might say no.’
I would turn up trumps, but not for the reason he imagined. If I talked, I would compromise Yanoutsos and those supporting him irrevocably. After all, I wasn’t there on duty. I was on sick leave and had been replaced by someone else. If I had to, I could say that I had phoned Security Headquarters, been unable to find Ghikas and so had rushed there myself to try to prevent the suicide.
‘All right. I’ll tell you,’ I said to Sotiropoulos. ‘But you won’t ask me if I was carrying out investigations here or what I came up with, because I’m obliged to report all that back at Headquarters.’
He stared at me, evidently thinking I was joking. He held the microphone to my mouth waiting for me to spill the beans. But I began to relate the whole story, from the moment that the envelope was delivered to my house to the time I arrived at Vakirtzis’s estate. With every word I added, his smile got bigger as though he were experiencing the crazy rise of the stock market minute by minute.
When I had finished, he shook my hand for the first time in his life. ‘Thanks. You’re a good sort,’ he said.
I made no comment and went over to Fanis, who had got to his feet.
‘Did you come up with anything?’ he asked me.
‘Same symptoms as Favieros. Lately, he’d taken to shutting himself in his study in front of his computer. I found a drawer in his desk with a security lock, but I couldn’t find the key.’
This time, we took the route that went through Stamata. It was after midnight and the traffic in Kifissias Avenue had thinned out.
‘So, that’s an end to your sick leave,’ Fanis said suddenly.
I stared at him in surprise. ‘Why? What makes you say that?’
‘Because all the silly nonsense about thugs and right-wing extremists has gone out of the window and things will start to get serious.’
I didn’t know whether things were starting to get serious. But, one thing was for sure, Petroulakos’s expression showed just how difficult it would be for them to pin this suicide too on the Philip of Macedon organisation.