But Leon was looking down the table. Kay winced, her dazed expression now filled with something else, the guilty apprehension of someone about to be punished.
“Dorothy said he-” Kay looked away. “Shot himself,” he finished to Gulun. “Is that right?”
“He was shot, yes,” Gulun said, officious, enjoying himself. “By whom is another matter.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that is not yet determined. There are things to consider-the angle of the shot, technical matters.”
“He means that suicide is not likely. In fact, not possible.” A voice from behind. Colonel Altan got up from a chair and walked toward them. “You can be frank with Mr. Bauer,” he said to Gulun. “He was Mr. Bishop’s colleague. Both, you know, were cooperating with us. On another matter.” He turned to Leon. “Lieutenant Gulun thinks it best for the staff not to be alarmed. So, a simple suicide for now. Nevertheless, he asks questions,” he said with irony, but in English, an effect Gulun would not pick up. “He wants to eliminate possibilities.”
Leon looked at Gulun. “Someone killed him?”
“I’m trying to establish the facts,” Gulun said, a strut in his voice. “Please.” He opened his palm and indicated a chair.
Leon sat, glancing again at Kay, head down, fingering her ring.
“When did you see Mr. Bishop yesterday? An approximate time,” Gulun said with a small wave.
“I didn’t. I thought he was in Ankara.”
“But he called your office. Your secretary says.”
“You talked to Turhan?”
“It’s important to be thorough. A man’s death. So, he called-”
“I thought from Ankara.”
“No. A local call. According to your secretary.”
“She never told me that. I had no idea he was here.” Looking at Kay, talking to both of them.
“Ah. And yet you went from your office to the consulate. Not to meet him?”
“No, I had some work to finish up.”
“Saydam, the night guard, said you came here about seven, is that correct?”
“Yes, about that.”
“But he did not see you leave.”
“He wasn’t at the door. I don’t know where he was. Maybe having a pee.”
“He said he was always there.”
“Well, he would, wouldn’t he? Look-”
Gulun waved this off. “So we don’t know. An hour? More? How long were you here?”
“Not long. Twenty minutes, maybe half an hour.”
“And then?”
“Then I went to the Pera Palas.” He glanced down at Kay. “For a drink.”
“You were seen at the bar?”
“I don’t know. Ask the bartender. Why? Are you suggesting I killed him?”
Gulun made a calming gesture with his thick hands. “And after?”
“After? After I went home,” he said, looking at Gulun.
Gulun held his gaze for a second. “Not according to Mr. Cicek. It’s correct, yes? Cicek? The
“You’ve had a busy morning,” Leon said.
“Lieutenant Gulun is methodical,” Altan said quietly. “It’s correct?”
“That he’s the
“Unfortunately the police cannot be accurate about the time of death,” Altan said. “Mr. Bishop had been dead for some time when his body was found. The police doctor says yesterday evening-early, not so early, it’s impossible to say which exactly. Maybe when the cleaning staff is running the vacuum, maybe the guard thinks he heard a sound in the street. We don’t know.”
“But we do know he was shot,” Gulun said. “And we know you were here. So we must account for your time. So, the Pera bar. And after?” Another steady gaze.
“I went home. Mr. Cicek must not have heard me.”
“No. He heard your telephone. Ringing. Until the caller gave up. Do you often do that, not answer your phone?”
A standoff minute, Leon facing him down.
“He couldn’t,” Kay said. “He was with me.”
Leon shot her a look, a slight shake of his head. Don’t.
“Madame?” Gulun said, surprised.
Altan sat up, eyes moving from one to the other.
“He wasn’t at home. He was with me. All night. I can swear to it.” Her voice getting fainter.
“Let me understand. You spent the night with Mr. Bauer.”
“Yes,” she said to Leon.
“Your husband’s colleague.” He paused. “You are lovers?”
“We spent the night,” she said, looking down.
Gulun glanced at the stenographer, embarrassed, and stood up. “Your husband knew this?”
“No, of course not.”
“But he comes to Istanbul. A sudden trip. So perhaps a surprise. For the lovers.”
“He called Mr. Bauer,” Altan said calmly.
Gulun looked at Kay, then at Leon, not sure what to do with this.
“A moment, please,” Altan said to Gulun, drawing him toward the door. “You will excuse us? More coffee?”
Kay shook her head. The stenographer got up and went over to the window, as if she were leaving the room too, out of earshot.
“Why did you say that?” Leon said quietly when they’d gone.
“Why not? It’s true, isn’t it?” she said, her voice flat. She pushed the cup away. “A surprise for the lovers,” she said with Gulun’s inflection. “It would have been, wouldn’t it? Quite a surprise.”
“Kay-”
“The nuns had it right,” she said to herself. “You pay one way or the other. Maybe not this way, though. Even they wouldn’t think of this.”
“Are you all right?”
“I was still in bed. When the phone rang. Could I come down? There’s been an accident. Accident. So I wouldn’t become hysterical, I suppose. And I’ve got the smell of you on me.” She got up, hands on the table. “Not that they’d know that.”
“They do now. Why did-”
“Do you know what they asked me? Did he have any enemies? And I thought, I don’t know. I don’t know that. My husband, and I don’t know anything about him. So maybe you do. Did he? Have enemies?”
“He must have had one.”
She looked down, then put her hand up to cover her eyes. “Imagine not knowing that.” Not crying, but quiet now, receding.
Leon went over and touched her shoulder, but she swung away, out of reach.
“An accident,” she said, taking out a handkerchief and blowing her nose. “‘What kind of accident?’ Then this. ‘Last night,’ they said. So he must have been lying there, dead, while we-”
“Kay,” he said.
“I had to make the identification. ‘Is this your husband?’ ‘Yes.’ And all the time I’m thinking, I don’t know this man. A man who gets shot. He had some other life to do that. Like you,” she said, lifting her head. “I don’t know you, either.”
“Yes you do.”
He took the handkerchief and wiped the corner of her eye.
