before. Thought they were private security wearing club tee shirts so not to look conspicuous. Happens all the time they said.”
“Anybody else work last night?”
“Yeah, I got their names and addresses. Thought I’d try to run them down now.”
“Okay, let me know.” Andreas hung up.
He waited a minute before buzzing Maggie to come in. She was by his desk in less than five seconds. “Yes, Chief.”
His voice was calm. “Maggie, why didn’t you tell me the Kostopoulos murder was all over TV?” There was no reason to ask whether she knew. There was no doubt that she did. The department’s secretarial gossip network must have gotten word to her within thirty seconds of it hitting the air.
She gave a motherly smile. “I did, even though you told me not to disturb you with anything but the urgent.”
“You didn’t think this was urgent?” His voice was still calm.
She shrugged. “Not really. There was nothing for you to do but get aggravated. Everything’s being handled by media affairs, and they didn’t ask to speak to you.”
He looked down at his desk. “And exactly how did you inform me?”
She leaned over his desk and hit the space bar on his computer keyboard bringing the screen back to life. Centered, within a message box, were the words, “If you’re interested, the Kostopoulos story is all over television.”
He hadn’t touched his computer in a while, ignoring every message ping. Andreas nodded and said, “Thank you.” He kept nodding for about ten seconds after she left. “ Damn it! ” he yelled, slamming his hand on the top of his desk and scattering the photos everywhere.
He needed to do something, anything, to get this case moving. He thought of paying a surprise visit on the Linardos household but then thought better of it. He picked up one of the photos and studied it for about a minute. Then put it down, stood up, and walked out of his office. Finding Anna Panitz might work. Assuming she still was alive.
Chapter 5
The area around Filis street was not a place you came to by accident. It was north of Omonia, and cops generally avoided it. Sure, there were worse neighborhoods, but this was Athens’ most notorious one for hookers and the parasites that fed off them. Here was where you came to find things the Bible forbade. That’s probably what gave the neighborhood its 24/7 popularity, and cops the attitude of hey , you knew what you were getting into when you came here, so don’t call us for help.
Andreas hoped he wouldn’t need to make that kind of call. He’d come with no backup, and only Kouros knew where he was. He convinced himself that was the best way of protecting her, assuming he found her. If the bad guys knew cops were looking for her, she probably wouldn’t live long. Assuming she wasn’t dead already.
He borrowed a cheap, beat-up motorbike from the department’s impound garage and wore the old jeans, work boots, and ubiquitous long-sleeve shirt of a laborer out for a good time. He wanted to look like any number of other horny guys trying to get laid.
Her last known address was in a dirty-yellow four-story concrete-slab architectural nightmare. It looked like one of those tenements you expect to see sitting on the outskirts of some third-world slum. Regrettably, they’d taken weed-like root in Athens and indelibly scarred parts of a city once compared in beauty to Paris.
He parked the motorbike across the street and a few doors down from her building. The street was packed with parked cars and motorcycles battered nearly as badly as his own. No one paid him much attention. Strangers frequented these streets. A couple of girls on a third-floor balcony of the building next to where he parked called out to him in broken Greek. He ignored them and walked as if he knew where he was going.
He stepped into the vestibule of the building, under the white light, and started climbing the concrete-slab steps. The address for the woman put the apartment on the
“Anybody else work last night?”
“Yeah, I got their names and addresses. Thought I’d try to run them down now.”
“Okay, let me know.” Andreas hung up.
He waited a minute before buzzing Maggie to come in. She was by his desk in less than five seconds. “Yes, Chief.”
His voice was calm. “Maggie, why didn’t you tell me the Kostopoulos murder was all over TV?” There was no reason to ask whether she knew. There was no doubt that she did. The department’s secretarial gossip network must have gotten word to her within thirty seconds of it hitting the air.
She gave a motherly smile. “I did, even though you told me not to disturb you with anything but the urgent.”
“You didn’t think this was urgent?” His voice was still calm.
She shrugged. “Not really. There was nothing for you to do but get aggravated. Everything’s being handled by media affairs, and they didn’t ask to speak to you.”
He looked down at his desk. “And exactly how did you inform me?”
She leaned over his desk and hit the space bar on his computer keyboard bringing the screen back to life. Centered, within a message box, were the words, “If you’re interested, the Kostopoulos story is all over television.”
He hadn’t touched his computer in a while, ignoring every message ping. Andreas nodded and said, “Thank you.” He kept nodding for about ten seconds after she left. “ Damn it! ” he yelled, slamming his hand on the top of his desk and scattering the photos everywhere.
He needed to do something, anything, to get this case moving. He thought of paying a surprise visit on the Linardos household but then thought better of it. He picked up one of the photos and studied it for about a minute. Then put it down, stood up, and walked out of his office. Finding Anna Panitz might work. Assuming she still was alive.
Chapter 5
The area around Filis street was not a place you came to by accident. It was north of Omonia, and cops generally avoided it. Sure, there were worse neighborhoods, but this was Athens’ most notorious one for hookers and the parasites that fed off them. Here was where you came to find things the Bible forbade. That’s probably what gave the neighborhood its 24/7 popularity, and cops the attitude of hey , you knew what you were getting into when you came here, so don’t call us for help.
Andreas hoped he wouldn’t need to make that kind of call. He’d come with no backup, and only Kouros knew where he was. He convinced himself that was the best way of protecting her, assuming he found her. If the bad guys knew cops were looking for her, she probably wouldn’t live long. Assuming she wasn’t dead already.
He borrowed a cheap, beat-up motorbike from the department’s impound garage and wore the old jeans, work boots, and ubiquitous long-sleeve shirt of a laborer out for a good time. He wanted to look like any number of other horny guys trying to get laid.
Her last known address was in a dirty-yellow four-story concrete-slab architectural nightmare. It looked like one of those tenements you expect to see sitting on the outskirts of some third-world slum. Regrettably, they’d taken weed-like root in Athens and indelibly scarred parts of a city once compared in beauty to Paris.
He parked the motorbike across the street and a few doors down from her building. The street was packed with parked cars and motorcycles battered nearly as badly as his own. No one paid him much attention. Strangers frequented these streets. A couple of girls on a third-floor balcony of the building next to where he parked called out to him in broken Greek. He ignored them and walked as if he knew where he was going.
He stepped into the vestibule of the building, under the white light, and started climbing the concrete-slab steps. The address for the woman put the apartment on the
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