The Tomb in Turkey

TWENTY-FOUR

They couldn’t get any more out of Henry about what she meant by that last remark, except that she claimed to have heard Nita was back in England, looking after her sick mother. But she would not say where she’d got that information from.

In fact, she behaved as if her agenda for their meeting had been dealt with and they didn’t need to talk any further. Jude reckoned the only item on that agenda had been double-checking whether there was a threat of her ever hooking up again with Barney. Henry seemed to consider that that question had been answered and she felt that her marriage was safe from Jude.

And she seemed equally sure that it was safe from Nita. Carole and Jude discussed that over lunch. Following one of the late tour guide’s recommendations, they ate in the Fethiye fish market. Which was excellent.

But they did have a bit of trouble finding it. As they walked through the hot streets of Fethiye, Jude suddenly pointed upwards and burst out laughing.

‘What’s so funny?’

Jude read the words on the sign. ‘“TLOS PROPERTY” – isn’t that wonderful?’

‘In what way?’

‘Well, look – “TLOS”.’

‘Yes, Tlos is a Lycian archaeological site with a Roman Amphitheatre quite near to the seaside resort of Kalkan.’

‘No, but don’t you see why it’s funny … with the word “PROPERTY”?’

‘It means it’s an estate agent, presumably catering for English buyers.’

‘I know it’s an estate agent, but don’t you think it looks like a misprint for “LOST PROPERTY”?’

‘No,’ said Carole.

When they did find it, the Fethiye fish market proved to be a circular tiled building, the central hub of which was a wide circle of fishmongers, surrounded by an outer ring of restaurants against the walls.

Carole was a little inhibited about doing something as ethnic as selecting her own fish, but Jude quickly got into flirtatious banter with one of the salesmen. On his recommendation they each chose a sea bass which looked far too big for a single meal and paid for it from the purple kitty purse.

Then, resisting the blandishments of the other restaurateurs, Carole (who’d consulted her guidebook) walked into one called Reiss Balikcilik. There, Jude ordered another beer (‘I really must limit my beer intake soon – but it’s just so refreshing’) and Carole a glass of white wine (‘that one that tastes a bit like Sauvignon Blanc’). Mezes and salads arrived as they waited for their fish to be cooked.

‘That business about Barney trying to recapture his potency by going back to earlier lovers,’ said Carole. ‘Did that ring true to you?’

‘Oh, yes, I’m afraid so. It would have been in character. And certainly in character for him not to seek medical help for his impotence problem. He’d very much think that was something he could work out for himself – and that it was his wife who was at fault rather than him. A classic case of a bad workman blaming his tools.’ Jude giggled. ‘Though that’s probably not the most apposite expression in the circumstances.’

Their fish arrived. It did look beautifully cooked, and removing the delicious flakes from the bone put a stop to their conversation for a while. Only when the last white morsel had been consumed and their oily lips been wiped clean did Carole say, ‘Well, I think our first priority is still to track down Barney.’

‘I agree. I’ll have one more go at his mobile.’

Jude did. But once again received the message that Barney’s phone was switched off.

‘So it’s back to Tulip Cottage,’ said Carole.

‘Yes. And let’s see if we can find the key in the amphora.’

They could. Both were struck by, but neither commented on, the inconsistency in the Willingdons’ attitude to security. The gates and walls of Tulip Cottage protected it as though it were Fort Knox, and yet a key was left readily available in probably the most obvious place for a would-be intruder to look.

They let themselves in and were suitably impressed by the villa that was revealed. Unlike Morning Glory, Tulip Cottage was a completely new build, not based on any existing structures. But it showed the same high spec and meticulous attention to detail. Barney Willingdon’s villas were very definitely at the luxury end of the market.

But Carole and Jude didn’t have time to take in the beauties of Tulip Cottage. There was something of much more interest on the villa’s gravel driveway.

It was Barney’s white Range Rover. The driver’s side door was open, and there was a neat bullet hole on that side of the windscreen.

As Carole and Jude drew closer, they saw that all the 4 x 4’s tyres were flat, as if they too had been shot at.

On the headrest and back of the driver’s seat were still-wet traces of blood.

Of Barney himself there was no sign.

The women were too shocked to speak, but both turned at the sound of a house door opening.

Erkan had just come out on to the terrace. In his hand there was a pistol.