The beaming assistant shut her eyes and nodded her approval.

“Furthermore, we’re aware that a criminal investigation is currently underway.”

“Well then, the police should come and have a look. Wouldn’t you agree?” I asked.

“Unless you possess documentation demonstrating your relationship…”

“I don’t,” I said. “I wasn’t his wife or anything like that.”

“Yes, we can see that” was his dry response.

Normally I would have been mortified, but at that moment I couldn’t have cared less.

“So then,” I said, “you have, of course, informed the police?”

“Not yet…”

“Why not?” I persisted. “As far as I understand, the police are to be notified immediately in these circumstances.”

“There are certain… sensitivities involved,” he continued, carefully choosing his words. “We make every effort, whatever the circumstances, to protect the interests of our customers…”

“Hmmm,” I said. I raised my left eyebrow as high as it could go. “But I’ve got the key.”

“I’m afraid that’s irrelevant.”

The cheery assistant was there to rubberstamp her boss’s every remark. Once again, she shut her eyes and nodded affirmation. She probably had a limited set of facial expressions, smiles, and head movements, each of them appropriate to a particular situation.

We eyed one another. I looked them up and down; they did the same to me. All three of us were perfectly calm. We were still in the early stages of sizing up and assessing.

I was too close now to back down. I’d never forgive myself. I compiled a list of multiple choices:

(a) Give up and go home.

(b) Try bargaining. That’s what they seemed to expect, after all.

(c) Get the police involved; that is, ask Selçuk for his help in accessing the box.

(d) Wait for them to make the first move. Only then decide on a course of action.

Neither “all of the above” nor “none of the above” were options. None of the choices satisfied me, but I decided on D before switching to B at the last second.

My self-confidence had returned, along with my sense of style. I sat down and crossed my legs.

“So, what should I do?” I asked.

Playing a dumb blonde often does the trick, but, thanks to his background as an inspector, the manager was proving to be a tough nut indeed.

“Allow me to offer you something to drink,” he said. “Please take a seat…”

I was already sitting. I just looked at him.

Ms. Cheery sat down in the armchair opposite; the manager settled into the high-backed leather chair behind his desk.

“What would you like? A cup of Turkish coffee?”

“Unsweetened, please,” I said.

The assistant had dialed the number of the beverage service already.

“I’ll have one as well, Gülben Hanım.”

So that was the name of the assistant now ordering herself a medium-sweet Turkish coffee.

The weather was discussed in the short time it took for the coffee to arrive.

The moment the office boy left the room with his empty tray, the manager got down to business.

“You’re not the only one interested in Volkan Bey’s safe-deposit box.”

“Do you mean the police?”

Eyes closed, Gülben Hanım shook her head from side to side this time.

“The person in question,” he continued, slurping his first sip of coffee and establishing beyond doubt his class, or lack thereof, “is one of our most valued customers.”

I’d grown impatient and tossed off the first name that came to mind.

“Nimet Hanoğlu?”

Dear Gülben’s eyes had narrowed, but her head remained stationary. It was either a halfhearted endorsement, or she had withheld automatic approbation at the last moment.

“You’ve made her acquaintance?”

“In a sense,” I said, remembering what she’d sent me. No doubt, they were still sprawled out on my floor.

“What do you propose?” I suddenly asked.

They hadn’t expected me to be so direct but didn’t react in the least, except for exchanging glances. It didn’t take a genius to see that they were in on this together, whatever it was.

“We could invite her here…”

“What difference would her coming here make?” I said, stubbornly playing dumb. “Is she the executor?”

They exchanged glances again as they plotted the best response. I had to hand it to them: Without a word, a sound, or even much facial movement they were able to communicate with each other perfectly.

They’d reached agreement. A sympathetic expression on his face, the manager turned to me.

“Maybe we could be of service. Provided that Nimet Hanım is allowed access first…”

“But that would be fraud…” I said.

He continued smiling. He was a cool character indeed. Good for him.

“Special clients deserve special treatment. I hope that you appreciate that.”

“Of course I do, efendim.” I smiled. “And I, too, will soon be joining the ranks of the ‘special’?”

His smile widened.

“Naturally. Had you doubted it?”

“Well, what if I decide to file a complaint? I could inform the police, or ask them to open the box.”

“You could, certainly,” he said. “But it might not be in your best interests. We all know about… certain developments. You may wish to reconsider.”

So, that pillar of respectability, Nimet Hanım, was acting as a kind of benefactress for the manager and his assistant. They were eating out of the palm of her hand. In a bid to get the key, not only had she sent her thugs after me, she’d also ensured that I’d be thwarted once I arrived at the bank, if I ever did.

I had no idea if Selçuk would be able to protect me if the police got involved. I couldn’t risk it. What’s more, for all my success in previous cases, in this one I was now a suspect-or under suspicion, at least.

If Nimet Hanım came, the box would at last be opened, and I, too, would be permitted access. But I had no way of knowing how much Nimet and her banker flunkies would actually allow me to see. I was all alone and felt quite sorry for myself. If only I had someone to support me, to encourage me and give me strength. But there was no one!

The manager broke the silence.

“So, efendim, what it is to be? You do realize that you’re not the rightful owner of that key.”

I ignored the veiled threat. It’s not like they’d be able to wrest it away from me. Not here, in a bank full of customers.

“It doesn’t belong to Nimet Hanım, either,” I said.

He pretended to smile. But his eyes continued to bore into me.

Sometimes my recklessness scares me. What was I thinking when I agreed to wait for Nimet Hanoğlu to open the safe-deposit box?

The great lady was phoned, and her presence politely requested. I was offered another cup of Turkish coffee. Gülben even went so far as to suggest that Necla Hanım, over in operations, be permitted to read my cup, assuring me that her fortune-telling was always spot on. Clearly, Nimet Hanım wouldn’t be arriving any time soon.

A second cup of coffee would be too much for my stomach, but I liked the idea of having my fortune read.

“Perhaps a bit later,” I said.

The manager and I waited tensely in our respective seats. Gülben flitted in and out of the office, no doubt imagining herself to be “on top of things.” Peering at the computer screen on his desk, the manager was the picture of industry. I wasn’t fooled. The waiting game must have been equally excruciating for him.

I thought it best to amuse myself with pleasant thoughts. I ran through Audrey Hepburn’s filmography from start to finish, and back again. Then I busied myself with choosing a favorite from among her leading men. Even though he was well past his prime, and so nervous about playing opposite the young Audrey that he’d had a last-minute face-lift before shooting began, the legendary Gary Cooper deserved top spot. After all, he’d received the Tallulah Bankhead stamp of approval when she’d declared, “The only reason I went to Hollywood was to fuck that divine Gary Cooper, and to make the odd film.” All of his leading ladies, from Ingrid Bergman to Patricia Neal, had fallen for him. Who was I to turn up my nose? Yes, top of the list definitely went to Gary Cooper.