“Even I was there,” I added.
“We hired someone…” whispered Sami. A public confession. “An ex-con. We keep a few around. Sometimes they come in handy.”
Ziya, Okan, and Refik were all glaring at Sami.
“And you claim to love him…” Refik said reproachfully.
“You’re in deep shit, four-eyes! You’re gonna have to deal with me now,” Ziya growled, unleashing a series of threats outlining in some detail the agonies Sami would suffer at his hands.
Selcuk was squirming in his chair.
“Have you got any hard evidence?” he inquired.
“We’ve got a heap of documents and papers, but you’ll have to sort through them and decide what you can use,” I said.
“Let’s continue,” said Nimet, taking the floor.
“Sami killed Volkan, even if he wasn’t directly responsible. But all of the evidence pointed to Faruk. If he’d been imprisoned and out of circulation, they would have taken over the business.”
“But then Haluk Bey saved the day,” I said.
Haluk was still looking utterly crushed. And gorgeous in a new way.
“That idiot,” spat Canan. How could anyone look at a man like that with so much hatred?
Nimet and I talked rapidly in turn.
“That’s right, Haluk did all he could to defend Faruk,” said Nimet. “The case against him was full of inconsistencies. I think he may even have confided his suspicions to Haluk.”
“Yes, I did find out one thing,” Haluk said, his head bowed. “Canan was heavily overdrawn.”
“And,” I said, “that’s when we came into the picture: me and Kemal! But who hired us? Haluk! Why? To rescue both his wife and Faruk. He paid us good money. And he got what he paid for. But he cast the net too wide. If he’d simply settled for deleting a few phone records, Kemal and I wouldn’t have suspected much. But the international dimension caught our attention.”
“The funds were always transferred via the Island of Jersey and London. I had to wipe out those records…” Haluk muttered.
Canan looked at him in disgust.
“Canan naturally realized that things were going to blow up in her face,” I said. “Faruk had become too dangerous. She laid all her cards on the table, but he hadn’t even been arrested at that point.”
“That brings us to the night Faruk died…” said Nimet. She was speaking more precisely than ever. With her right hand she toyed with her necklace. “When Faruk was released, many people came to wish him well. I was too ashamed and upset to leave my room. But I do know that the last three visitors were Sami, Canan, and Haluk!”
“The three prime suspects,” I said. I hoped Haluk hadn’t done it. Canan could go to prison, and then he’d be mine. I’d be there to console him. “A person or persons persuaded Faruk to go out on the pier that night. And then into the sea…”
“First he was clubbed on the head!” Cihad2000 provided that critical detail. “With a blunt instrument. I was listening in on the police radio.”
I silently congratulated him. Sometimes his obsessive snooping was useful.
No one spoke. You could have sliced the tension with a knife.
“If we consider Sami’s diminutive physique…” said Nimet, breaking the silence. “Faruk was a big man, even a bit stout in his latter days.”
Everyone was staring at Canan and Haluk.
“
As she shook Nimet’s hand and prepared to leave, “Thanks so much for inviting me. Your house is so nice. I hope to come again another time,” she remarked.
“Certainly,” Nimet managed in reply.
Selcuk kept things moving.
“I’ll call in the squad…” he said.
“Please…” said Canan tearfully. She wiped her eye with a recently manicured finger. “Haluk, do something… Please don’t call the police…”
Even Ponpon looked back, spellbound.
“
Canan broke down. None of us had expected that. She was sobbing hysterically, oblivious to her ruined makeup. Gone was the Nisantas? girl who’d looked down her nose at everyone, most of all me. I almost felt sorry for her.
“He turned on me… He wouldn’t even listen… What was I to do?… Everything was falling apart… What else could I do?”
Haluk embraced her. I found that unnecessary. It should have been me.
“Can you leave us alone until the police come?” he asked.
Chapter 38
Everything happened that night just as Nimet and I had planned, like an Agatha Christie novel, or even better, the starstudded finale of a film adaptation:
Canan and Sami were led away in handcuffs. That business with the Telekom records was kindly swept under the carpet, thanks to Selcuk. After all, Cihad2000 and I had helped solve two murders.
With the mystery of her husband’s murder cleared up, Nimet began the painful mourning process. We hope to visit each other regularly. We even talked about taking a short holiday together. She’s always wanted to visit the coast of Croatia. “ Dalmatia is supposed to be wonderful,” she says. We haven’t yet had a chance to make definite travel plans. I hope we become friends. And if we do, she’ll certainly be a novel addition to my little circle.
Ali was terrified when he found out what a close call we’d had. I expect he’ll steer clear of shady contracts, at least for a while. I also expect a resulting drop in the company’s fortunes-and mine.
Kemal, alias Cihad2000, meets regularly with Pamir. As far as I know, he no longer rents five-star suites, settling instead for more modestly priced hotels. “I only have eyes for her,” he claims. Pamir retorts, “I’m a professional,
No one’s seen Refik around for a while, at the club or anywhere else. They say he and his lover have taken a long holiday, either in Tunisia or in a village down south. Rumor has it that he’s working on his latest masterpiece.
Sami is in jail, of course. If he does get out, Ziya Goktas may honor his oath to avenge Volkan’s death.
We’ve still got to take care of the scum in Hasan’s neighborhood. I don’t want to bother Selcuk about it. Perhaps I can find another way. I’m thinking it over.
Haluk Pekerdem is still in jail. I can’t imagine him there. I hope nothing bad happens, that he doesn’t get droopy shoulders and sad eyes, gain or lose too much weight, or otherwise allow his amazing good looks to deteriorate in any way. He’s being charged only with being an accessory to a crime and with concealment of evidence. In any case, he’ll be out long before his wife, Canan. I’m still hopeful. Who knows?
Acknowledgments
Presented with the opportunity to compile my own list, I have decided to milk it for all it’s worth. If I have overlooked anyone, I apologize for the oversight of my editor and consultant.
First of all, I would naturally like to thank my family: My mother, dearest Melos; my late father, even if he is unable to read this; my brother, who I believe has always taken life much more seriously than I have; his spouse, the happy result of my skills as a matchmaker; my late grandmother on my mother’s side, who was always a source of joy and panic in the house where I grew up; that pillar of dignified calm, my late great-grandmother on my father’s side; various other relatives, some living, others no longer with us, including my aunts, uncles, maternal uncles, first- and second-generation cousins-those passed over know who they are-and, finally, because anything but a specific mention would be a disgrace, my “special” cousin, Yesim Toduk; my aunts’ husbands, and my aunts-in-law.
Next come the friends I would like to thank: Naim Faik Dilmener, who patiently read my manuscript, guiding and encouraging me, and who is himself a keen reader of detective stories and an authority on golden oldie 45s, as well as his son, but in particular his wife, “Belinda”; Berran Tozer, who set out with me when this project was a five-book miniseries, but threw in the towel by the time we reached page 27; my esteemed partners and fellow consultants with whom I make a respectable living-for it would be impossible for me to survive on my earnings from writing books-Is?l Day?oglu Aslan and A. Ates Akansel and their spouses Burcak and Suada (who is also my Reiki master), as well as Is?l and Burcak’s daughter, Zeynep; and Ates and Suada’s dogs.
Despite their not really know what exactly was going on, I would like to thank, for their unfailing emotional support, Mehmet “Serdar” Omay; Murathan Mungan; Fusun Akatl? and her daughter, Zeynep, though we haven’t seen each other in a long time; and Zeynep Zeytinoglu; Y?ld?r?m Turker; Nejat Ulusay; Nilgun Abisel; Levent Suner; Nilufer Kavalal?; Mete Ozgencil, whose painting, in which I lose myself from time to time, hangs on the wall of my study; and Barbaros Altug, who somehow managed to motivate me without making his intentions obvious, and who is now my agent and imagines that he will somehow emerge unblemished from all of
