On the one hand she was a pious, covered village woman, the very image of respectability, but on the other? Nalan Senar wore far too much jewellery on and around her heavy clothing to be the ‘poor peasant’ she purported to be. In addition, her house, as well as being home to a very large dog, was also the site of a huge amount of very sophisticated electronic equipment. Not that any of it was actually working when İkmen and Erten went to visit the woman that grey Saturday morning. ‘Kemalettin knows how to do this stuff,’ she said as she held a handful of remote controls up for the policemen to see. ‘He is the watcher of television.’ ‘Where is Kemalettin, Mrs Senar?’ Erten asked as he first took off his shoes and then sat down in the seat the woman directed him to. ‘I don’t know,’ she replied with some resentment in her voice. ‘Why? Did you want to see him?’ ‘No,’ the Nevşehir man said with a smile. ‘It is you we’ve come to see. I expect you’ve heard about Inspector İkmen from İstanbul and what he has arranged for Aysu Alkaya’s remains.’ ‘Yes.’ She eyed İkmen narrowly before offering him a seat alongside that of his rural colleague.
