Had the old man’s confession been the last straw for Anatoli? What he’d known about Yiannis’s family was enough to drive a person mad. But he must have reasoned that, although the Rudolfoğlus had literally got away with murder, there was no point in pursuing them. When Rauf Karadeniz had told him that he’d killed the siblings, it must have seemed as if the past was coming back to bite him.
Had he feared that perhaps the police would discover that he’d kept his knowledge of these old crimes to himself and blame him in some way? Had he felt that Muslim Turks would not understand the sanctity of the confessional? Or had the responsibility Yiannis knew the priest felt for his tiny, often stifling community finally become too much? Christians were fleeing Muslim lands to the south in their thousands. Maybe it was time for them all to go? The war in Syria was finally at Turkey’s eastern back door, with ISIS terrorists actually at the border. ISIS terrorists who enslaved Christians like him.
Now Yiannis lit a candle for his sister too. His family had been in İstanbul for a thousand years. Just like Father Anatoli’s people. And yet the priest had lost faith. He must have done. Either that or he had surrendered to fear. But Yiannis couldn’t surrender. Not because anyone was threatening him or urging him to stay, but because this was his home. Soon it would be where his sister was buried in a grave with a headstone that finally gave her dignity.
‘That was . . . amazing!’
Professor Vanek, aka Sami Nasi, took Süleyman’s hand and smiled.
‘Of course,’ he said. ‘My great-grandfather’s signature illusion is the best in the world!’
The young woman taking off her stage make-up in front of a scarred full-length mirror said, ‘You have to forgive Sami, Mehmet Bey, he has no genes for modesty. It’s the Hungarian in him.’
They laughed.
After the show, in which, to Süleyman’s horror, Professor Vanek had beheaded his assistant and then passed her severed head around the audience on a platter, İkmen had taken him to the filthy room that passed for backstage. Up close, Süleyman discovered that the professor was a lot older than he looked on stage. But he was still a handsome, vigorous presence who he could easily see fulfilled every need that even İkmen had for the unusual.
‘One day we will find out how he does it,’ İkmen said.
‘No you won’t.’
İkmen put a hand on his arm. ‘I was joking.’ He turned to Süleyman. ‘You know, Mehmet Bey, Sami’s great-grandfather performed for Sultan Abdülmecid.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes. And Sami, you should know that Mehmet Bey is related to our imperial family.’
The magician gave a deep bow. ‘Honoured.’
‘Oh, it’s nothing, believe me,’ Süleyman said.
The professor took him at his word and changed the subject. ‘Well, my news is that I am finally going to marry,’ he said.
İkmen almost dropped his cigarette. ‘You? You’ve run away from commitment all your life!’
The assistant came and stood beside the magician.
‘Rüya has done me the honour of accepting my proposal of marriage,’ he said.
‘A man who cuts my head off, how crazy am I?’ she said. But she was laughing.
‘Oh, that’s wonderful!’ İkmen said. He shook his friend’s hand. ‘I don’t know how you’ve managed to bewitch this beautiful woman, Sami, but I am truly, truly happy for both of you.’
Süleyman said, ‘Congratulations.’
‘Thank you,’ said Sami Nasi. Then, oddly, he frowned. ‘Are you married, Mehmet Bey?’ he asked.
Rüya hit him on the arm. ‘Sami! That’s personal stuff! You don’t ask those questions.’
‘Oh don’t be so Turkish!’
‘I am Turkish!’ she said. ‘Stop being so Hungarian!’
He looked at Süleyman. ‘Well, Mehmet Bey?’
‘No,’ he said. ‘No, I’m not.’ Then he added, ‘I believe that particular boat may have sailed for me.’
The magician widened his eyes. ‘A young, good-looking man like you? Nonsense.’
Süleyman smiled but looked away.
Later, they all walked up to İstiklal Caddesi to go to a bar. İkmen, arm in arm with Rüya, led the way. Süleyman walked behind them with Sami Nasi, who suddenly turned to him and said, ‘You know, you should send roses to her, Mehmet Bey. Seven. No more, no less.’
For a moment, he felt angry. Had İkmen told this man about his split with Gonca? Though he hadn’t even told İkmen himself!
‘Imbue each one with your love.’
‘My love? What are you talking about?’ Süleyman said. ‘You don’t know anything about me!’
‘Oh, I think I do,’ Professor Vanek said. ‘And if you take my advice, you will win her heart. But only seven roses, mind. Five won’t work at all, eight will be a disaster, and six, well six is just a joke.’
They arrived in the middle of the night. Her father was entertaining his friends with stories about his dancing bears. Gonca had heard them all before, and so she went out into her garden.
She’d just lit a cigarette when she saw them. A bunch of flowers on the table half hidden by the mulberry bushes. As she got closer, she saw that they were red roses. Neatly arranged in a vase, they were fresh, dewy and beautiful.
Hard as she looked, she couldn’t see any sort of card attached to the arrangement. But she knew who they’d come from, and for a moment, the realisation winded her. She sat down. There were seven blooms. How did he know about the power of seven? Someone like him? Had İkmen told him?
Seven was special. If a child was born on the seventh day of the week, he or she was blessed. That was what her mother and her aunts always said. She had no idea why. Gonca herself had been born on the seventh day of the week. Her mother, all her life, had believed that her daughter had been given special magic because of this.
But what was she to do with these roses? And why did she suddenly feel so exposed and lonely without her terrible, unfaithful, beautiful lover? If she had been asked to describe how his absence made her feel, she would have said that it was as if someone had stolen her life away. Was this maybe his way of saying he wanted to give it back?
If you enjoyed THE HOUSE OF FOUR, try the previous novels in the Inspector İkmen series . . .
And don’t miss the other novels in the Inspector İkmen series:
Belshazzar’s Daughter
A Chemical Prison
Arabesk
Deep Waters
Harem
Petrified
Deadly Web
Dance with Death
A Passion for Killing
Pretty Dead Things
River of the Dead
Death by Design
A Noble Killing
Dead of Night
Deadline
Body Count
Land of the Blind
On the Bone
The House of Four
All available to download in ebook now.
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The House of Four Page 30
