“What are you doing”? “I’m just looking at the internet.” “But this is our 1920s days, there was no internet then, was there?” Percy said sternly. Percy and Sissy were respected and wealthy members of the Ayvalık community, arriving in the area from the States a few years ago, quickly gobbling up all the major businesses in town and able to do pretty much anything they wanted. It was even rumoured that a police patrol came regularly dropping alcohol off at their house, when it was banned on certain days and times.
She took a sip of her ice gin and tonic, sitting on the balcony of their house that overlooked the village, included Mr and Mrs Miller’s small but adequate house. “Well, did you find anything?”
“Yes, dear.” Her floppy hat shading her eyes staring at her dapper husband, both dressed as if they had just walked off the cover of the Great Gatsby. “Let me see, yes, here it is, a young woman was murdered, covered in leaves and left at the wayside of a road in Maine, 1926. They never found out who she was or who did it.” “Well, that’s fascinating. Should we give it a go?” Taking a long drag of his cigar. “Oh, let’s Percy!” she says, throwing her arms around him, her leg slightly cocked 1920’s style.
“I’m a detective!” “Going to the police station doesn’t make you a detective,” my wife said wearily.” “I’m not supposed to tell anyone,” I said, then word for word told her everything that happened. “But I thought they suspected you?” “No, they know I had nothing to do with it.” She waited for the inevitable percentage. “I’m going to bed now, I have to remember if I saw anything suspicious and will then retrace my steps in the morning, good night.” She sat scratching her head, not that I was now a ‘detective’ but the neurosis had for once disappeared in a puff of smoke.
There was a palpable excitement and mystery in the air as Percy and Sissy drove out in the wee small hours. “This is so exciting,” said Sissy stamping her feet like a teenager, “I was getting so bored. Where are we going?” “You said the girl was about 19, dark hair.” “Yes, dear.” “Refugee boats are where we will find her.” “You are so clever,” she said, looking longingly into his eyes. Percy felt like a man again. Their love life had been waning; well, this might do the trick. “We’ll wait here.” They parked close to the sea. Turkish authorities had long since given up making catching refugees a priority and would just do a nonchalant visit mid-day. As if on cue a boat ran ashore, they went down to “help” and as if by magic, there she was, about 19 with dark hair. Sissy gave Percy a knowing look. They dragged her up. “She looks hurt, does anyone speak English?” Blank faces stared back at him. Perfect, he muttered to himself. The sea-soaked girl sat motionless in the back of the car. “So how was the girl killed?” Staring into the rear-view mirror to make sure she didn’t understand. “Let me see,” flicking through pages on her phone. “Yes, here it is, strangulation.” “OK, get in the back, pretend to give her water.” “Oh, yes I will, Percy.” They stopped by the wayside and Sissy grabbed the poor girl’s throat with all her strength. She quickly passed out. “Well, that was easy,” feeling pretty proud of herself. Then with a cough and splutter the girl started to come around. Percy quickly grabbed a hammer from the boot and smashed her skull. The girl slunk back without a murmur. “Oh, Percy what have you done? There’s blood all over our new car!” It will wash out,” holding his wife tenderly around the waist. Driving back, they found a nice secluded spot to cover the body with leaves and bramble, forgetting, however, the wind may disturb this. Back in the car. “Ok, go through the list Sissy.” “Well, urm, 19 (check), dark hair (check), strangled (check)...” “Oh, don’t get upset, you did your best Sissy.” “Buried in leaves and brambles (check).” He kissed her tears and she softly touched his neck. “This was a lovely day.” “It was my love, we must do it again.”
To be continued on Saturdays...
