Arabesk

by Barbara Nadel

  Ìkmen pulled a chair up towards Suleyman's desk and sat down. 'Just look at the facts, OK? Fact one,' he banged his fist down on the desk to emphasise his point, 'Urfa specifically appeals to Merih's abductors not to give her chicken or beans.'

  'She has an allergy.'

  'Yes, she may, I accept that But no doctor can, at her age, really make a judgement on that The child would be fed almost exclusively on milk at her age. How would Urfa, or anyone else for that matter, know?'

  'Yes, but—'

  'Then,' Ìkmen banged the desk once again, 'there is the disappearance of that man you tried to ID. He didn't want you to see his card.'

  'Or he just wanted to get out of the way so he wouldn't crack under interrogation. I mean if Urfa wasn't with him—'

  'And then there are the peacocks.'

  'Ah.' They had been over this subject before and Suleyman was still not convinced. 'What you're asking me to believe,' he said, 'is that the whole lot of them belong to this sect and, further, that one of my officers may also!'

  'Well, you must admit that Çöktin's sudden advocacy of Urfa's cause is a little odd. He's met Kurdish criminals before and he's never been like this. And besides, his knowing about eunuchs in other countries is a bit specialised, isn't it? Dr Halman has made a study of this sort of thing and—'

  'But even if you are right, what bearing could this possibly have on Ruya Urfa's death?'

  'I don't know!' Ìkmen paused briefly in order to swallow hard and gather his thoughts. 'All I know is that I distrust secrets and if these people have them then they need exposing!'

  A knock at the door brought their discussion to a halt

  'Come in,' Suleyman said with a heavy sigh.

  Orhan Tepe smiled aimably into the room.

  'Well?' Suleyman asked wearily.

  'There's a young lady to see you, sir. She says she's a servant at Tansu Hanim's house.'

  Ìkmen and Suleyman exchanged a look before the latter said, 'Well, bring her up then.'

  'Yes, sir.'

  As Tepe closed the door behind him, Ìkmen said, 'I wonder what she wants.'

  'I have no idea although I doubt very much that it's about strange sects.'

  Ignoring this jibe, Ìkmen said, 'So where is Çöktin at the moment?'

  'At the Forensic Institute, looking at the uses and origins of cyanide.'

  'So you're keeping him away from Urfa.'

  'That was my intention, yes.'

  : A moment of silence passed during which Suleyman wrestled with his tongue to make it instruct Ìkmen to leave. He knew he had the right and the old man's interference was beginning to get on his nerves. But for some reason he just couldn't do it and so when a small, almost child-like figure was escorted into his office, he introduced Ìkmen as if he were a currently serving officer involved in the Urfa case.

  In a voice so small and soft as to be barely audible, the girl announced herself as Belkis Kasaba. She had been, she said, until the previous day, a maid at Tansu Hanim's house in Yeniköy. As she spoke she knitted her fingers nervously, a habit which only abated when she looked up briefly at Ìkmen who smiled back warmly at her.

  'So what have you come to tell me then, Bellas?' Suleyman asked, attempting without success to look her in the eye.

  Belkis licked her dry lips before answering. 'I do want you to know that I have always loved Tansu Hamm, sir. I have loved her music and her all of my life.' Then looking across at Ìkmen who, presumably, she saw as more of a father figure, she said, 'And even though she has wronged me, I still want to be like her one day. I can sing and dance and everything and Insallah, I will be an Arabesk myself one day.'

  'I'm sure you shall,' Ìkmen said kindly, 'but for the moment, Belkis, you say that Tansu has wronged you. How did she do this?'

  'Madame dismissed me just before Inspector Suleyman arrived yesterday.' She threw a short, shy glance at the younger man. 'She thought that Inspector Suleyman might be Mr Erol come back to her and when that wasn't so, she told me to go.'

  'That seems particularly unfair,' Suleyman commented, 'Does no one else in her party object to this?'

  'Miss Latife, Madame's sister, did, so I had hopes that she might change her mind. Miss Latife does so much for Madame that sometimes even in her rages she can make her do things.'

  'But not on this occasion?'

  Belkis started to snivel. 'No,' she said, 'Madame was too furious for that. Although Miss Latife did give me money to get home to Sivas with.' Then bursting into full-blown tears, she said, 'Not even Mr Yilmaz, Madame's brother, said goodbye and . . .'

  Suleyman took his handkerchief out of his top pocket and handed it across to Belkis.

  'Thank you, sir. Thank you.'

  After a brief pause during which the girl attempted to get hold of her emotions, Suleyman said, 'Well, that's very bad indeed, Bellas, but I don't think that you came here, instead of presumably going back to your parents, just to tell me this sad story, did you?'

  She looked at Ìkmen, who smiled yet again, before answering. 'No, sir.'

  'And so

  .'Well..-. . Look, Pm not saying all this because I am angry at Madame, you understand. I mean she is still the best star in all the world . . .'

  'But?'

  'But . . .But I know that Madame lied when she said that she was in the house on the night of Mrs Urfa's murder.'

  Ìkmen gave Suleyman a look which spoke volumes about the value of the serving classes. Suleyman ignored this and went on with his questioning.

  'So how do you know this, Belkis?'

  The girl breathed in hard before launching into her tale. 'Miss Latife went to bed at about seven,' she said. 'She'd been out all day tending the plants with the gardening man. She likes the plants. She says it comes of being the daughter of a country girl.' She smiled. 'But anyway, that left Madame alone downstairs, sitting out on the veranda. Mr Galip was at that football match and Mr Yilmaz, well, he was upstairs too by then . . .'

  'So what happened then?'

  'Well, after making sure that everything was ready for the morning, I went out to Madame and asked her if she wanted anything else. She said that she didn't and that I could go to my room now if I wanted. She was quite pleasant to me.' Belkis suddenly seemed very nervous again, presumably because she was getting to the nub of the matter now. ‘I, er ...'

  'Go on, Beikis,' Ìkmen said encouragingly, 'you're doing very well.'

  'Yes, but I should have told you this before, should—'

  'That's not important now,' Suleyman said earnestly.'So you did what?' 'I went upstairs.' 'To your room.'

  'No,' she said, lifting her tear-stained face just a little, 'to Mr Yilmaz's room. We, um ...' The tears, silent this time, started flowing once again and Beikis buried her eyes in Suleyman's handkerchief. 'Oh, sirs, what must you think of me!'

  Even though he knew he strictly shouldn't, Ìkmen placed a fatherly hand on the girl's shoulder. She couldn't be much more than seventeen, if that, and sadly he could easily imagine what Mr Yilmaz might have said to get this little one into his bed.

  'Did Mr Yilmaz say he would help you with your career if you slept with him?' Ìkmen asked.

  ‘I only had to take my shirt off at first,' the girl said sadly, 'but then he said that wasn't enough and he'd only really be able to help me if I, I, oh . . .'

  'He took advantage of you, Beikis,' Suleyman said with a sigh, 'which was very wrong.'

  'Yes.' Feeling, quite correctly, that the inspector wanted her to get to the point of the story, Beikis pulled herself together once again and carried on.

  But you don't want to know that,' she said. 'What you need to know is about Madame.'

  Suleyman nodded encouragingly.

  'When I went to Mr Yilmaz's room, he had just got out of the shower and was sitting on the end of his bed drying riimself with a towel.' She gulped nervously at the memory of this. 'So I sat down next to him, and we, well, I don't want to say, but a little later I heard a car start. It wasn't Mr
Galip coming back, it was definitely someone going somewhere. And Mr Yilmaz, who was recently given a new Ferrari by Madame, which he loves, ran over to the window to make sure that no one who shouldn't was driving his car. Madame and Miss Latife have both driven it and he doesn't like it.'

  'So what was there when Mr Yilmaz looked out of the window?' Ìkmen asked. 'And did you go over there with him?'

  'Yes, I did go and I did see.'

  'What did you see, Belkis?' Suleyman asked, his heart now beating faster with excitement.

  'I saw Madame dressed in one of her big white furs driving off in the silver Mercedes.'

  'And did you see her return again?'

  'No, I went up to my room soon after that. Then I went to sleep.'

  'What about in the morning?' Ìkmen asked. 'Did you see her then?'

  'Yes, I did, and she was crying. I heard her say to Miss Latife that she thought something bad might have happened to Mr Erol. Miss Latife had to give her tranquillisers to calm her down.' Then as if suddenly aware of what she had said, Belkis clapped her hand across her mouth. 'I won't have to speak about Mr Yilmaz in the court, will I?'

  Chapter 12

  The pigeon is dead

  And so is my heart

  His feathers are black as the night

  I killed you my soul

  For the love you won't share

  My hatred puts daytime to flight

  '. . . and on and on and on,' Tansu said as she rocked miserably about on the sofa in front of the television screen. Then, laughing, but without mirth, she threw what was left of her champagne down her throat and poured another draft half into her glass and half across the surface of the table. She wasn't bothered. As soon as she had a decent amount in her glass she drank it and then flopped back to look at the TV screen again.

  She didn't hear her sister walk across the room towards her.

  'Watching one of your old movies, Tansu?'

  The star turned to face what looked like a smarter, more sober version of herself. 'Yes,' she slurred. ‘I like to look at myself when I was a beautiful girl.'

  Latife took a few moments to view the film before saying, 'You were thirty-five in this one.'

  Leaning forward with an almost demonic leer on her face, Tansu said, 'You wouldn't say that to me if I was sober!'

  'No I wouldn't. But seeing as you won't remember any of this in a few hours' time, I can say what I like.' She sat down beside her sister on the sofa, making sure that she was just far enough away to be out of danger.

  'I've given you and our brothers everything,' Tansu murmured as she watched her younger self run fearfully from a big man with a sword. 'Not that I resent that I would do it all again.'

  'Thank you.' It was said automatically, expressing acceptance rather than gratitude.

  'Yilmaz is angry that I got rid of his little girl, but I said you can fuck anything you like, you're my brother.'

  'What if he wanted his freedom?'

  Tansu frowned. 'What do you mean?'

  Latife sighed. It was a lot like trying to explain things to a child when Tansu was like this. 'What if Yilmaz wanted to leave this house? Would you give him that?'

  'But Yilmaz doesn't want to go. He hasn't got anywhere to go.'

  'Yes, but what if he did have somewhere? Would you let him leave?' She looked hard into her sister's face Just at the moment when Tansu's soft eyes turned hard. 'Well?'

  The voice when it came was more like something animal than human. Td throw his ungrateful carcass out without a kurus.

  'Nobody uses kurus any more, Tansu, they're worth nothing.'

  'Well, how should I know that?' She leaned forward, wobbling slightly at the waist. 'I have people to do the money thing, don't I?'

  'You have people to do everything except have sex, drink and take drugs.'

  Tansu laughed, but not out of good humour, a fact made evident by her words. 'I'll kill you for that tomorrow,' she said, 'my dear, bright little sister.'

  With an accepting shrug, Latife pushed herself up against the back of the sofa and was about to close her eyes when Galip and Yilmaz entered the room. As they walked somewhat shakily across the floor, Latife thought at first that the two men were as drunk as her sister. It was not until she felt a familiar sickening flip in her stomach that she realised that they were quite sober. Another small earth tremor to add to all the others that had been occurring of late. Not, as born and bred Istanbuhs were wont to say, that it meant anything. The earth moved, it sometimes did a bit of damage, it shuffled back again and everything was the same once again. Insallah it would always be so.

  As the tremor subsided, so Galip and Yilmaz regained their equilibrium.

  'If this carries on, I’m going to get out and go down south’ Galip said as he picked up Tansu's almost empty bottle of champagne.

  'A-a-and m-me,' Yilmaz echoed, 'I w-will Moo’

  Tansu observed her brothers with a lizard-like eye. 'You'll go south soon anyway’ she said contemptuously, 'so you can spend my money on beer and foreign women.'

  Galip just laughed, but Yilmaz was genuinely stung by her words. 'I-I'm going to m-my room.'

  'To think about poor little Bellas?' Tansu taunted.

  'Y-you t-take away everything w-we w-want!' he said, suddenly furiously angry. 'Y-you just give us w-what y-you tthink w-we should w-want!'

  'Oh, is that s-so, Y-yilmaz?' Tansu hissed in obvious and hurtful imitation of her brother's impediment.

  'Y-you, a-are—'

  'Come along’ Latife said and stood up. She took hold of her brother's arm. 'We've all had a very upsetting time lately, perhaps it might be better if—'

  'Buts-she—'

  'Yilmaz! Come along!' And with that Latife pulled her brother bodily from the room.

  'I was born a slave, but I will die free!' a much younger version of Tansu wailed from the television set.

  The older Tansu threw what was left of her champagne at the image, laughing bitterly as the flowing liquid distorted the rosy-hued skin on the screen.

  It isn't easy to concentrate on anything when one's mind is tortured by anxiety. Even the most simple task may be rendered virtually impossible. When, however, that which has to be attended to is both unfamiliar and complex, the task becomes doubly difficult. This was a lesson that Ìsak Çöktin was learning as he attempted to make some sort of sense out of what Miss Göle, the laboratory technician, was attempting to tell him.

  'The principal industrial use of cyanide is in the manufacture of steel. It's used to pickle it. A by-product of this process is a substance called hydrocyanic acid,' then as if suddenly noticing the glazed look on Çöktin's face for the first time, she said, 'Do you follow, detective?' '

  'Yes,' Çöktin smiled in that particular way people do when they haven't a clue what is actually happening.

  Holding up a fragile glass bottle filled with an amber-coloured liquid, Miss Göle then announced, 'And this is what it looks like.'

  'Oh.' Çöktin reached out to take it from her, but Miss Göle stopped him with her free hand.

  'No, I don't think so, detective,' she said sternly. 'Your mind is far too distant for you to be trusted with something so delicate and at the same time so deadly.'

  How right she was. And yet, try as he might, Çöktin just could not drag his mind away from the subject of Erol Urfa - or the invidious position his relationship with that man might have placed him in. Inspector Suleyman was not happy about what he perceived as partisan behaviour. He was quite correct in his assumption that that was what was happening and he was probably also quite correct in still having his suspicions about Erol. Not, of course, that Çöktin could agree with that. The whole point about followers of the Peacock Angel was that they were not wicked or profane or violent If only he could explain that to Suleyman - but then that was as impossible as it was ridiculous. It would also be professional suicide - if, of course, he had not already committed that act.

  'Cyanide may be created by distilling the stones of
either the plum or the cherry. Anyone who has access to distillation equipment may produce it. We here at the institute, for instance’ Miss Göle said with a smile, 'could manufacture cyanide with ease’

  'I see’ Had he been listening with full attention, Çöktin would have been chilled by her words, but instead his responses were as half-hearted as his questions. 'So can cyanide be used domestically?

  'You mean in the home?'

  Çöktin shrugged. 'Yes.' Suleyman had used the words 'domestic uses', which he assumed meant within people's houses and apartments. Oh, if only he could just give up on Erol and let the legal process take its course like it had for every other suspect he'd ever come into contact with!

  'Well, not really,' Miss Göle said as she shifted her spectacles up onto the bridge of her nose, 'although I have come across several instances where it has been used to kill pests. Rats, mice, wasps - you know.'

  He wrote it all down, his pen making notes almost without thought from him.

  'Usually, though,' Miss Göle continued, 'when it is used domestically, those employing it generally have some sort of connection with industry. They bring a little home from their place of work.' She smiled. 'A sort of perk, I suppose you'd say.'

  'Right'

  She looked down at her watch and then pursed her lips. 'Well, if that is all.

  'You've been most helpful,' Çöktin, said taking her hand in his and shaking it firmly. 'Thank you.'

  'It's nothing,' and with that she made her way back to the door of the laboratory and then held it open for Çöktin to pass through. 'Goodbye, detective.'

  'Goodbye, madam.'

  Once back out in the reception area, Cdktin looked briefly over his notes. Sketchy and half-hearted, they were no more or less than he had expected. But then with his mind so alarmingly distracted, what more could he have hoped for? There was no logical reason why he should have become so involved with Erol. After all, the singer didn't actually need to have him as an ally. It was just that as soon as Çöktin knew what he did about Erol, he felt duty bound to help. After all, did he not understand the pressures himself?

  In order to assure himself that really he did not, Çöktin took out his identity card and looked at the word that was written beside religion. The bitterness which gave the lie to that word rose up within him immediately. So no assurance here, then?