“I knew they’d bring someone in,” Ed Burke said, the pouches under his eyes pulled taut, anxious. “They think one of us did it.”
“Nobody said that, Ed. They just asked me to go over the books.”
“But they think it. Why not promote Phil?”
Leon shrugged.
“And why is Frank still here?”
“He’s going back to Ankara. What’s the problem, Ed? They didn’t ask me to go over your books,” Leon said slyly, almost a tease.
“Just Tommy’s. All right, don’t tell me.”
“Ed, how long have you known me?”
“It’s just a funny time for an audit.” He looked down at the folder in Leon’s hand. “The embargo list? That’s during the war. How far back are you going?”
“Just getting to know the files. People have different systems. I still don’t understand the expense claims. You don’t have just one?”
“Depends who’s authorizing the money. The consulate, use the white forms. If it’s direct from Washington, they have to go by pouch. The yellow ones.”
“But it all gets paid out of the same office here.”
Ed nodded. “Welcome to the US Government.”
Leon got up and went over to the wall of file cabinets, pulling out a few more folders.
“You think it’s one of them? Somebody he turned down?”
“I don’t think anything yet,” Leon said, looking down at the file, then back up, a new thought. “Anyway, you said it was someone here.”
“I said they thought so. Why else would the police be here?”
“Still?”
“All morning. Right through the consulate. ‘Where were you-?’ Alibis.”
“Did you have one?”
“Very funny.”
“Come on, Ed. It’s just routine. To talk to coworkers.”
“It gives you the creeps. Thinking it’s someone here. Walking down the hall or something, and you don’t have any idea.”
Leon looked at him, not saying anything.
An hour later, Frank called him into his office to meet Detective Gulun, a heavyset man in a gray suit, shiny at the cuffs, with what seemed to be a permanent five o’clock shadow. By that time Leon had had the filing system explained by Tommy’s secretary and had gone through every drawer, looking for anything not officially connected to Commercial Corp. But Tommy had evidently taken that part of his cover seriously-his other work had never existed, at least on paper. There were only a few personal items in the desk drawers, a datebook, check stubs, the white expense chits, breath mints, anybody’s desk. The bottom drawer was locked but shallow, just enough room for a bottle for an after-work drink. Would he keep records at home, vulnerable to theft? There had to be something. Maybe coded within the other files, memos that meant something else, trails that would take weeks to unravel. Money, however, was always accounted for. Tommy had paid his outside people. It had to come from somewhere.
“I told Detective Gulun that you were helping us.”
Leon nodded. “Anything yet?” he asked Gulun, who seemed startled by the question, defensive. A murder in the European community, the last thing any policeman would want. Angry diplomats demanding answers, calls from Ankara, people you weren’t supposed to intimidate. That was Altan’s world, full of resources and foreigners. Gulun was the kind of policeman more comfortable with car thieves in Taksim.
“Some witnesses in the cafe.”
“Witnesses?”
“The car only. Unfortunately too dark to identify.”
“But a car, not a taxi?” Leon said. “That narrows it a little, doesn’t it? Someone who can afford to run a car. With the gas shortages. I haven’t taken mine out in months.”
A diversion, Gulun eager to take it.
“As you say. Someone who can afford. Maybe black market connections.” Taking it even further away.
“You’ve talked to people here?” Leon asked.
Gulun nodded. “Of course we have to check their stories.” Hours wasted.
“But nothing suspicious?”
“No. But, you know, I didn’t expect-” he said, a deference. “I apologize if it’s inconvenient.”
“No, no, you have a job to do. We want you to do it. If you think it’s someone here-”
“As I said, I don’t expect that. A matter of procedure only. The likely explanation is a robbery, but the difficulty is the money. Mr. King still having it.”
“And nobody in the cafe saw anything? How many there were?”
“Just the car. It’s possible there was only one. Scared off, perhaps, before he could take the money.” Already preparing his Unsolved folder.
“But if it wasn’t, then it’s something more serious.”
“More serious?” Gulun said.
Frank looked up, slightly alarmed, wondering where he was going.
“A thief, that’s one thing.” Leon stopped, hesitating, looking down at the folder in his hand. “What I keep wondering is, what if it wasn’t accidental, what if there was a motive, some reason.”
“Some reason,” Gulun said, a monotone.
“It’s just an idea I had,” Leon said. “Do you know what Tommy actually did here?”
Frank raised his eyebrows.
“Commercial Corp. was set up by the Board of Economic Warfare.” He glanced at Gulun, already lost in the bureaucratic chart. “His job was to buy up things so the Germans couldn’t-chromium, mostly. A good thing for Turkey, by the way-he’d pay top dollar just to keep it out of German hands. And to steer American business to friendly firms. He could also embargo unfriendly ones,” he said, dropping his voice.
“Embargo them,” Gulun said, waiting.
“That’s right. Stop doing business with them. If he thought they were too cozy with the Germans. That could be tricky-companies wanted to sell to both sides. Sometimes they had to, to keep going. An Allied embargo could put you out of business.”
“Ruin you,” Gulun said.
Leon nodded. “What occurred to me was, what if it’s somebody Tommy put out of business, somebody with a grudge.”
“I see,” said Gulun, familiar with grudges.
“Or somebody he was going to-”
“But the war is over, Bauer Bey.”
“But not all the embargoes have been lifted yet. And now, who else is there to sell to? Somebody’s just getting by and Tommy wouldn’t- well, it’s just an idea.”
“No, it’s possible.” Involving Turks, people Gulun was more comfortable investigating.
“If you like, I’ll make a list for you.” He held up the folder. “Any business that was affected. Might have a grudge. Or maybe would find it convenient to get Tommy out of the way. Would that be useful?”
“Very useful,” Gulun said, dipping his head. “A kindness.”
“Well, we want to find out who did this. Anything to help-”
For an instant, he felt ashamed of his own smoothness. Gulun and his force grilling hapless businessmen, piling up reports. But not just any businessmen after all-German sympathizers, people who still deserved a little police scrutiny.
“I think we’re getting someplace here,” Frank said, a dismissal. “How long to put together a list?”
“Give me a day or two,” Leon said to Gulun. “A preliminary anyway.”
Gulun dipped his head again. He picked up his hat as Frank started for the door. “His files,” he said to Leon. “They’re for these businesses only? Nothing else?”
