of the event he of course knew how the evening was going to proceed. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘You have time.’ Then he smiled. ‘But don’t walk all the way out to the front entrance, go out the back door, through the ballroom, it’s closer.’
‘I will.’
When İ kmen got outside, he found that he wasn’t alone. An elderly rabbi he knew by sight, plus a lot of rather elegant-looking men that he didn’t know at all were also availing themselves of the ashtrays outside the ballroom. And then there was Süleyman.
‘Saw you deep in eye-to-eye contact with Lale Aktar,’ İ kmen said as his friend came and joined him.
Jumping up and down on the spot in order to keep warm, Süleyman said, ‘Just chit-chat.’
‘Yes, and I am the Shah of Iran,’ İ kmen replied acidly. ‘I know you, Mehmet, don’t even try to fool me.’
Süleyman lit a cigarette and then smiled.
‘Even if she offers herselfto you on a plate, you mustn’t do anything,’ İ kmen continued. ‘Krikor is very good friends with her husband, he’d take it as a betrayal. I’d take it as a betrayal.’
Süleyman didn’t answer. He looked up at the elderly buildings that remained on Me ş rutiyet Street and wondered whether the old Londra Hotel, diagonally opposite the Pera Palas, was still like some sort of dusty belle époque museum. He didn’t want to think about what İ kmen had just said to him and he certainly didn’t want to make him any sort of promise. Lale Aktar was a very attractive woman who had run one of her smooth, slim legs up against his thigh several times during the course of the dinner. But luckily for him, İ kmen changed the subject.
‘So who do you think is going to get killed?’ he asked. ‘Will it be the prince? The princess? The young brother? The Armenian? The governess? The Greek woman?’
Süleyman, glad to be far away from the subject of Lale Aktar, said, ‘Mmm. I’ve a feeling there is some serious business between the prince and the Armenian.’
‘The prince is bankrupt and it may well be that he is indebted to the Armenian.’
‘Stereotypical, but it may be true,’ Süleyman said. ‘But, you know, I wondered whether they were lovers.’
‘So did I.’
‘Not something thatmany of the clerics in our party would approve of, but the actors are young and maybe they’re keen to push the boundaries and sensibilities of their audiences. I can’t see Dr Krikor having a problem with that either.’
‘So the Armenian may kill the prince because he has defaulted on a loan?’
Süleyman shrugged. ‘A bit obvious. Maybe he’ll kill the princess . . .’
‘I think she might have had some sort of liaison with the Italian tutor,’ İ kmen said. ‘He worked in Antep in the past, which is where she comes from, and yet he protested, I felt, rather too vehemently about not knowing her or her family. People like the princess and her family are, or were, just the type who would have had an Italian tutor on their staff.’
‘And Italians are very attractive to woman.’
İ kmen smiled. ‘Something of a generalisation, but I know what you mean.’
‘It’s partly the language, of course,’ Süleyman continued. ‘It sounds so beautiful.’
‘Makes you wonder whether your Sergeant Melik wooed my Sergeant Farsako ğ lu in Italian,’ İ kmen said and then instantly regretted it. İ zzet Melik did indeed speak perfect Italian but İ kmen was sure Süleyman didn’t want to be reminded of that. He was not, so İ kmen had heard on the grapevine, going to attend his ex-lover’s wedding tothe sergeant. He’d made some sort of excuse about having to go and visit relatives out on the Princes’ Islands.
Süleyman didn’t want to talk about İ zzet Melik. ‘The princess could kill the Italian in an effort to silence him if she did have an affair with him in the past.’
‘So that the prince didn’t find out?’
‘She clearly loves her husband. Yes.’
Mehmet Süleyman didn’t love Ay ş e Farsako ğ
‘I will.’
When İ kmen got outside, he found that he wasn’t alone. An elderly rabbi he knew by sight, plus a lot of rather elegant-looking men that he didn’t know at all were also availing themselves of the ashtrays outside the ballroom. And then there was Süleyman.
‘Saw you deep in eye-to-eye contact with Lale Aktar,’ İ kmen said as his friend came and joined him.
Jumping up and down on the spot in order to keep warm, Süleyman said, ‘Just chit-chat.’
‘Yes, and I am the Shah of Iran,’ İ kmen replied acidly. ‘I know you, Mehmet, don’t even try to fool me.’
Süleyman lit a cigarette and then smiled.
‘Even if she offers herselfto you on a plate, you mustn’t do anything,’ İ kmen continued. ‘Krikor is very good friends with her husband, he’d take it as a betrayal. I’d take it as a betrayal.’
Süleyman didn’t answer. He looked up at the elderly buildings that remained on Me ş rutiyet Street and wondered whether the old Londra Hotel, diagonally opposite the Pera Palas, was still like some sort of dusty belle époque museum. He didn’t want to think about what İ kmen had just said to him and he certainly didn’t want to make him any sort of promise. Lale Aktar was a very attractive woman who had run one of her smooth, slim legs up against his thigh several times during the course of the dinner. But luckily for him, İ kmen changed the subject.
‘So who do you think is going to get killed?’ he asked. ‘Will it be the prince? The princess? The young brother? The Armenian? The governess? The Greek woman?’
Süleyman, glad to be far away from the subject of Lale Aktar, said, ‘Mmm. I’ve a feeling there is some serious business between the prince and the Armenian.’
‘The prince is bankrupt and it may well be that he is indebted to the Armenian.’
‘Stereotypical, but it may be true,’ Süleyman said. ‘But, you know, I wondered whether they were lovers.’
‘So did I.’
‘Not something thatmany of the clerics in our party would approve of, but the actors are young and maybe they’re keen to push the boundaries and sensibilities of their audiences. I can’t see Dr Krikor having a problem with that either.’
‘So the Armenian may kill the prince because he has defaulted on a loan?’
Süleyman shrugged. ‘A bit obvious. Maybe he’ll kill the princess . . .’
‘I think she might have had some sort of liaison with the Italian tutor,’ İ kmen said. ‘He worked in Antep in the past, which is where she comes from, and yet he protested, I felt, rather too vehemently about not knowing her or her family. People like the princess and her family are, or were, just the type who would have had an Italian tutor on their staff.’
‘And Italians are very attractive to woman.’
İ kmen smiled. ‘Something of a generalisation, but I know what you mean.’
‘It’s partly the language, of course,’ Süleyman continued. ‘It sounds so beautiful.’
‘Makes you wonder whether your Sergeant Melik wooed my Sergeant Farsako ğ lu in Italian,’ İ kmen said and then instantly regretted it. İ zzet Melik did indeed speak perfect Italian but İ kmen was sure Süleyman didn’t want to be reminded of that. He was not, so İ kmen had heard on the grapevine, going to attend his ex-lover’s wedding tothe sergeant. He’d made some sort of excuse about having to go and visit relatives out on the Princes’ Islands.
Süleyman didn’t want to talk about İ zzet Melik. ‘The princess could kill the Italian in an effort to silence him if she did have an affair with him in the past.’
‘So that the prince didn’t find out?’
‘She clearly loves her husband. Yes.’
Mehmet Süleyman didn’t love Ay ş e Farsako ğ
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