The Green Lady by Paul Johnston Read Free Book Online Page B

a man of habit. Except when he was covering cases, he occupied a corner table in
To Kazani
, a down-market taverna in a backstreet near Omonia Square. The place had no terrace or roof garden, so in summer it really lived up to its name: the Cauldron.
    Mavros pulled out a chair opposite the skinny, balding journalist. ‘Jesus, Lambi, how do you cope in here at this time of year?’
    â€˜As you see,’ he replied, pouring ouzo from a carafe and signalling for another glass and place setting. In front of him was a spread of aubergine salad, octopus with pasta, anchovies, and the taverna’s speciality, drunkard’s stew, containing pork, sausage and red wine.
    â€˜
Bekri-mezes
?’ Mavros said. ‘How appropriate.’
    â€˜I ordered it for you.’
    â€˜Uh-huh. There isn’t much left.’
    â€˜You know me – hungrier than a hyena.’
    Mavros dipped bread into the aubergine paste. ‘So, how have you been?’
    Bitsos took a slug of slightly diluted ouzo and smiled. ‘Socialising, are we?’
    â€˜If we were doing that, I’d have brought magazines.’
    The journalist lifted his battered briefcase. Underneath was a brown paper bag, the garish jackets of the triple-X publications he favoured poking out. ‘I’m already well supplied.’
    â€˜
Nazi Vampire Lesbians
? Jesus, Lambi, how low can you sink?’
    â€˜Very low indeed.’ Bitsos grinned. ‘Any sign of Niki?’
    â€˜Watch it,’ Mavros warned. ‘No.’
    â€˜Pity. I always fancied her.’
    â€˜The feeling wasn’t anywhere near mutual.’
    â€˜That’s what made it even more exciting.’
    Mavros gave him the eye. ‘How are your daughters?’
    â€˜All three of them on to their second husbands, as you very well know. I think Ritsa’s shagging around, as well.’
    â€˜You must be very proud. Do you want more to eat?’ He knew the answer. The journalist might have been skeletal, but he ate like a large quadruped. Mavros ordered another serving of wine-stewed pork and a slab of melted cheese. He also opted for the taverna’s own wine rather than its brain-melting ouzo.
    â€˜Busy?’ Bitsos asked.
    â€˜Sort of. You?’
    â€˜â€œSort of”, as in you need help from old Lambis?’ He laughed when Mavros nodded. ‘Me? Haven’t you noticed? With the Games on and the cops all over the city in force, the criminals are being good boys. They’ve put off killing each other to concentrate on fleecing the visitors.’
    â€˜I hear the Albanians and Serbs have imported hookers to cover the increase in demand.’
    â€˜True,’ the journalist said, making space for the new plates. ‘But they’re keeping a close watch on them and there have been no cat fights.’
    â€˜All of which means you must be at a major loose end.’
    â€˜Ah, now we get to it. You want me to drop everything and become your sidekick.’
    Mavros choked on a piece of sausage. After he’d recovered, he assured Bitsos that wasn’t the case. The idea of working in close proximity to the most notorious newspaper ghoul in Athens had little appeal. ‘No, I just need a pointer or two.’
    â€˜What’s in it for me?’
    Mavros laughed. ‘
Now
we get to it. The usual. Exclusive on the story when everything’s wrapped up.’
    Bitsos started to laugh, an unpleasant sound. ‘How many times have you promised me that and failed to deliver, Alex.’
    â€˜I gave you an inside angle on the Crete case.’
    â€˜True. That makes once.’
    Mavros knew he was on shaky ground, given the extreme confidentiality of Lia Poulou’s disappearance. ‘All right, I will say this. Even if the case is blacked out from above, I’ll tell you all about it. Knowledge is power, even if you can’t print it.’
    Bitsos finally finished eating. He mopped his brow with a paper napkin