Divorce Turkish Style Read Online Free

Fofo’s offer.
    â€œWe could go to my office, if you like,” he said, glancing at his watch. “It’s not far from here, in Süslü Saksı Street. We can talk more comfortably there. Also, there’s no one in it at the moment, and I don’t really like leaving it empty.”
    I suddenly thought of my abandoned shop. Hopefully Pelin would have kept her promise to be there.
    â€œWon’t you have anything to drink?” I asked, seeing the waiter coming towards our table.
    â€œOkay, I’ll have a lemonade,” he said, without any hesitation.
    The office was light and spacious. As soon as we entered, the journalist, whose name I finally learned was Murat, disappeared to make coffee. Fofo and I settled into armchairs and started looking through some gossip magazines lying on the table.
    I picked up a particularly dog-eared magazine in which, among some pictures taken at a fairy-tale wedding at Esma Sultan Palace, I noticed a photo of Tamaşa and Bahri Ankaralıgil. The caption beneath the photo read “Tamaşa Hanım, one of society’s best-dressed women, dazzled us in a purple evening gown by Valentino”.
    I showed the picture to Fofo, who studied it carefully.
    â€œDefinitely not my type,” he said eventually. “Too much Botox.I can’t stand it when Botox is used to raise the eyebrows, especially if they have lines between them.”
    â€œHow do you know about Botox treatments?” I asked in amazement.
    â€œThrough Mustafa, my doctor friend.”
    I nodded. I’d met Mustafa once when I went to his house to collect Fofo.
    â€œHe does Botox. All the skin specialists do nowadays. He explained it all to me.”
    â€œDoes it work?” I asked, thinking I might pay him a visit one day.
    â€œMustafa goes for a very natural look. He doesn’t create masks like that.”
    â€œTell me, why do people have their eyebrows raised?”
    â€œBecause if you raise the eyebrows, it tightens the area around the eye,” replied Fofo, using one hand to demonstrate. “That’s why you see so many people going around with such arched eyebrows.”
    When Murat returned, we were both engrossed in magazines.
    â€œPlease, ask whatever it is you want to know,” he said, pulling up a wheeled office chair.
    This time, I didn’t even allow Fofo time to open his mouth.
    â€œActually, we don’t know much about what happened. We only know what we read in the press.”
    â€œIs that so?” said Murat.
    I began biting my nails.
    Fofo glared a silent order at me to remove my hand from my mouth. Bless him – he’s like a mother to me. However, I paid no attention and continued gnawing at my nails. Why should I pay attention to that halfwit Fofo?
    â€œYou said Sani Ankaralıgil’s family hired you as detectives,” said Murat.
    â€œWell, that’s not entirely correct. Nobody hired us. But we knew Sani Ankaralıgil. Or rather we used to see her almost every day.”
    â€œI don’t understand what you’re saying.”
    â€œThere’s a small restaurant at Tünel, where we have lunch. Everything there is home-cooked. The food’s simple and there’s little choice, but it’s tasty,” I said, simultaneously realizing that I was famished. “Our lunch break often coincided with Sani Hanım’s, though she only ever ate salad. We often ran into each other, but we had no idea who she was. It was only when we saw her picture in the paper that we realized—”
    â€œIs that all?” said Murat, shuffling in his chair.
    â€œThat’s it,” I said.
    â€œExcuse my curiosity, but why are you interested in this? I mean, if the family didn’t contact you—”
    Fofo frowned and moved his lips as if silently saying, “Well done!”
    â€œFor the same reason as you,” I said. “Out of curiosity.”
    Murat laughed