The Green Lady by Paul Johnston Page A

At least Maria knows Lia’s missing.’
    â€˜Mrs Poulou,’ he said, enunciating her surname icily, ‘are you sure there isn’t anything significant you’ve omitted to tell me about Lia?’
    â€˜Yes, of course.’ Then his client stopped. ‘You understand that I can’t go into all my family’s business.’
    â€˜Anything potentially significant to her disappearance.’
    â€˜I don’t think so . . .’
    â€˜You’re sure she didn’t have a boyfriend.’
    â€˜Positive,’ Angie replied, without hesitation. ‘She wanted one, but she also wanted the right one. She’d definitely have told me.’
    â€˜All right. From the schedules you sent, I see she has very full days during term time. What about during the Easter holidays?’
    â€˜We went to London for a week, but I was with her almost the whole time, visiting friends and relatives, shopping, going to the cinema and so on. Then we were at the villa in Evia for the festivities, again with family and friends always around.’
    â€˜Did she spend a lot of time on her computer?’
    â€˜No more than any other fourteen year old.’
    â€˜Do you know what she did on it?’
    â€˜The usual sort of things, I think – the Sims game, fashion sites, music.’
    â€˜You
think
?’
    â€˜Well, I didn’t monitor her, apart from during homework time.’
    â€˜So she could have got involved with unsuitable people.’
    Angie Poulou sighed. ‘You think I haven’t considered that – boys, cults, porn, even paedophiles. But I doubt it. Lia’s an innocent fourteen, trust me.’
    Not any more, Mavros thought.
    â€˜Besides,’ she continued, ‘the police would have told us.’
    â€˜Would they? I imagine your husband knows Nikos Kriaras pretty well.’
    â€˜With the Games, you mean? Yes, of course.’
    â€˜And do you know him well?’
    There was a long enough pause to make him prick up his ears. ‘No, only from functions. Why?’
    â€˜I’m trying to build a picture.’
    â€˜That’s becoming obvious. Tell me, Mr Mavros, how well do
you
know Brigadier Kriaras?’
    â€˜We have history. If you want me to stay on this case, you’d better make sure he doesn’t find out about my involvement.’ It occurred to him that her husband might have had the phones near their home tapped. ‘Tell me that you’re using a public phone at least two kilometers from Ekali.’
    â€˜Don’t worry. I’m in Ayia Paraskevi. Paschos is doing a TV interview.’
    â€˜Don’t use the same phone again.’ He paused. ‘One last question. Where was your driver-bodyguard this afternoon?’
    â€˜I . . . I paid him and dropped him off in Kifissia centre.’
    â€˜Are you sure he won’t tell your husband?’
    â€˜As if Paschos would care. He’s got far too much on his mind.’
    â€˜So he wouldn’t be concerned that you were with Maria Bekakou and her husband?’
    â€˜I don’t think so.’
    â€˜And if Mr Bekakos tells him?’
    â€˜You’re barking up the wrong tree. Find some other way to get Lia back.’ Angie Poulou rang off.
    Mavros lay on his bed, tossing away the notebook in which he’d been scribbling as they talked. He’d often heard expressions involving canines and mistaken wooden growths from clients. They were almost always misleading.
    He’d seen how conspiratorial Maria Bekakou had looked, both with Kriaras and her husband. She was the nearest thing to a lead he had, not least because she had expressed something akin to hatred for the girl who had gone missing and because Rovertos had said there was too much at stake. Meaning what, exactly?

EIGHT
    B rigadier Nikos Kriaras stepped out of the helicopter at the far end of the ancient stadium at Delphi and walked towards the gaggle of uniformed personnel. It was