Che Committed Suicide by Petros Márkaris Read Free Book Online Page B

gravely.
    ‘Nevertheless, something doesn’t fit.’
    ‘What?’
    ‘The public suicide. Why would Favieros commit suicide in front of the cameras?’
    Ghikas shrugged his shoulders. ‘Are you looking for logic in someone who’s decided to put an end to his life?’
    ‘People like Favieros usually avoid the spotlights,’ I insisted. ‘They do everything discreetly. That’s why I’m surprised.’
    ‘Listen Haritos,’ said Yanoutsos, chipping in again. ‘We’re pleased to see that you’re well, but the Chief and I were in the middle of an extremely important departmental matter and you interrupted us.’
    I didn’t have time to be taken aback by his nerve because Ghikas got to his feet, as if he had been waiting for his cue, and held out his hand. ‘I’m very pleased to see you well, Costas,’ he said. ‘Stop by again and we’ll have a chat.’
    They want to get rid of me, I thought to myself. They can’t wait to see the back of me. I shook Ghikas’s hand, turned and walked out without saying a word.
    ‘How do you rate Yanoutsos?’ I asked Koula in order to calm down
    ‘He’s ill-mannered and always ready to pass the buck,’ was the immediate reply. ‘It’s not enough that he behaves like a boor, he’s always trying to hang all his mistakes, which are at least a dozen a day, on me.’
    ‘Be patient, Koula, it’s only two months, they’ll pass quickly.’
    ‘Amen to that!’ she said, laughing.
    Despite Koula’s comments, my anger still hadn’t abated. I stood in Dimitsanas Street, in front of the church of Aghios Savvas, and waited for a taxi, but to find a taxi in the centre of Athens at two in the afternoon you have to have gone through special training. My schooling was only basic so other people grabbed the taxis from under my nose before I even had time to talk to the driver. After much ado I finally managed to grab one myself, I was ready to explode. The moment I sat in the front seat, I realised I’d chanced upon the rule rather than the exception, in other words, on the music-loving taxi driver who has his radio on constantly at full blast. My nerves gave way at the corner of Michalakopoulou and Spryrou Merkouri Streets, when a female voice started singing: We’re getting on so well, I’m starting to hear bells .
    ‘Shut the damn thing off and honk the horn so we can get through the traffic!’ I said to the driver.
    He turned and looked at me with that arrogant expression that taxi drivers have. ‘Why, are you ill? You don’t look ill to me.’
    I stuck my police ID in his face. ‘I’m a police inspector and I’m on official business. And your radio is interfering with my CB. Turn it off and honk the horn or I’ll hand you over to the first patrol car we meet and you’ll lose your licence for six months.’
    He did exactly what I said without a second thought. He drove like a kamikaze pilot and within two minutes we were at the corner of Aristikleous Street. I asked him how much the fare was.
    ‘Never mind about it, Inspector. I’d rather you let me have your name,’ he said as though he were planning to invite me out. ‘You never know, it might come in handy some time.’
    I flung three euros onto the seat and slammed the car door behind me.
    ‘Where have you been all this time, dear?’ Adriani asked, with a worried look.
    ‘Omonoia Square. I missed the illegal immigrants.’
    She saw my expression and understood that it was useless to go on. ‘Let’s go and eat,’ she said.
    As soon as I took the first bite of my plate of stuffed vegetables, I felt better and my anger evaporated as if by a miracle.
    ‘Tastes delicious, Adriani! That’s the best present you could have given me today,’ I said, full of enthusiasm.
    ‘Oh come on, you don’t have to lie. They’re short on onion, like I said.’
    I took a second bite and held it in my mouth to allow my taste buds to do their work. There was so much we were short on, I wasn’t going to complain about the