Mehmet Somer - The Gigolo Murder

I produced my most refined, most English smile. This was an Agatha Christie moment, after all. I’d been transformed into a Wendy Hiller, a Vanessa Redgrave, a Diana Rigg, a Jane Birkin!

Ziya, who was looking around furtively through narrowed eyes, was smaller than I remembered. By hunkering down in an armchair at the very back, as far away as possible from the others, he only emphasized how out of place he was. I introduced him to Nimet. I can’t say the look he shot her was a friendly one.

“You’re up to something,” he told me. “Let’s see what happens.”

Gone was the fawning rascal I’d met at the wake, replaced by someone with hunched shoulders, gaunt cheeks, and sunken eyes.

“What’s that mongrel looking for here?” he said, pointing to Okan.

“Patience please, beyefendi ,” interjected Nimet. “We’ll explain in a moment. We have our reasons for inviting you.”

Unaccustomed to being addressed so formally, Ziya hung his head and said nothing.

Next in line was Canan Hanoğlu Pekerdem. Ever chic; ever elegant. Still smelling sexily of Vera Wang. In short, as irritating as the night I’d met her. We made a show of briefly clasping frosty hands. I was cold to her out of jealousy; but what was her problem with me?

Finally, there was Haluk. I clung to his hand for as long as possible. After all, physical contact is physical contact. It was perfectly clear that he affected me; equally clear that I affected him not at all.

“I’m so happy to see you again,” I said.

“Yes” was his terse reply. Even worse, his eyes were blank. Did the man have no feelings, no soul?

Nimet and I took our places. Placed in the middle of the huge room were two high-backed chairs. A fire had been lit, its reflection refracted into ruby and topaz droplets by the heavy crystal chandelier hanging overhead.

We exchanged glances. Yes, everything was ready. We could begin. The lady of the house, Nimet Hanım, would start.

“The reason we have so suddenly requested that you all join us here this evening is that we have an important announcement to make. As you know, Faruk was accused of having murdered Volkan Bey. He was then found dead, under suspicious circumstances, in front of the pier.”

At the mention of Volkan’s name, Ziya moaned softly. Refik squeezed Okan’s hand. Otherwise, there was dead silence, disturbed only by the crackling of the fire. Everyone held their breath, all eyes were on me and Nimet.

It was my turn.

“Nimet and I met just today, but it has been a long and eventful day. We exchanged all we knew. We thought long and hard. And we believe we have made a terrible discovery.”

Temperatures were rising. Sami, who was sitting on a sofa next to Hikmet, pulled a large white handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped his forehead.

Cihad2000 looked slightly indignant, so I quickly mentioned him, and outlined our adventure with Türk Telekom. A voice told me to tell them all about his hotel fling with Pamir the previous night. I ignored it.

“ Ayol , you said it would be over in a minute and you’re still getting warmed up,” Ponpon burst out. “Look, I’ll spell it out for you. I’ve got to clear out in twenty minutes, at the latest. I’ve got a show to get to. You can’t keep an audience waiting. It’d be the end of my career. I’ve still got to get ready. I hate rushing.”

“Getting ready” would consist of little more than repowdering her jowls. Some of the girls fall apart at the slightest sign of facial hair. It had been a mistake to invite Ponpon. It didn’t matter that she’d read all the English murder mysteries in the world, she’d never get the knack of behaving like a cold-blooded aristocrat. Impatient, testy, and determined to be the center of attention-that was Ponpon. Perhaps that’s what’s meant by “star quality”: the burning desire to hog the floor no matter what!

“A little patience, dear Ponpon!” I said.

“I’m trying to go along with you, sweetie, but you just don’t seem to get it. I’ve got a show. No one cares! I’ve still got makeup and costume to get through… Don’t you get it!”

She anxiously rubbed her chin, confirming my suspicions.

“Now, now, dear,” I said.

I turned to Nimet to make it clear that she was up next.

She sat up straight and turned an appraising glance on each of the guests. That was a critical part of the plan. As her eyes met those of each guest, I carefully did my own appraisal of their reactions.

“We found some important papers among Faruk’s documents. At first we didn’t know what they were. Then, a note in Volkan Bey’s safe-deposit box and a detail found among the phone and computer records compiled by Kemal Bey helped us connect the dots. We’d overlooked a certain detail for quite some time. But now we’re sure.”

Silence!

She turned to me. We were both certain now.

“Someone had been extorting money from Faruk Bey for a considerable time,” I said.

It was important here to note the reaction of each and every guest. We’d decided beforehand who would observe who.

Impatient Ponpon jumped straight in, of course: “Gigolo Volkan!”

“No, not him,” I said. “He was an intermediary. In fact, he was just a tool.”

“What?” reacted Sami Bey, wiping his misty eyes with his handkerchief. “That couldn’t have happened without my knowledge. We kept meticulous accounts.”

“Correct, Sami Bey,” said Nimet. “It happened without your knowledge. You, too, were used.”

Sami waved his large handkerchief, avoiding eye contact.

“Well I never, hanımefendi !” he objected.

“But why?” insisted Nimet Hanım. “You knew Volkan better than anyone. You may have availed yourself of his services more than anyone else… Which is why you’re sweating now.”

Nimet fixed her honey eyes on his. “I had no knowledge of your preferences. Nor was I interested in them. That is, until today. The bedroom is private. I don’t care who does what. Nor do I have the right to… But someone turned your head.”

“Those are baseless insinuations!” Sami shouted.

So he was a hothead, just as I’d thought. I’m never wrong when it comes to men.

Now it was Refik’s turn to kick up a fuss. The suggestion of a relationship between Sami and Volkan had been too much for him.

“Slandering the dead like this! How dare you…” he began, before Okan deliberately cut him off.

“Leave my brother out of this!”

“No one knew him or loved him like me. Don’t you see?” mumbled Ziya from the back. Then came the sound of choked sobbing.

“The murder of Volkan Bey is another matter entirely,” Nimet said evenly and calmly. “Everyone had a motive for killing him. Wouldn’t you all agree?”

I picked up where she’d left off.

“Ziya Bey, you were in love with him,” I began. “You’d do anything to keep him with you always. When he left you, you threatened him with a knife. How are we to believe that you didn’t kill him?”

“How could I bring myself to harm someone I loved? Could this hand have stabbed him? I swear, I’d cut it off first!” he sobbed.

“But you were the one who got him mixed up in all this. Admit it. It was you!” cried Okan, beginning to lunge at Ziya. Refik and Selçuk forced him down into his chair.

“What about you, Okan?” I asked. “You adored your brother, but he couldn’t keep up with your demands for drugs and cash. After he died, you went through his things, hoping to find someone to shake down. Why did you come here before the body was even cold? It wasn’t over grief for your brother; it was to demand money from Faruk and Nimet.”

“That’s a lie!” he snarled.

“I’m still here,” Nimet quietened him. “You said you had damaging evidence and tried to bargain with us. Don’t deny it. There’s no point.”