papers, private phone numbers, hotel invoices, and even documents of a more official nature indicated a calculating intelligence and a well-developed sense of organization, if nothing else. I was as curious as can be but would have to wait until tomorrow. And if it turned out that Okan had been lying about the contents of the safe-deposit box, he would live to regret it. The police were still after him, and he had nowhere to go, couldn’t even leave Refik’s flat. He was a wanted man. Unless the police got to him first, he would be all mine.
I called Cihad2000 the moment I stepped out onto the street.
“I think I’m onto something important,” he began.
“Tell me quick. I’m dying to know what it is.”
“Have you arranged the hotel room?”
“Believe me, I haven’t had a chance,” I said.
“Forget it!” he said. “I’ve been here all day working like a donkey for you and you couldn’t find the time to reserve a hotel room. Forget it.”
“I think I’ve stumbled onto something important, too,” I said. “I won’t know for sure until tomorrow morning. Come on, tell me what you found out.”
“It’s not fair! I’m expected to tell you everything, but you haven’t got anything for me. You owe me big time. We’ll talk later. I’m fed up with the whole business. I mean it, I’ve had it. Get me Pamir Han?m. Tonight. It’ll be a good deed in God’s eyes…”
“I’ll call you back later,” I said, hanging up. I was focused on a case involving two murders, and all he could think about was hanky-panky. If whatever he’d found out was so important, he wouldn’t have been able to keep it from me. It couldn’t be all that valuable.
I was stuck in commuter traffic. The taxi barely inched forward. Once again, I considered and rejected the idea of getting out and walking home.
I was tired. And confused. I imagined how nice it would be to arrange a house call by a masseur. How nice to be kneaded and pummeled, then to fall into a deep sleep.
But I had work to do. First I’d call Pamir and arrange a hotel, then I’d have to contact Ponpon to organize a visit to Faruk Bey’s house, even if it was just to pay my respects along with hordes of others. Next on the list was a little chat with Ziya Goktas. I’d hurt my hands beating up Okan. How amateurish, I thought. Or was I just getting old and careless? I immediately banished the thought. It was unthinkable!
As we drove past the Conrad Hotel, I remembered its wonderful views and cake shop, and decided to reserve the room myself, in person. Ignoring the grumblings of the driver, I insisted he turn around and drop me off in front of the hotel.
A room with a whirlpool looking out on the Bosphorus would cost a small fortune, but Cihad2000 could afford to splurge. It was better than making a donation to some frivolous charitable foundation.
I ordered a slice of the divine pear cake, along with a cup of weak tea.
As the smiling waitress served me, I began placing phone calls. Pamir was hard to reach. I had to call several times before I got through.
“
I broke the news of her evening rendezvous with Cihad2000.
“But what if the dye doesn’t take? I mean, what if it turns out bright orange or something? I’m not setting foot outside the house if that happens, I swear it!”
“He’ll still want you,” I said. “And even if he doesn’t like it, so what? It’s a favor after all.”
“Don’t say that. You’re taking out all the passion.”
“Look, darling Pamir. It’s got nothing to do with passion. Just be yourself. And be strict with him!”
“Alright then. I’ll wear leather.”
“Good choice,” I commended her. “I’ll call you later to let you know the exact time.”
I dug into my pear cake, light as a feather. As I raised my shoulders and tilted my head back to heighten the heavenly experience, I realized my eyes were half closed. I may even have moaned. It was that good.
Recharged, I called Cihad2000 to fill him in on Pamir. His breathing grew heavier as he listened.
“Now,” he croaked.
“Don’t be ridiculous, she’s dyeing her hair. It’ll take at least another couple of hours.”
“Fine then,” he said. I gave him the reservation number. He’d have to confirm his credit card by telephone or e-mail.
“Now tell me what you’ve found out,” I said, leaning back and taking a swallow of warm tea.
“I forwarded it all to your computer,” he said. “I thought it’d be a nice surprise when you got home. It’ll take too long to explain now. A lot of bank account transfers. Lists of names from around the world, some of them familiar. Large sums, small sums… Nonstop money traffic. International accounts and local banks… I haven’t deciphered all the information yet, but I’ve got more than enough to give us a good idea. You’ll see.”
“But what good will any of that do? What are we supposed to do with these Telekom lists?”
“We’ve got access to the private records of almost anyone you can think of. A long list of names. It’ll be child’s play to hack any bank.”
“It already is,” I said, lightly pressing the last forkful of pastry against my palate with my tongue.
“Good luck to you then,
“Since when have you addressed me as ‘elder sister’?”
“God willing, you’re now a big sister to me. No one has ever done me a favor like this. No one.”
I still planned to call Ponpon, but I’d do it when I got home. Brother-in-law Ziya could wait, too. I’d been tired even before dessert; now I was about to be overcome with drowsiness. Even a massage seemed like too much trouble. I paid the cheerful waitress and got into a taxi waved over by the doorman, tall and well built in his cape and top hat. As he closed the door for me, he shot me a smile that, though courteous, let me know that he was on to me. I was too exhausted to flirt, and simply nodded my appreciation.
I nearly dozed off in the taxi. It was all I could do to stay awake.
When I got home, there in front of the apartment building was a police car waiting to take me to the station.
Chapter 30
Fortunately, the police were most polite. Once again, my friendship with Selcuk had done me no harm. It was “sir” this and “sir” that. Exhausted, I calmly did all they asked and produced perfectly plausible responses to all their questions.
There was the matter of my visit to Faruk Hanoglu. Why had I gone to see him, and when? How long I had stayed? What was the exact nature of our relationship? How well I’d known him, and such… They were simply gathering as much information as possible, that was all. A routine interview. Nothing to be concerned about. Not yet, anyway.
Nothing was asked about Okan, and nothing volunteered. With Okan so terrified of the police, he’d have no choice but to spend a couple more days with Refik Alt?n, at their love nest. Within a couple of days, everything would be clear, in any case.
I was certain that they’d interpreted my fatigue as boredom, therefore assuming that all I told them was true. My testimony was typed up. After glancing over it, I signed a copy. I was thanked, and a policeman went so far as to accompany me to the exit, no doubt due to his respect for, and fear of, Commissioner Selcuk. Shaking my hand as we parted, he said, “Give my regards to the chief.”
I was deposited in front of my building by the same car that had taken me off to the station an hour earlier.
At last, I could crawl into my inviting, empty bed, with particular emphasis on the word “empty.” Were John Pruitt or even Haluk Pekerdem to come calling, I’d have politely turned them away. I was that tired. As I got undressed, I took the large safe-deposit box key out of my trouser pocket and placed it on the nightstand. I’m normally a tidy person, some would even say compulsive, but for tonight I simply tossed my clothes onto the low armchair near the bed.
It would take an alert mind to go through the lists forwarded to me by Cihad2000. That could wait until morning. It was nearly nine o’clock. Cihad2000 and Pamir would be going at it by now, I thought. Then I was out cold.
A blissfully deep sleep and delightful dreams were cut short by the endless ringing of the phone. Even worse, the call had been placed not to the line attached to the answering machine, but to my modem, the number of which even I didn’t know. It seemed the ringing would never stop; I’d have to answer it.
Opening a single eye, I peered at the alarm clock. It was well after midnight.
I dragged myself into my home office and produced my grimmest “
“I just called to thank you” came the voice of Cihad2000. “I haven’t woken you?”
“I was sleeping. Anyway, I’m awake now.”
“It was amazing, better than any of my fantasies. I couldn’t get enough. It was so… punishing.”
“I’m so happy for you,” I said.
“Anyway, you’d better get back to bed. We’ll talk tomorrow. I’m too wound up to sleep. Maybe I’ll get some more work done. Oh, by the way, have you had a look at the lists I sent? Did you find anything useful?”
“You wouldn’t believe how exhausted I was. I passed out the second I got home.”
“Alright, alright. I can take a hint. Sorry. Tomorrow then…”
“Okay.” I yawned.
He thanked me again before hanging up.
It had been a short call, but I was now fully awake. I went back to bed, hoping for the best. The covers were still warm. I pulled them up to my chin.
I started imagining what I’d find when I opened the safe-deposit box the next day. It’d be just like a film. I’d walk in and open the box with my key. The name of the bank, branch code, and box number were all engraved on the key, after all. In order to ensure that I’d be able to stride right past the lines of envious bank customers, with a curt nod directed at the deferential manager, I’d have to follow the example of my mother, chin high, eyes straight ahead, and dressed to genteel advantage. I could only guess at the dirty laundry that awaited me. It might lead me not only to Volkan’s killer, but to that of loan shark Faruk as well. It’s true that the police were on the case, but they now had me to contend with as well.
I turned over onto my other side, completely altering my train of thought. Volkan was just Volkan, and Faruk just Faruk. And both were dead. But then there was
