Deadline in Athens Read Free Page A

you have anything to tell us" or "What can you tell us," in order to make you feel that you were being examined and graded. He believed, you see, that he represented the conscience of the people, and the conscience of the people treated everyone equally: no name or sign of respect, courtesies that only lead to distinctions between citizens. And his eyes were always fixed on you, wary and ready to denounce you at any moment. A modern-day Robespierre with a camera and a microphone.

    I ignored him and addressed myself to them all as a body. If he wanted equality, he'd have it. "I have nothing to tell you," I said genially. "We're still interrogating the suspect."
    They looked at me in disappointment. A tiny, freckled woman wearing red stockings tried to get something more out of me, refusing to go down without a fight.
    "Do you have any evidence that he's the murderer?" she said.
    "I told you, we're still interrogating him," I said again, and to let them know that the interview was over, I picked up the croissant that Thanassis had brought me, removed the cellophane, and bit into it.
    They began packing away their paraphernalia, and my office recovered its normal appearance, like the patient who, once out of danger, is unhooked from the machines.
    Yanna Karayoryi was the last to leave. She hung back deliberately and allowed the others to go out. I disliked her even more than all the rest of them. For no particular reason. She couldn't have been more than thirty-five and was always dressed elegantly without being showy. Wide trousers, cardigan, with an expensive chain and cross around her neck. I don't know why, but I had got it into my head that she was a lesbian. She was a good-looking woman, but her short hair and her style of dressing gave her something of a masculine appearance. Now she was standing beside the door. She glanced outside to see that the others had gone, and then closed it. I went on eating my croissant as if I hadn't noticed that she was still in my office.
    "Do you know whether the murdered couple had any children?" she said.

    I turned, surprised. Her arrogant gaze was where it always was, and she was smiling at me ironically. That's what irritated me: those meaningless questions that she suddenly came out with and that she underlined with an ironic smile to make you think that she knew something more but wasn't going to tell you, just to annoy you. In fact, she knew nothing, she just liked to fish.
    "Do you think there were children there and we didn't notice them?"
    "Maybe they weren't there when you got there."
    "What do you want me to say? If they sent them to study in America, we haven't located them, not yet at any rate," I said.
    "I'm not talking about grown-up children. I'm talking about babies," she answered. "Two years old at most."
    She did know something, and it was amusing her to play with me. I decided to go easy, be friendly, try to win her over. I pointed to the chair in front of my desk.
    "Why don't you sit down and let's talk," I said.
    "Can't. I have to get back to the studio. Another time." She was all of a sudden in a hurry. The bitch wanted to leave me wondering.
    As she was opening the door to leave, she bumped into Thanassis, who was coming in at that moment with a document. They exchanged a look, and Karayoryi smiled at him. Thanassis averted his gaze, but Karayoryi kept hers fixed provocatively on him. She seemed fond of him. Truth to tell, she had every right to because Thanassis was a good-looking fellow. Tall, dark, well built. It occurred to me to get him to establish a relationship with her. That way he'd be able to answer both of my questions: whether she did, in fact, know anything about the Albanians and was hiding it from me, and whether she was a lesbian.
    She waved to me, ostensibly saying good-bye, but actually it was as if she were saying, "Sit there and stew, you dummy." She closed the door behind her. Thanassis came over and handed me the document.
    "The coroner's