Free A Noble Killing by Barbara Nadel Page B

say? And these men then share the photographs amongst them?’
    ‘Yes. All members of the group can be involved with different girls at the same time. They can all share photographs and videos and sell them on to others outside the group too. These images can end up anywhere – even abroad.’
    ‘So Osman Yavuz could be one of a group?’
    ‘Yes,’ İskender said. ‘Do you have any idea where he might be?’
    ‘No. His description and photograph have been circulated. His grandmother in Beşiktaş thought he was with his mother in Bursa. But he isn’t there,’ İkmen said. ‘No one seems to know where he is, or rather no one is admitting to having that knowledge. His mobile phone is dead. He’s probably ditched that. All we really know about him is that he was lazy and isolated. His grandmother said that he had no friends, and yet if I recall correctly, he spent a lot of his time texting, which—’
    ‘He could have been texting the girl or other members of a sexting ring,’ İskender said. ‘You know, Inspector, from what you’ve told me, I have to admit that this Yavuz character does sound suspicious.’
    ‘I didn’t know how suspicious until I spoke to you,’ İkmen said.
    İskender shrugged. ‘It’s about knowing what to look for. Which brings us to the inevitable question about whether or not the apartment this man shared with his grandmother has been searched.’
    ‘It hasn’t, no,’ İkmen said. ‘Not yet.’
    ‘Well then it must be,’ İskender replied. ‘And given the circumstances, maybe I should be the one to do it.’

Chapter 8
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    The other mechanics had tried to break the fight up, but now that Lokman Seyhan had pulled a knife, everybody was standing well back. Only one of the men had noticed that Orhan Bey, the owner of the garage, had disappeared very soon after the fight had begun. The rest of them knew that natural justice had to be allowed to take its course, whatever the result. This was bitter brother-against-brother violence, and it seemed to them to be about something that was deeply personal to both of them.
    ‘You dare to show your filthy face here!’ Lokman Seyhan screamed at his brother Kenan. ‘Womb-scraping!’
    ‘All you know is how to kill!’ Kenan yelled through the tears that ran down his cheeks. ‘You kill everything I love!’
    Lokman lunged at him with the knife, missing Kenan’s face by less than a centimetre. ‘Arse-giver!’
    ‘Bringing death in the name of religion! Using Islam to excuse your sadism! Blasphemer!’
    ‘You call me a blasphemer!’ Lokman laughed. ‘You son of a donkey, cock-sucking—’
    ‘Murderer! You are no brother of mine! Pull a knife on me? Kill me too, will you, Lokman? Who is going to be your next victim? Our mother?’
    ‘ Our mother? You were born of a djinn and a whore and came out of the womb of a donkey!’ Lokman lunged again. ‘Why don’t you fight me like a man, Kenan? Why don’t you draw your knife and let’s get really busy?’
    A usual day for the Beşiktaş Garage mechanics involved some oil changes, tyre replacement and maybe the fitting of a new exhaust. Murder had never been on their agenda. True, men had sometimes had the odd fight that sometimes had involved knives, but when Kenan Seyhan pulled a gun out of his jacket pocket, they all instinctively took another step back.
    ‘Maybe it is for the best that Orhan Bey went to get the police,’ the oldest man whispered to the youngest. ‘We cannot be party to death!’
    Lokman Seyhan, whose face had now turned white, looked his brother in the eyes and said, ‘So you’re going to shoot me.’
    Kenan took the safety catch off and smiled. ‘It’s an act of revenge,’ he said. ‘You know all about that, don’t you, Lokman!’
    Mehmet Süleyman showered and dressed and had already switched on his laptop when Gonca came into the bedroom with his tea. Once he had finished all the work associated with the homicide in Şişli the previous day, he had