“Clara won’t change her mind. She is angry with me for bringing you here. I’m sorry. Please still help Suleyman,” she says, miserably.
Detective Muhtar utters what is likely to be a Turkish obscenity, passes the dog back, and makes a beeline for the side door. Julia catches his arm.
“I’ll go.”
She squeezes past him before he has a chance to object.
*
Julia finds Clara in a small utility room, sitting on an upturned crate. She’s even more beautiful up close, with fine features and high cheekbones and remarkably green eyes. Those eyes cloud with fear when she sees Julia and she makes a move to flee out a side door.
“Don’t be afraid. I just want to talk. Do you speak English?” says Julia.
Clara pauses, hand hovering on the door handle.
“Please, Clara, just for a minute.”
And then, to her dismay, Julia bursts into tears. She’s horrified. But she can’t control it. The pent-up emotion of the last few days comes out in a flood.
“God, I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” Julia sniffs, wiping the tears from her eyes.
She digs inside her satchel for some tissues but can’t find any. Clara backs away from the door, opens a cupboard, and hands Julia a roll of paper towels.
Julia tears one off and blots her face. “Thank you. You’re very kind.”
Clara remains standing, saying nothing.
“Won’t you sit down?” says Julia.
Clara glances at the crate then at Julia, considering.
“Please.”
Clara gives in and takes a seat, folding her hands in her lap.
“Miray says you have a little boy?’
Clara reaches for the locket round her neck.
“How old is he?” says Julia.
“Four.”
“You must miss him.”
Clara looks sad. “Yes. Very much.”
“My sister is my only family.”
Clara looks away and studies the top shelf laden with supplies.
“Did you see her, Clara?”
Clara hesitates.
“Imagine if it was your family member…your little boy,” presses Julia.
Clara looks down at her shoes. “She was here on Saturday night.”
Julia’s heart races. “What time?”
“After midnight. She looked like she was waiting for someone.”
“Why did you think that?”
“Many guys hit on her but she ignore them and she keep looking at her phone.”
“What happened after that?” says Julia.
“I work out on the balcony for a time, an hour maybe, and when I return inside to get clean glasses, she is gone.”
“Did she leave with anyone?”
“I do not know.”
“What time was this?”
“About one thirty a.m.”
“When you served her, how did she seem?”
Clara thinks for a moment. “Worried.”
“Worried?”
Clara nods. “Not happy. No smile. She like this—” Clara frowns.
“Was she intoxicated?”
Clara considers this. “I don’t think so. I serve her two sodas and lime. No alcohol.”
“What else?”
“Nothing more.” Clara stands. “I have to get back to work.”
Julia stands, too. “Are you sure? There must be something else you can tell me.”
“No.”
Julia studies her closely, believes she is telling the truth.
“Do you have video footage? Cameras? Anything like that?”
Clara laughs. “You must be joking.” She lifts her finger to her nose and pretends to snort drugs. “Boss does not like cameras. Not good for business.”
*
Julia waits until they’ve exited the club before filling the others in.
“This is good,” says Detective Muhtar. “We will interview patrons, other staff, see if we can get more information.”
Julia nods, pleased. For the first time in days, she feels hope. “Toni was due to meet Yasmin the next day. Sunday. Something must have happened between the time she was here and the next day. We need to find out exactly what that was.”
Detective Muhtar waves a taxi over and issues instructions to the driver to take Miray home.
Julia looks around for another taxi. “Leo, we should go to the hotel, get some flyers, come back and hand them out to surrounding business.”
Leo frowns. “Don’t you think we should call it a night? It’s getting late. Detective Muhtar can take it from here. We can always come back in the morning and do the flyers after he’s done his interviews.”
Julia thinks about arguing. But he’s right, she needs rest, and so does he.
“I guess that makes sense,” she says, finally.
Leo’s distracted by something across the road.
“Are you even listening to me, Leo?”
He points to a shop.
“There.”
A small hair salon. A lone hairdresser is closing up for the night.
“You want a haircut?”
“Above the doorway.”
Julia follows his gaze. Perched to the left, beneath the ancient rusty spouting, is a tiny CCTV camera pointing directly at the club.
35
The hairdresser is an older woman with enormous brass hoop earrings and a nose ring. They catch her as she’s about to leave. Despite this, the woman is welcoming and invites them into the small but tidy three-chair salon, complete with a single hair dryer and sun-faded posters of glamourous Turkish women with thick, luxurious hair.
“She offers us tea,” says Detective Muhtar, translating.
Julia hesitates. She’s desperate to see what’s on that camera.
“It would be impolite to refuse,” Detective Muhtar presses.
Julia turns to the hairdresser. “Thank you. You are very kind. Of course, we would love some tea.”
The hairdresser smiles and ducks behind a gold curtain separating the working part of the salon from a small staff kitchenette. Soon there’s the hiss of water and the clatter of cups. They don’t have long to wait before she emerges with a tray of hot tea and a plate of lemon cake.
Balancing the petite tea glass in one hand, Detective Muhtar fishes a flyer of Toni from his back pocket and shows the hairdresser. She studies the image intently then shakes her head.
Undeterred, Julia turns to Detective Muhtar. “Please ask her about the camera.”
He relays Julia’s request. The hairdresser replies in a rapid, thick stream of Turkish. She sounds angry. Detective Muhtar nods sympathetically and waits for her to finish before translating.
