Vassilis didn’t manage to get the killer off completely, but as it was a crime of passion he only got eight years, which with good behaviour and a stay in an open prison was shortened to four. And Vassilis was bewitched by the girl he had cross-examined thoroughly, so much so that he asked her round for a meal at his place, just hours after the end of the trial. She obviously turned out to be even more bewitching, given that in the two years’ relationship that followed, he showered her with gifts and paid for the plastic surgery that transformed her from an average-looking girl into the beautiful creature I had seen dead in Aliki’s car. Never mind the few videos of her soap opera scenes on YouTube, which confirmed her impressive lack of any acting skills.
She wasn’t bewitching enough for Vassilis to forgive her when he returned unexpectedly to the flat he had recently bought for her and found her riding a well-stacked young male model who had turned actor overnight and was now starring in another well-known soap opera.
“At least she stayed true to her soap operas,” I said to Drag.
“Worshipped them and everyone starring in them. And she didn’t hide it. Everything Regoudis told me about her previous relationships, he had found out from her. She was very open with him from the beginning, he said.”
“Very open… I’m sure. And what he heard didn’t bother him?…”
“Not at all. His Greek staff confirmed that – Regoudis was right; they weren’t trustworthy, they came running to me to inform on him. He can’t be the best of bosses. Only the Romanian guy didn’t say anything at all. Anyway, they all agreed that once Regoudis had Elsa as his lover, he was confident she wouldn’t go for anyone else. Why should she get mixed up with young actors when she had the producer between her thighs?”
“For the same reason that she got mixed up with young actors when she had Vassilis.”
“No. For her it was all about getting into and staying in showbiz. Vassilis didn’t have the connections to further her career. And he had banned her from posing naked to promote herself by showing off her newly acquired face and body. She actually believed he was holding her back, artistically.”
“He doesn’t like his women to show themselves off. He also stopped Aliki from modelling. Wasn’t his previous relationship with Elsa widely known, though? Didn’t they go around together?”
“No secret, according to Regoudis. Many references to them in the press, and a few photographs of them together, published again and again ’cause the magazines couldn’t find any others. This agrees with the information I got that Vassilis was publicity-shy until he met and married Aliki.”
“But since the relationship was known, the journalists will soon discover that one of Vassilis’ former lovers has been found murdered in his wife’s car.”
“Relatively soon.”
“Why ‘relatively’?”
“It’s not a new story. It’s been almost eight years since our friend separated from Elsa. Even when they’ve found out her real name, it’ll take a while before they connect her with the girl who once dated Vassilis. She had even more plastic surgery done after the separation. If you see photographs of her before and after, Elsa doesn’t much resemble the girl she used to be.”
Drag got out two photos and showed them to me. Elsa looked nothing like her old self. But she did resemble Aliki. Regoudis, the producer, confirmed that Aliki was for Elsa an icon of perfect beauty and she really wanted to look like her. She had succeeded. She resembled her enough for the killers to be mistaken and murder her instead of Aliki. But how had she got in Aliki’s car? And had the killers really made a mistake? Or could Elsa’s murder have been another attempt to terrorize Aliki? Was it really coincidental that Elsa kept on with the plastic surgery to look like the new spouse of her ex?
“But they’ll get there,” Drag said. “Although she had officially changed her name, she put her parents’ names on all her papers. You just have to phone them to get them effing and blinding at her. I know. I tried.”
“And, somehow, this little detail that will become the talk of the town slipped Vassilis’ memory both times he talked to us. Any ideas why?”
“None whatsoever. He also told us that he never had a relationship that lasted longer than a few months.”
“Maybe for him twenty-four is a few.”
“Maybe. Or maybe we should go and ask him a few more questions,” Drag said.
“Are you sure? What about Makis?” I asked, putting on a show of fear.
Drag rarely smiles, and I really love it that I’m one of the few who can make him do so.
27
“Aren’t we going to discuss how we’re going to question him?” Drag asked as he parked outside Vassilis’ house.
“Aren’t we better without rehearsals?”
“Usually not.”
“And you’ve just thought of it?” I said.
“You were on the phone all this time.”
That was almost true. I was on the phone for most of the journey. I kept trying to get in touch with Aliki – sometimes her phone had no signal, making me hope that I would finally find her, but a few seconds later, the phone was switched off. Greek mobile operators. Service guaranteed. Drag could ask the public prosecutor to authorize the phone company to tell the police where Aliki was when she turned on her phone again. The first problem was that, with Greek bureaucracy, the whole process would take at least ten days. The second and more important problem was that, along with information on Aliki’s location, the phone company would supply a list of calls to and from that particular phone over the last few months. Which meant that Teri’s number would appear in the list, and we would have to persuade her to get rid of her SIM card to avoid getting traced and receiving a nice visit from the cops. Persuading her wasn’t going to be easy. Her number was very popular in night-time Athens, where the needs of the flesh outweigh any financial crisis. Teri’s yelling, if we told her to change it, would be heard from one end of the Attica Basin to the other. Drag and I agreed to let that rest for a few days in the hope of finding another way to locate Aliki.
During my unsuccessful attempts to phone Aliki I felt some kind of a bad premonition. I didn’t know if it was about Aliki or us – Drag, Maria, Teri and me. My premonitions had never turned out true, something that only increased my anxiety that for the first time they would. I didn’t have time to give it much thought, as a light suddenly dazzled Drag from behind. It wasn’t a blaze of sunlight, as sullen clouds covered the city. We were in King Paul Avenue, behind the Asclepius Hospital, and for some time we had been ignoring the 70 mph speed limit and motoring around 120. Drag skidded to a halt, and the young policeman who’d been chasing us got out of his car wearing a blue raincoat two sizes too small for him. Slipping the safety off his gun, he shone his torch in Drag’s face and asked to see his licence and insurance. Before Drag could even open his mouth the kid’s cocky expression became one of awe.
“Oh! You are… you,” he stammered.
At first Drag didn’t know how to reply.
“Who else would I be?” he answered at last.
“You… you are… I saw you on television. You are the one who… has taken on the big case.”
“I’m the one you flagged down.”
“I didn’t know, sir… I… that is… I’m sorry, I… carry on, please… sorry…”
The kid was still stuttering when Drag restarted the engine. I stuck my head out of the window to smell the sea. I couldn’t see it, but I knew, I sensed that it was there – glad of the morning rain that was keeping it company. Everyone has their own idea about which of the senses is most important, the one they just couldn’t live without. For me it’s smell. You can learn to bear a lot of things. Seeing the concrete jungle of Athens stretch to the horizon and climb the burnt hills like some kind of poison ivy. Hearing horns sounding non-stop, accompanied by the constant swearing of drivers. Finding on your clothes, hands, face and hair the filth of the traffic. Watching the triple-parked Mercedes stay unmolested in the
town centre while the police, across the street, are booking some poor worker on a Vespa for not wearing a helmet. But your sense of smell is there to safeguard you. To lift your feelings on those rare occasions when you get the chance to inhale the sea air or the scent of the person who loves you. Drag often reads the reviews to find out about good new detective novels. Riffling through a magazine one day he discovered that a famous Mexican writer, Guillermo Arriaga, lost his sense of smell at the age of thirteen on account of being punched repeatedly in the face. I don’t know why, in general, people become authors, and from what they say when asked, they probably don’t know themselves. But I think I know about Guillermo Arriaga, and I told Drag. That guy writes to smell the life around him.
“If his answers sound convincing, have you decided whether you’ll accept Vassilis’ proposal?” Drag said as we sat in the car outside Vassilis’ house.
“I’ll accept.”
He didn’t ask me why. Drag trusts me. It’s enough for him to know my decision. If he had asked me, I couldn’t have told him the precise reason, as I still wasn’t sure who was telling the truth and who the lies. I would have had to find a way of explaining how a gorgeous, rich and successful woman seemed to me the weakest, unhappiest person I’d ever met, behind her faultless smile. Vassilis’ proposal was attractive because it gave me a stake in the case involving his wife and a financial reason for accepting it, so that I wouldn’t feel that I was violating my own professional rules. I had already filled in the amount on the lawyer’s blank cheque. A hundred thousand euros. Without giving the name of the recipient. I would give him back the piece of paper just so he’d know what he would owe at the end. When Aliki’s hunters had been rounded up. That was the real reason I’d accept: to take care of them, whoever they might be. And if one of them turned out to be Vassilis himself, I’d take care of him as well and take the money from Aliki, keeping his 30,000-euro deposit in return for deceiving me. But why should he deceive me? What did he have to gain? If he knew that I’d be after him, why not get Makis to off me when he had the chance? And if Vassilis was innocent, what was Aliki’s mental state, how much help did she need? Now that she’d disappeared again, my best bet was to find the murderers of Elsa Dalla. Given that they had a tendency to turn anyone in their way into a sieve, 30,000 euros seemed like small consolation.
Drag got out of the Nissan and rang Vassilis’ bell. The rain had died away to a gentle drizzle. Drag hitched up his appalling coat. A security camera flashed in his face and he waited patiently for whoever was behind the screen to look him over. It was, after all, only 6.50 a.m. – not the best time for making a visit. On the other hand, if your wife has disappeared and you fear for her life, it was as good a moment as any to allow someone in who was going to help find her. The wait lengthened. Drag and I exchanged glances. I knew what he was thinking. He wanted answers to his questions and he wanted them straight away. But if the gate didn’t open he would have no option but to leave and return with a warrant. Our shared thoughts were interrupted by the most pleasant sound we could have heard. The security door trundled open and Drag leapt into the Nissan and drove furiously up the drive.
I was struck by the fact that the Rottweiler was nowhere to be seen or heard – whereas when we’d been there before it had let us know it was around. Nobody was waiting to greet us at the top of the wide marble steps that led to the front entrance – not even Makis. We got out of the car cautiously, in case the dog should appear, and went towards the steps. There, on the bottom step, we saw the first specks of blood. Not just one. Whoever had climbed those steps was bleeding heavily. At the top there was a big puddle of blood, in front of the door, which was open. I remembered that behind the door was a small hall, which led to the living room where we had spent that cosy evening with Vassilis and Makis. The hall was in darkness. The house was totally silent. It’s incredible how much noise silence can make inside you, when it wants to. Even if you’ve lived through a hundred such silences, as Drag and I have, each time is like the first. Drag and I automatically, without saying anything, dropped down and crawled towards the door from opposite directions. In dangerous situations strength isn’t in unity but in separateness. Split your team. Create many fronts. Confuse the enemy. We didn’t know if we had an enemy and dangerous conditions to confront, but we needed to be ready. Drag aimed a kick at the door and it opened further. Still no sound from within.
“Stathopoulos!” Drag shouted.
“Shouldn’t it be ‘Stathopoule’?” I asked, being the better grammarian.
“You’re a cretin,” he murmured.
I’d been called worse.
“Police! Open up!” Drag shouted.
It seemed funny to me that he was shouting “police” with me next to him. It also seemed funny that he said “Open up!” when the door was already open. Not wanting to annoy him further, I kept quiet. Drag gestured that he was going in. He dived inside, not elegantly but effectively, as he got behind the nearest sofa without exposing himself as a target. He slowly raised his head, looked around, heard something and jumped up.
“Someone’s getting out at the back!” he shouted, running through the house.
Drag never lets me know what move he’s going to make next. He dives or runs like a maniac before I know what’s going on. Our successes as a team owe more to our individual abilities and our willingness to look out for each other, than to our organizational skills.
I went into the living room ready for anything, but there was no one there. I ran to give Drag back-up, but by the time I’d reached the back door he was already turning around again, furious.
“I heard the car wheels skidding but by the time I got there it had gone – didn’t even get a glimpse of it,” he hissed.
“Vassilis?”
“Seems likely. But why wouldn’t he want to see us?”
“Maybe he’s worked out that we’ve found out about the things he forgot to tell us,” I said, although I was pretty sure by now that Vassilis could offer a plausible explanation for anything.
“So what? You think he’s worried I’m going to arrest him for concealing evidence? He could just not open the door. It just doesn’t add up, Stratos.”
“What does? Let’s take a look at the blood outside.”
“Yeah, it’s…”
We had gone back to the living room when Drag broke off. I followed his look. We’d missed it when we ran through before. In the dark we hadn’t noticed where the blood was leading. And though we’d both looked around, neither of us had looked up. Up high. The west end of the room ended in a glass window that went right up to the ceiling. You could stretch out on the sofa and gaze at the universe. A majestic sight, as long as there was nothing to disturb you. Such as Makis, hanging from the huge chandelier like a slaughtered animal, eyes wide open in terror.
28
Under the chandelier the blood had pooled in the shape of a crown, a huge circular stain encircled by many smaller ones. That’s how it always is when blood falls from a height: you learn such things from hours in the field, and from talking to pathologists and forensic experts. Though my knowledge was not enough to explain why Makis’ face and forehead were covered with symbols like hieroglyphs, written in lipstick.
Obviously, Makis was beyond help. But how the hell did he get up there? Who had managed to lift him and spike him on one of the big hooks sticking out of his back? And why go to so much trouble? It looked like a murder with a message, but what message did the hieroglyphs convey? The only link between everything that was going on was Vassilis himself, but he was incommunicado – Drag immediately tried calling him, but his mobile was turned off. If he wasn’t around, who had opened the door to let us in, and why?
We found the Rottweiler covered in blood in a corner of the garden. Judging by the size of the wounds, it must have been blasted by a shotgun. Like Makis who, in addition to the hook in his back, had two gaping holes in his stomach. The rain started again. It lashed Drag’s car as we drove to the A
sclepius Piazza to find me a taxi before Drag returned to Vassilis’ house and called his fellow cops… He told me he was hoping to find Vassilis and get some answers. I wasn’t so optimistic. I saw a sick symmetry in the pattern of events: Aliki meets me to hire my services – Stathopoulos does the same; the macabre murder of Dalla in Aliki’s car – the macabre murder of Makis in Vassilis’ house; Aliki’s mobile phone turned off – Stathopoulos’ mobile phone turned off. Aliki’s disappearance told me that Vassilis was going to disappear too. And with him my 100,000 euros fee. They’d both promised me money then broken off contact with me, one after the other. I had to find one of them, at least. I had to get a handle on this case, some facts that actually made sense. Not just for my sake, but also for Drag’s – if my hunch was right and Vassilis had just disappeared, the pressure on Drag would be unbearable.
I had a few plans in mind.
29
She chose the place and time of our meeting. She was a lark, rather than an owl, she said, by way of explanation for fixing our rendezvous at eleven the next morning. Most of the larks I knew would be getting sleepy by eleven. We met in the top floor of the “Flocafé” in Stadiou Street, above Syntagma Square, an ideal place for such assignations: solitary enough for you not to be seen by the hordes of people who swarm in the streets all around and yet with enough customers to give you some cover. I was already drinking my espresso, reading a financial newspaper, which was warning yet again of the risk of the “sudden death” of the Greek economy if the government backed down on the new reforms that the Europeans demanded. I was wondering how this sudden death would affect my fees. Its slow painful death over the past few years hadn’t affected me in the least, so I was about to conclude there would be no difference, when she arrived, twenty minutes late. Like Aliki. No doubt it was routine in their circle. I recognized her from a photo Teri had showed me. I stood up to attract her attention.
Athenian Blues Page 10