The Green Lady by Paul Johnston

die. And if what he’d just done didn’t frighten them, he didn’t know what would – though he had no doubt he could think of something.
    The Son slipped back the way he’d come, stepping over the parts of his victim. If he was lucky, he’d be in time to pick up a foreign woman in one of the late night bars. He had a preference for Scandinavians. They were less shocked by his demands than most.
    Mavros was lying on his bed, a fan blasting cold air over him. Although it was past midnight, the temperature was still in the high twenties and he was suffering. His Scottish genes had never been able to cope with killer heat, just as his Greek ones had taken to four years of Edinburgh weather like a duck to confit. The Fat Man was still in front of the TV, watching a dull American cop show that he claimed enabled him to know his enemy better.
    At first Mavros didn’t realise his phone was ringing – he’d put it on vibrate mode when he was tailing Maria Bekakou. He didn’t recognise the Athens number on the screen.
    â€˜Oh, hello, you know who this is.’
    â€˜Yes,’ he confirmed. Avoiding the use of names was sensible, though he assumed his client wasn’t at home.
    â€˜Have you got anything for me?’
    â€˜Not yet,’ Mavros replied. ‘Let me turn the question back at you.’
    There was a pause. ‘What do you mean?’
    Mavros decided to keep her in the dark initially. ‘How close are you to Maria Bekakou?’
    â€˜She’s . . . she’s a good friend.’
    â€˜You don’t sound too sure.’
    â€˜Well . . . after Lia disappeared on Maria’s watch, so to speak, Paschos and I decided to put some space between them and us.’
    Mavros kept silent. Very few people could resist the urge to talk when they were lying.
    â€˜You know, it seemed best. I don’t know if you’re aware, but Maria’s husband Rovertos does a lot of legal work for Paschos.’
    He decided to probe. ‘And Maria? Is she a lawyer too?’
    Angie Poulou laughed softly. ‘No, she has a shoe shop in Kolonaki.’
    â€˜Would I know it?’
    â€˜I’ve no idea. Are you interested in women’s footwear?’
    â€˜As a matter of fact, yes.’ The pretence made him smile.
    â€˜Oh. It’s called Heel and Toe, on Loukianou.’
    He knew it as his mother’s flat was only a few minutes’ walk further up the hill.
    â€˜So were you talking about shoes when you visited Mrs Bekakou this afternoon?’
    â€˜How do you . . .?’ His client broke off. ‘Have you been following me?’
    â€˜No,’ he said, leaving her to work out how he knew. ‘What were you doing for over two hours with someone you’ve pulled away from?’
    â€˜I don’t like being interrogated, Mr Mavros.’
    â€˜And I don’t like being given the run-around. Here’s why I want to know what you and Mrs Bekakou were talking about. An hour or so before you went to her place, she had a meeting with Police Brigadier Nikos Kriaras. I take it you know him.’
    â€˜Of course. He’s in charge of the search for Lia. But why . . . why would Maria be meeting him? She didn’t mention it.’
    â€˜I subsequently heard her tell her husband that Kriaras said he was waiting for further developments. And also that your husband said he’d pay double. Are you aware of any of this?’
    â€˜No! No, I don’t understand.’
    Mavros decided to spare her Maria Bekakou’s characterization of the female he presumed was Lia as a stupid little bitch who deserved what she got.
    â€˜Could you answer my question, please?’
    â€˜Which one?’
    â€˜What did you and Mrs Bekakou talk about when you were at her house?’
    â€˜Oh, nothing of any importance. Honestly. It’s true what I said about Paschos wanting me to keep away from them, but I don’t have anyone else to talk to.