Those malicious rumors in the press insinuating relations with a man of the lowest character were untrue. Fabrications of the worst kind. He’d need to be quite an actor to have fooled me all these years, and he was no actor. But if I am wrong, and if he has been deceiving me and my family for all these years, I need to know. And to act accordingly.”
“You’re right,” I said.
“I’ve been so preoccupied with these questions, I haven’t even had the opportunity to mourn him. I haven’t shed a tear. The man I’ve known since I was a child, the man I’ve shared a bed with for twenty-four years, the man who has always been at my side just couldn’t be the man they say he is. It can’t be true. I knew him too well.”
Her eyes had grown misty. We all looked on silently.
She didn’t cry, just closed her eyes and raised her eyebrows for a moment, as though she was merely stretching her facial muscles. When her eyes reopened, she was back in iron lady mode.
“I knew him well,” she repeated. “Perhaps you’ll understand better if I tell you we were friends. The best friend I ever had. That’s important. Without a sense of companionship, marriages wither and die. Ours had never been a love match, but we grew up together and respected each other. Some things may have remained unspoken and unsaid, I don’t remember right now. But I can tell you honestly and straight from the heart that we shared so much. I’ve lost a friend, a treasured friend. Can you understand what that means?”
I wanted to assure her that I could. She had affected me deeply. Her choice of words may have been conventional, but it was her intensity and sincerity that got to me.
“I think I can,” I said.
“He wasn’t the type of man who would commit suicide. He was full of life. He wasn’t an outgoing person, but he was, in his own way, full of life. And those crimes they wrongly accused him of, they were beneath him. Like I said, I knew him well, as well as I know myself. And I trusted him completely.”
“And what about them?” I said, waving at the bankers.
“I found out about the box from Volkan Bey’s brother. I’ve known Nejat Bey for years. He kindly agreed to help me.”
Nejat Bey proudly stirred in his seat at the mention of his name.
“Don’t mention it,” he murmured.
“Faruk Bey and I have known Nejat Bey for some years. We’ve done each other favors. Of a financial nature, of course. There are some people one can count on. Nejat Bey is one of them.”
More murmuring from Nejat Bey.
She was somehow appealing. Her large, honey-colored eyes were candid. She seemed honest. She commanded respect. She may even have resembled Ingrid Bergman in her later years. The Bergman in a tailored suit who seduces Yves Montand and Anthony Quinn…
“I need to know who’s behind this, how Faruk died, why he was accused of murder, and who has been slandering him. He had as many friends as enemies, but these… accusations of murder… are going too far. I can’t take it anymore…”
“So you do really want to get to the bottom of all this?” I asked.
“Certainly,” she said, eyes widening.
“Then why did you send two armed men to break into my house? In the middle of the night?”
Arching her eyebrows, she looked in turn at me, the manager, and the cheery assistant. Finally, her eyes came to rest on me again.
Now she was steely. “Look, I still doubt your true intentions. Just as I doubted those of Volkan Bey’s brother.”
One of the arched eyebrows settled into place, the left one remained raised as she looked at me inquisitively.
If she was acting, she was a real star.
“Who do you think I am?” I asked.
“I have no idea,” she said. “I’m meeting you for the first time. But Okan Bey tried to blackmail us, and it was you who took the key from him. What conclusion was I to draw?”
So that’s what Okan meant when he claimed they had “helped out.” And he assumed I was trying to get in on the action, too. What a dope. I laughed aloud.
The three of them stared uncomprehendingly.
“That’s not it at all,” I said, and explained why and how I had obtained the key. Naturally, I said as little as possible about why I’d been drawn to the case and my hacking job with Cihad2000.
“Well then, let’s open it together,” she said.
“As long as nothing falls into the wrong hands, I have no objections,” I concurred.
Nejat and Gulben led the way to the vault, followed by Nimet Han?m and me. I hadn’t forgotten about the thugs tied up in my bedroom. I’d have to reach Ipekten and let her know. In fact, it’d be a good idea to arrange a little chat between Sarp and Nimet Han?m.
Having dispensed with the formalities of signing in and producing ID, we soon found ourselves standing in front of a full-size safe-deposit box, number 170. Gulben was more brisk and businesslike than ever as she inserted the first of the dual keys. Now it was our turn; that is, my turn.
Like an amateur actor taking up her role, I glanced meaningfully over my shoulder at them.
Nimet Hanoglu had the presence of mind to request that Nejat and Gulben leave us alone.
They were so in awe of their own dedication to service that they left without a word, to wait outside the entrance to the vault. I’d have been unable to resist peeking inside from time to time.
Nimet’s eyes met mine. In them, I read hauteur, supplication, curiosity, compassion, even a slight helplessness-that is, the full gamut of her emotions. She had the most amazing eyes! Any suspicions we’d had of each other evaporated with that look. I opened my handbag and withdrew the key.
I tried to get excited about opening a safe-deposit box for the first time in my life. But I felt nothing.
Inserting the key carefully, I turned it. I tugged on the box. It wouldn’t open. I tried again.
Nimet calmly reached over to turn the second key provided by the bank. The box opened.
Eyes on the contents of the box, we both hesitated to make the first move.
Chapter 35
As I got to know Nimet better, my respect and admiration for her grew. I found myself liking her immensely. She had a soothing presence, she looked me directly in the eye when she spoke, and everything she said was measured and eminently reasonable. It helped, of course, that Nihal Han?m, my beloved elementary school teacher, had also looked a bit like Ingrid Bergman.
We’d quickly glanced over everything that came out of Volkan Sar?dogan’s box, taking it all with us for later inspection.
We were being driven in Nimet’s car. Not wishing to take any chances, I’d suggested we go directly to my place. In any case, the Hanoglu household was still in mourning. There would be a lot of visitors. I was also anxious to rid myself of Sarp and the mute, and to relieve Ipekten of her duties. It would also be a good idea to look over the files Cihad2000 had sent me.
“All right, we’ll stop by your home, and I’ll have a word with Sarp. But I’ve already caused you so much trouble. Let’s look over the documents at my house. I’ll arrange tea and coffee, and something to eat.”
When I pondered the state of my refrigerator, no doubt completely cleaned out by now by Ipekten, I saw her point. She had a houseful of servants. And I’d love to see that amazing view in the daytime.
“But what about your visitors?” I asked.
“Everyone who matters has already expressed their condolences. The rest can stay away. At times like this, you learn who your true friends are. Some avoid you, some suddenly fall ill, others find they have urgent business overseas… Scandals are contagious, you see!”
She laughed bitterly, turning her face toward the window for a moment.
“I’m sorry. I’m not feeling well,” she said, in a voice treading that thin line between hysterical laughter and tears.
I gave her a moment to collect herself.
“Have you got a computer?” I asked.
“Certainly,” she said. “The house is full of them…”
“I’ve got some computer files I’ll need to take with us.”
I didn’t tell her that the files concerned her husband’s business dealings, but I did suggest that they might be of use.
“Of course, of course… Certainly.”
The word “certainly” was her trademark response, uttered on every possible occasion.
When we stepped into my flat, everyone was in for a shock.
Ipekten was still in front of the TV, but Queer as Folk had been replaced by porn. Two hairy musclemen were going for the “money shot.”
Sitting on the floor in the lotus position-naked!-she was flanked by her captives, whose underwear had been pulled down to their knees. Her hands were full, and busily at work.
Things went from bad to ludicrous. When the two men saw Nimet and me walk in, they hastily assumed prone positions to hide their privates, their white bottoms bobbing in the air. Ipekten launched into a stammering explanation.
“I just… for fun… The film did it.”
Nimet stood stock still and silent, surveying the scene before her. Trying to conceal her groin with one hand, her breasts with the other, Ipekten managed a “
“I’m so sorry,” I said, leaping in front of Nimet.
“Think nothing of it.”
