The Kiss Murder (19 page)
“Not to mine. I won’t travel long distances and any hotel expenses are to be covered.”
He smiled. “It’s not very far.”
I should have noted the modifying “very,” but my feelings toward Hüseyin spurred me to unthinking action. I needed to make a point, and the sooner, the better. What’s more, the guy wasn’t half bad.
As always, Hasan arrived to save the day. He wore his usual low-slung jeans. Hasan was every bit as macho as one would expect of a waiter who bared his butt crack in a transvestite bar. I apologized to Süleyman and turned to Hasan. As I did so, I kept my arms slightly extended, placing my hands one atop the other on my lap. My legs were parallel and my feet side by side. In other words, I was the picture of Audrey Hepburn perfection. Had I worn my gloves the effect would have been better still. But perfection is elusive. I lightly batted my false eyelashes, then raised my eyebrows as I opened my eyes wide, confronting Hasan with a questioning look that also contained a hint of a smile.
“I didn’t see you come in,” he said. “Sofya called you twice. She said it’s important.”
I thanked him.
Hasan squeezed my shoulder lightly, murmuring, “Don’t forget to call,” and walked off. Then I remembered Refik Altın’s proposal, and apologized to Süleyman once again as I rose to my feet. Catching up to Hasan, I grabbed him by the waistband of his sagging jeans.
“How does Refik know about Buse?” I asked.
“How should I know?” he replied.
He wasn’t at all convincing. I let him go. He hitched his jeans up slightly.
“Look,” I said, “don’t mess with me! I know what a chatterbox you are. But some things aren’t to be repeated. It’s not safe to tell Refik even what you had for lunch. He is real scum.”
Hasan looked at me, astonished. “But I didn’t tell him anything.”
I wouldn’t keep Gary Cooper waiting while I wasted time with Hasan. So he’d decided to deny it. That was his business. He’d come to regret this when the time was ripe. He’d do best to watch his step.
“I’m warning you, be careful,” was all I said.
“His ass was showing,” was Süleyman’s comment when I returned to our table.
“It’s fashionable nowadays,” I said.
“Not for me, it isn’t.”
“What’s the matter? Aren’t you proud of your bottom?” I needled him playfully.
My little joke fell on deaf ears. Süleyman didn’t even smile.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked. “Do I have to exhibit everything I’m proud of ?”
I could have prodded,
So tell me what you’re most proud of,
but I’d leave that sort of common behavior to the other girls. It’s not my style.
So tell me what you’re most proud of,
but I’d leave that sort of common behavior to the other girls. It’s not my style.
Süleyman’s hand had begun to show signs of life as it rested on my knee. Hüseyin looked on from afar. When he realized I’d looked at him, he turned to Müjde. He must have been imagining he was provoking me. The fool.
“Look, sweetie,” I said, “it’s still early. I won’t be able to stay for long. But seeing as you’ve waited for me . . .”
Süleyman had already risen to his feet. He looked even taller.
“I’ll get the car. I couldn’t find a parking spot. I’ll pick you up at the door in fifteen minutes.”
“Look, sweetie,” I began again, “if you’ve got any kinky plans, forget it.”
He placed a hand on my shoulder. “I don’t,” he said.
It’s funny, but those who do usually say so straightaway.
I want it like this, I’ll do it like that,
and so on. He wasn’t one of those.
I want it like this, I’ll do it like that,
and so on. He wasn’t one of those.
“I won’t wait at the door. Send word when you arrive. The doorman is named Cüneyt.”
“All right,” he said. Planting a halfhearted kiss on my cheek, he left. That’s right, on my cheek. I remained seated.
I decided to call Sofya while I waited. Who knows what she’d say to rattle me this time? I found Hasan and got her number. He had memorized it, which struck me as odd. It was only yesterday that he had claimed not to know exactly where she lived; now he knew her number by heart. I went to my office on the top floor, where I closed the observation window looking out over the entrance and dance floor. Otherwise the pounding music would make it impossible to hear myself speak.
I dialed the number. Sofya answered.
“
Merhaba,
Sofya, it’s me,” I said. “You rang?”
Merhaba,
Sofya, it’s me,” I said. “You rang?”
“I know what you’re up to.” She was off and running. “I told you not to get involved. But you’ve jumped in with both feet.” Again, she spoke in distinct syllables.
“Jumped into what? What is it you think you know?”
“That you went to Buse’s house, that you poked around. What you found . . .”
I wondered how she could have learned so much about me, but it really made no difference. The stout neighbor may have told her, or the apartment may have been under surveillance. I wouldn’t even put it past Sofya to have me followed. Each alternative was worth a full point. Besides, how could she possibly know what I’d found?
“And what exactly is it I supposedly found?” I asked. The distance between us did no end of good in terms of my self-confidence. While even her voice was unsettling, Sofya had to be physically present for me to become completely unnerved.
A synthetic snort rattled out from the receiver.
“You surely know best. You’re the one out hunting.” Then her voice became more serious. “As soon as you find what you’re looking for, you’d better hand it over to me. If not, the whole thing will explode in your face. Give it to me, and I’ll be able to protect you. It’s the only way.”
“But I haven’t got anything,” I protested.
“You’ll end up destroying yourself and me, too. You’re acting like a fool. Don’t. This is serious. Give me whatever it is you’ve found. They already know you have it.”
“I told you, I haven’t got a thing,” I said. “The flat had been totally ransacked by the time I got in. Every last corner had been searched.”
“Don’t try to play games with that flea brain of yours!” That last bit was said in her most masculine voice. It was almost unrecognizable. It’d been years since I’d heard her talk like that. She instantly regained her self-possession and returned to her divalike diction.
“They know where you were last night.”
“Who are ‘they’?”
“Full of questions, aren’t you? I don’t like it. Not one bit.”
“But who are they?” I insisted.
“If you go on like this there will be nothing I can do,” she warned.
“You know best,” were my parting words as I hung up.
I’m not totally unskilled in the art of self-defense. Furthermore, I really didn’t have anything, neither the letters nor the photos. The only thing in my possession was a taped interview in which both participants were drunk or drugged out. It wouldn’t stand up in court. Technology had made it possible to reproduce anyone’s voice. Failing that, recordings could be snipped apart and edited into the desired sentences.
Sofya had rattled me yet again. There was something about her that put me off balance.
I went down to the club. Hasan approached me at the base of the stairs.
“Have you spoken to Sofya?” he asked.
“Yes! What’s it to you?”
“She’s on the phone again. She said you were cut off. She’s waiting on the line. What should I tell her?”
“I’ve got nothing to say.”
“Are you going to speak to her?”
“Tell her I left.”
“She won’t believe me.” As he said it, Hasan reproduced a facial expression often used by the girls. A pout involving distended lips—it didn’t suit him. Though it was employed to good effect by the girls, it was inappropriate on the face of a man, nominal though he might be.
“Cut the coquetry, Hasan,” I snapped. “Make something up. I won’t speak to her.”
“Okay, fine. But why are you taking it out on me?”
He turned, hitching up his trousers as he walked off.
I’d have to give the question of Sofya a great deal of thought once I’d finished my business with Süleyman and returned to the club. Hasan’s attitude also begged a few questions. What was happening to him? Had I pressed a viper to my bosom? Why did he seem to side with Sofya? Why the interest in Buse?
If even Sofya was spooked, the situation was certainly critical. My knowingly being led into their trap was just asking for trouble.
I glanced over toward the commotion at the door. A group of five or six were entering the club. In front was Suat with her new girlfriend, a fashion model. They looked like Laurel and Hardy together. Next came the exhibitionist piano singer Mahmut Gürsel, who had screwed Buse on the deck of the boat. This was just great. It seemed everyone who had been mentioned in the tape was converging on my club.
Mahmut never came to the club. There had to be a reason for him to do so now. Suat wouldn’t have dragged him along for no reason. But they couldn’t know I’d listened to the cassette. When had they found out? How had they found out?
He seemed tense, even more so than would be accounted for by his first visit to a tranny club. Hasan met them at the door. His overly warm handshakes and kisses with Mahmut and Suat were annoying. Hasan was up to something. I didn’t know what it was exactly, but I would find out. The model was shockingly beautiful, and icy.
I didn’t know the other two members of the party. While I couldn’t say for certain, they didn’t seem like the sort I’d want around.
Cüneyt waved to me from the now-empty doorway. Süleyman must have arrived. I didn’t want to encounter Mahmut and Suat. I was in no shape to withstand their questions and meaningful glances. The club, which had seemed so spacious, shrank to the size of a small pen. There was no escape.
I went directly to their sides. First I embraced and kissed Suat. She congratulated me on my outfit. Some do appreciate the effort. Although I had never been introduced to Mahmut, as the club manageress I couldn’t exactly ignore him. He was too well known for me to feign ignorance.
“Welcome,” I greeted him. “It’s such an honor to see you here.”
He took my hand and pulled me toward him as he squeezed it. He looked as though he were preparing to devour me.
“The honor is all mine.”
As he breathed in, he seemed to be inhaling and retaining my scent. He hadn’t released my hand. In a word, the man was pure smut. Repulsive, even.
“Do forgive me, I really must go,” I said, reclaiming my hand. “I’m late for a rendezvous. I do hope to see you later.”
Suat protested unconvincingly, but Mahmut appeared truly outraged. Like a child deprived of its newest toy. He’d missed his chance.
I couldn’t hear what Suat said about me as I left, but I could well imagine the gist of it. I sashayed my way through the crowd to the door.
Chapter 23I
n front of the door was a black Volkswagen Passat with tinted windows. Cüneyt held the door as I inserted myself, Audrey Hepburn-style, into the waiting vehicle. First I elegantly slid my bottom onto the seat, then I drew in my legs, keeping my knees and ankles together. As he shut the door, Cüneyt winked at me. He always does that. It’s his way to confirm that he’s memorized the license plate. A simple precaution taken for all the girls. The only difference is that there are so many girls these days, he has to jot the numbers down. It’s a tiny safeguard I’ve developed.
n front of the door was a black Volkswagen Passat with tinted windows. Cüneyt held the door as I inserted myself, Audrey Hepburn-style, into the waiting vehicle. First I elegantly slid my bottom onto the seat, then I drew in my legs, keeping my knees and ankles together. As he shut the door, Cüneyt winked at me. He always does that. It’s his way to confirm that he’s memorized the license plate. A simple precaution taken for all the girls. The only difference is that there are so many girls these days, he has to jot the numbers down. It’s a tiny safeguard I’ve developed.
Süleyman got behind the wheel. We were off.
“You’re late,” he said flatly.
“I ran into some important guests on my way out. I had to speak to them,” I apologized. “Forgive me. I hope I haven’t kept you waiting for too long.”
“No, not for that long. After waiting inside for two hours, what’s a few more minutes?”
He kept his eyes on the road. With a press of his finger, the doors were locked.
“Why’d you lock the doors?” I asked.
“It’s safer.”
I wondered who or what we would be safe from, but I said nothing. Seeing as he didn’t like talking, I sat in silence and thought. His hand was on the gearshift. I placed my hand on top of it. He turned and smiled at me. He was attractive, and I was on my way to a brief tryst with him. There was also the question of payback for that thug of a taxi driver, Hüseyin. The girls and my employees know that under normal circumstances I won’t easily leave the club for this sort of thing.
He hadn’t turned on any music, despite the car’s expensive stereo. The air conditioner hummed quietly. After the hot taxis I’d endured all day, I luxuriated in the coolness. I enjoyed traveling in a style I believed I deserved. I dispensed with the erect Hepburn pose and settled back into my seat.
I raised my hand from his and placed it on his leg. After seeming slightly startled, he once again fixed me with that bold flirtatious stare.
Other books
The Day Before by Liana Brooks
The Goddess Within by Amarinda Jones
Beastly by Alex Flinn
Hell's Half Acre by Baer Will Christopher
The Proviso by Moriah Jovan
Thursdays with the Crown by Jessica Day George
BOOK I by Genevieve Roland
Indivisible Line by Lorenz Font
Ghost Light by Joseph O'Connor
Roadside Picnic by Strugatsky, Boris, Strugatsky, Arkady
