“Sweetie!” she said. “What on earth’s going on here? Tell me quick. I dropped everything and came straight over. I’m dying of curiosity. Don’t do this to me! Come on, tell me everything this instant!”

“All in good time,” I said coolly.

“What do you mean, ayol?” she snapped. “I’m not like them. I’ve got to work for a living. I have a show to put on.” Ponpon’s words were accompanied by a sweeping wave of the arm that condemned those present who had not found gainful nocturnal employment.

“It won’t take long. Take a seat, if you like,” I said in my calmest voice.

“And if I don’t like?”

Hands on her hips, Ponpon had thrown back her head. She’d neglected to apply foundation under her chin. I even spotted some shadowy stubble.

Leaning forward, I whispered in her ear. Her hands and chin shot down to a more appropriate level. Cupping her chin, she shot me a wink. She looked slightly embarrassed.

“And stop screeching,” I added. “Everything’s on track. I only invited you because I thought you’d want to see for yourself. And it’d take too long to tell you all about it later…”

Flashing me a look of sisterly solidarity, she trotted off to her chair.

Cihad2000 was the only person none of the other guests had met. He was sitting in his wheelchair, of course. I introduced him to Nimet, and then to the others, not explaining why he was there. Then I shook hands with all present, saving Haluk for last.

Hikmet looked nothing like his younger sister, Nimet. He was dark, with searching, intelligent eyes and a firm handshake. On his cheek was a lesion of the sort we call an “Eastern Boil.” He spoke in a deep, reassuring baritone. I could see why Nimet had insisted he come. With Selçuk and Hikmet both present, one in an official capacity and the other in an informal one, we’d be safe. Still, those eyes of his missed nothing, and I felt like I was under constant observation.

Wearing a Prince de Galles jacket, Sami was tiny, thin, and totally bald. His blue eyes looked even smaller behind the thick lenses of his rimless glasses. His hands were small, too. And hot. We exchanged “good evenings.” His lips were thin to the point of non-existence. He looked like a real hothead to me.

“It’d be nice to meet privately for a change,” said Selçuk, who was in a dark suit for the occasion. To his mind, he was among the crème de la crème, and he’d dressed appropriately. He gave me a friendly hug. I introduced him using only his first name, with no mention of his title. For obvious reasons, it was too early to mention the presence of a commissioner in our midst.

“Now remember your promise,” I said to him softly. “No interference without a sign from me.”

“I’ve exceeded my jurisdiction just by being here. We could all be taken in for aiding and abetting. This isn’t right. You should have let me bring a colleague. You know this isn’t my department,” he whispered.

“You’re enough for me,” I said, giving his arm a squeeze. “You’re the only one I trust.”

Holding Refik’s hand, Okan was cowering in either fear or embarrassment. In an exaggerated show of respect, he kissed Nimet’s hand and touched the hand to his bowed head. He didn’t even shake mine, settling for an arid merhaba. So, I hadn’t been forgiven for the thrashing of the day before.

Refik looked at me timidly.

“I hope you’re not up to no good,” he said as he shook my hand. “You’ll save my Okan, won’t you? I couldn’t take it if you didn’t…”

What could I say? He’d have to take it, or else what?

“I trust you…” he threw in as I moved along to the next guest.

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.