Chapter Seventy-one

INGRID TURNED AND, thanks to a fortuitous arrangement of the chairs, I was looking at both of them at the precise moment they saw each other.

No flicker of affection, no secret sign of acknowledgement, passed between them. They looked at one another exactly as you would expect of casual acquaintances. If they were acting, they sure carried it off – then again, for a billion-two you’d expect a good performance, wouldn’t you?

‘Hi, ’ Cameron said to Ingrid, extending her hand. ‘I didn’t expect to see you here. They said I could get my passport. ’

‘Me too, ’ Ingrid replied bitterly, and jerked a thumb accusingly in Hayrunnisa’s direction. ‘Mr Wilson here was just asking if you were bisexual. ’

‘Oh, yeah? ’ Cameron replied. ‘And what did you tell him? ’ She pulled out a seat and sat down. She had no apparent anxiety either, and I had to admire their self-possession.

‘I said you were – but only with black chicks. I figured as we were dealing with a male fantasy we might as well go the whole nine yards. ’

Cameron laughed.

‘Murder isn’t a male fantasy, ’ I said.

I told Cameron it was now a homicide investigation, and I explained about the fireworks and taking the mirrors to Florence. All the time, however, I was trying to assess the two of them, to get some clue to their actual relationship – were they lovers or just two attractive women who had drifted into Bodrum and were nothing more than ships in the night? Was it Ingrid I had heard in the bedroom? Who was the woman who knew about the secret passage and – I was certain – had induced Dodge to go to the cliff and then tipped him over the edge?

‘I have a photograph of Dodge and the killer in the library together. All I need is the face, ’ I said.

They both looked at me, shocked at the existence of the photo – that was gossip they hadn’t heard.

‘Was it your idea – developing the mirrors? ’ Ingrid asked, and I sensed a change in the atmosphere. She may not have thought much of my clothes, but she had a new-found respect for my abilities.

‘Yeah, ’ I replied.

‘Helluva thing to come up with, ’ she said thoughtfully.

I started to explain the difficulties facing somebody attempting to get on to the estate unseen. ‘There has to be a secret pathway, a passage, so to speak. ’

But I didn’t get any further. Ingrid bent down and lifted her cheap bag on to the table. ‘Sorry, ’ she said. ‘I need something for my cold. ’

While she was trying to find the throat lozenges, the bag slipped and spilled its contents on to the table and floor. Cameron and I bent and picked up lipsticks, change, a battered camera and a dozen other trivial things. As I stood up, I saw that Ingrid was gathering the remainder of her stuff off the table and putting it back in her bag. Still unclaimed was a glass tube with a picture of a flower etched into its side.

‘Perfume? ’ I said, picking it up.

‘Yeah, ’ she replied. ‘I got it in the Grand Bazaar in Istanbul – some guy blends it by hand. It’s a bit strong – can take out an elephant at fifty paces. ’

I smiled, took the cap off and sprayed my hand. ‘Gardenia, ’ I said.

She looked at my face, and she knew something was wrong. ‘What are you – a fucking horticulturalist? ’ She tried to laugh, and took the perfume back, but it was too late.

All the doubts I had about her voice had been dispelled. I knew with certainty it had been her in Cameron’s bedroom: when I stepped out of the guest room and headed for the secret elevator I had smelt the same unique scent hanging in the hallway after she had passed.

‘No, not a horticulturalist, ’ I said. ‘I’m a special agent with the FBI investigating several murders. Gianfranco, the guy you named your dog after – how long did you date him? ’

She and Cameron heard the aggression in my voice and they knew that everything had changed.

‘What’s Gianfranco got to do with anything? ’ Ingrid asked.

‘Answer the question, Ms Kohl. ’

‘I don’t recall. ’

‘He showed you the tunnel into the house? ’

‘What house? ’

‘Cameron’s. ’

‘There’s no tunnel into my house, ’ Cameron offered.

I turned to her, surprised at my own anger – Dodge was her husband, and in all the interviews her friends had said that he adored her. ‘Don’t tell me there’s no tunnel – I’ve walked along it. ’

‘So? Even if there is, ’ Ingrid interrupted, ‘nobody ever showed it to me. ’

‘Gianfranco says that he did. ’ I was making it up, hoping to shake the hell out of her. It didn’t work.

‘Then he’s a liar, ’ she shot back. Cameron had been badly thrown by both the information and my anger, but not Ingrid – she stepped up to the line and came right back at me.

‘You believe him? ’ she said. ‘Franco’s your witness? A guy who feels up middle-aged women on the beach for ten and change. Any decent lawyer would tear him to shreds. Did you ask him about dealing weed, huh? Or find out that his name’s not Gianfranco and he’s not Italian – but what woman is gonna have a fantasy about getting head from a guy called Abdul? But you knew that, of course—’

She looked at my face as I was inwardly berating myself – I had sensed there was something in Gianfranco’s English that was more Istanbul than Naples, but I hadn’t taken the time to think it through.

‘Oh, I see the nationality escaped you, ’ she said, smiling.

‘It’s not relevant. I don’t care what his name or country is. ’

‘I care, ’ she responded. ‘It goes to the question of credibility. Gianfranco’s got none and so far you’re batting on less. ’

‘You a lawyer, Ms Kohl? ’

‘No – but I read a lot. ’

There was something in the way she delivered the line and turned her eyes on me that made me think of bare boards and a cold rehearsal room. I took a stab.

‘Where was it – New York, LA? ’

‘Where was what? ’

‘You studied acting. ’

Ingrid didn’t react, but I saw Cameron glance at her and I knew I was right.

‘You can theorize whatever you like, ’ she responded. ‘If Abdul – I mean, Gianfranco – knows a secret way into the house, then I would say it’s him in the photo. He probably killed Dodge. ’

‘That makes no sense, ’ I retorted. ‘What’s the motive? ’

‘What’s mine? ’

‘I think you and Cameron are lovers. I think you both planned it and did it for the money. ’

She laughed. ‘Cameron and I are strangers. We’ve run into each other half a dozen times. The longest time we’ve spent together was in a vet’s surgery. Some love affair. ’

‘That’s all true for Ingrid Kohl, ’ I said. ‘But I don’t believe you are really Ingrid Kohl—’

‘Then take a look at my passport, ’ she fired back. ‘This is total bullshit. Jesus! Of course I’m Ingrid Kohl. ’

‘No, ’ I replied. ‘I think you stole an identity. I think you’re acting a part. I believe that, whatever your real name is, you and Cameron have known each other for a long time – maybe you even grew up together. You left Turkey Scratch, or wherever it was, and went to New York. Then both of you came to Bodrum for one reason – to kill Dodge. That’s a capital crime and, even if you avoid the injection, you’ll both spend the rest of your lives in jail. ’

Ingrid smiled. ‘Turkey Scratch? That’s funny. You make that up – like you did the rest of it? ’

‘We’ll see. I’m not done yet—’

‘Well, I am. ’ She turned to Cameron. ‘I don’t know about you, but I want a lawyer. ’

‘Yeah, I need legal advice too, ’ Cameron replied, looking like a deer in the headlights. She grabbed her bag and started to stand.

‘No, ’ I said. ‘I’ve got a series of questions. ’

‘Are we being charged? ’ Ingrid demanded.

I didn’t say anything – it was clear she wasn’t easily bullied.

‘I thought so, ’ she said into the silence. ‘You can’t hold us, can you? You don’t have any jurisdiction here. ’ She smiled.

Cameron was already heading for the door. Ingrid picked up the throat lozenges and tossed them into her bag. As she slung it over her shoulder she turned and stood close to me. I couldn’t help it, I felt like I was flying a kite in a thunderstorm.

‘You think you’re very smart, but you don’t know about me or Cameron or anything. You don’t know half of what’s happening. Nowhere near. You’re lost and you’re grasping at straws, that’s what this is all about. Sure, you figure you’ve got some evidence. Let me tell you something else I read – “evidence is a list of the material you’ve got. What about the things you haven’t found? What do you call that? ” ’

It was my turn to smile. ‘Good quote – a fine piece of writing, ’ I said. I knew then it was she who had killed the woman in New York and dumped her in a bath of acid.

‘The quote comes from a book called Principles of Modern Investigative Technique by a man called Jude Garrett, ’ I continued. ‘And I know where you got that book – you borrowed it from the New York Public Library on a fake Florida driver’s licence. You took it back to Room 89 at the Eastside Inn, where you were living, and used it as a manual to kill someone. How’s that for evidence? ’

She looked at me expressionless – my God, it was a triumph of self-control on her part. But her silence told me it had rocked her world, ripped the canvas of her meticulous crime from top to bottom.

She pivoted and walked out. I figured that, within an hour, Cameron would be lawyering up, paying for a regiment of top-flight advisers, but it wouldn’t help them much – I understood what they had done, everything from the day the Twin Towers fell to the real reason why there were lacerations on Dodge’s hands.

I paid no attention, however, to what she had said about not understanding the half of it. I thought it was just boasting, cheap bar-talk, but that was underestimating her. I should have picked up every stitch, I should have listened and thought about every word.

I glanced up and caught Hayrunnisa’s eye. She was staring at me, seriously impressed. ‘Wow! ’ she said.

I smiled modestly. ‘Thank you. ’

‘Not you, ’ she replied. ‘Her. Wow! ’

If I was honest, though, I agreed. Ingrid Kohl – or whatever her name was – had done a great job during the interview, better than I had ever expected. Even so, there was plenty of stuff on the camera that I knew would help convict her in court. I picked up the device and I couldn’t help myself – I started laughing.

‘What is it? ’ Hayrunnisa asked.

‘You were right, ’ I said. ‘Wow! It was no accident she spilled the stuff out of her bag – it was a diversion. She turned the fucking camera off. ’