When the rusty ferry whistle blew, tearing through the leaden waters of the gulf, Yekta was sitting on one of the wooden benches on the open deck, sipping tea from a slim-waisted glass.
Yekta wore his usual faded, worn-out worker’s jacket. A young mother sitting across from him, catching sight of the horrific chainsaw wound on Yekta’s neck, hurriedly pulled her little boy closer and looked the other way.
This was the purest form of arrogance. Yet, beneath that coarse bandage lay the masterfully covered-up sole mistake of Izmir’s most perfect murder.
He pulled his gaze away from the masses looking at him with pity and turned it toward the gunwale of the ferry, toward the crowd standing against the wind. He was surrounded by weeds, ordinary and ugly shrubs.
The dark red hair cascading over the woman’s shoulders whipped around like a flame in the gulf’s wind. Every time she raised her arm to tear off a piece of simit, the shawl slipped back slightly, revealing the flawless, porcelain-white curve of her neck. The calloused fingers holding his tea glass contracted involuntarily.
When the woman turned her head slightly to the side, a small, emerald-studded pendant dangling at the end of a thin gold chain sparkled on her neck.
The fingers of his right hand slipped smoothly into his pocket, caressing the leather sheath of that cold, crescent-tipped pruning knife from the outside. As the sun set behind Karşıyaka, harvest time was approaching. The voices of street vendors echoing in the narrow alleys faded away in the cool, dim courtyards of the historic inns. Superintendent Selim had screamed at her, “Forget the paste at the crime scene, this is a mugging, we are closing the case!”. The predatory hunter’s instinct inside her was screaming that the transparent resin on the victim’s neck could not belong to an ordinary killer. Behind the counter stood a grumpy old man in thick-rimmed glasses, buried in the ledger in his hands.
“Good work, master,” Aylin said, her voice cutting like a knife in the dimness of the shop. A special blend.”. He slowly closed the ledger. “That is a first-class, imported sealant. It’s expensive on the market, not easy to find.”. Her eyes were memorizing the man’s every micro-expression
“Rarely,” the man said with a shrug. Or large importers with massive greenhouses. They hold the tender; they prune all the trees in Izmir.”. Metropolitan Municipality Parks and Gardens Directorate.. She had convinced herself so thoroughly that a killer was too “flawless and talented” to be a mere municipal worker that she instantly molded this glaring truth to fit her own complex theory. A high-level, intelligent psychopath who can get in and out of municipal depots, perhaps hacked the logistics system or steals materials from the inside
“Thank you, master,” Aylin said. She wouldn’t return to the department and bow down to Selim.
At the Karşıyaka pier, when the ferry’s heavy iron ramp crashed onto the dock with a massive roar, the thick mooring ropes were thrown.
The red-haired woman adjusted the emerald pendant on her neck and blended into the crowd. Izmir’s darkness had reawakened beneath that neon yellow cloak, and tonight, a new flower would be added to that flawless garden42Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ03hTOKFump
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