Mehmet Somer - The Gigolo Murder

“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 İpekten, 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.

İpekten was still in front of the TV, but Queer as Folk had been replaced by porn.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. İpekten 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, İpekten managed a “ merhaba ” and a weak grin that only made her look more ridiculous.

“I’m so sorry,” I said, leaping in front of Nimet.

“Think nothing of it.”

“Let me introduce you. This is my friend, İpekten. She’s been guarding your boys. And this is Nimet Hanım. Nimet Hanoğlu.”

Without rising, İpekten extended her right arm, the one that had been covering her breasts.

“Pleased to meet you.”

That was a lie. Even İpekten would have been embarrassed by the antics we’d seen. There was nothing to be pleased about. If nothing else, she’d failed to discharge her duties as a guard.

They shook hands.

“Could you give me that robe, hubby?”

The robe was Ponpon’s kimono; hubby was, of course, me. I handed it over.

“Come with me,” I said, taking Nimet by the arm and leading her to the office. I have no idea if she turned around for another look. I was in front. I turned on the computer.

“It’ll take about five minutes,” I said.

“Fine, no problem.”

“Can I get you anything?”

“No, thank you.”

Excusing myself for a moment, I raced back to the living room. İpekten had put on the kimono and was busily pulling up the prisoners’ underwear, no easy task, as they were bound and gagged grown men.

I helped, heaving Sarp up to his feet while she tugged at his briefs.

“I’m sorry, hubby… When you took so long I thought I’d watch a new film… And then I got into the mood… all those men… And these two were here, right at hand… I thought it’d be fun…”

“I see,” I said. “Never mind. Forget about it.”

“I just hope you don’t get the wrong idea. That’s why…”

“Like I said, forget it. What happened, happened.”

“Tell me you forgive me. I couldn’t bear it if you didn’t. I’d lose sleep for at least three nights.”

“Alright, ayol ,” I nearly shouted. “There’s nothing to forgive. It’s just that it was a bit embarrassing.”

She threw her arms around me and gave me a big kiss.

“I was embarrassed, too,” she said. “Let’s make this our little secret. Don’t tell anyone!”

“It’s a deal,” I agreed. Then I put an end to the subject by adding, “And even if I did, who’d believe it?”

She paused, then smiled when the truth of what I’d said sank in.

“Come on,” I said, pointing to the mute, “let’s get him dressed, too.”

“Right away, hubby!” she said, getting to it.

Sarp was staring daggers at me.

I went over to him and whispered in his ear.

“As you saw, Nimet Hanım is here. Your work’s done. Finished! If you breathe a word of this, I’ll tell everyone how I beat you up, and that’ll be the end of your career. And if I have to, I’ll tear your impressive tackle right off and stuff it down your throat.”

To illustrate my threat, I reached down and grabbed him.

“So wipe that scowl off your face and give me a sweet smile.”

His forehead seemed to twitch. He was probably trying to smile. I ripped off the bandage covering his mouth, removing any hairs that had grown out during the day.

“Bitch!” he exploded.

His hands and feet were still bound. I grabbed him again, squeezing harder this time.

“I don’t think you get it…”

He was in pain. And he did get it now, or he wouldn’t have gritted his teeth without a word.

“Good,” I said. “That’s a good boy.”

Before returning to Nimet, I instructed İpekten to free his legs, but to leave him handcuffed.

“I’m so sorry,” I said to Nimet, as I entered the office. “We caught them unawares.”

“No matter,” she said, polite to the end. I wasn’t sure what she meant, but it was clear that she was anxious to close the subject.

Sitting in front of my computer, I began copying Cihad2000’s files onto a disc. A huge bouquet of virtual flowers appeared with each file. Red carnations, yellow and white gladioli, a huge basket filled with purple, pink, and crimson anemones. With the last file appeared a bunch of red roses, upon which were written the words: “Thank you, Kemal.” I was touched.

“All done,” I said, trying to smile as though that scene in the bedroom had never taken place. “We can leave whenever you like.”

While Nimet had a word with Sarp and his accomplice, I wiped any fingerprints off the guns. I wouldn’t have put it past Sarp to shoot someone with that gun and then try to pin it on me. One can never be too careful.

The boys were dismissed. İpekten came in to say good-bye, a fashion plate once more. Clasping Nimet’s hand between her own, she apologized again.

“Sarp and I go way back, you see…” was her unnecessary explanation. I suspected Sarp would no longer be on Nimet’s payroll, whatever İpekten’s explanations.

“Not a problem. Really. Forget it.” She blushed.

Her chauffeured car was waiting in front of the building, the passenger doors flung open as we approached. After winding through the steep narrow streets of Cihangir to drop off İpekten, we headed for the coast road to Yeniköy.

On the way we studied the contents of the box. Volkan seemed to have obsessively squirreled away everything he got his hands on.

There were also separate envelopes for each of his clients, containing telephone numbers, parking stubs, hotel invoices, an outline of sexual preferences and kinks, and even a few photographs. For some reason, Nimet quickly passed over the photos, focusing mainly on various documents. Some of the envelopes contained nothing but a business card, others were stuffed with bank draft vouchers. I had no idea what we were looking for, so I busied myself with the photos, especially those of the rich and famous in compromising poses. Nimet seemed to know what she was after. Passing over some envelopes, she reviewed every line of every document found in others. It was only natural that some names would mean more to her than they did to me.