“There’s nothing to think about. I did some digging for you.”
“Who is he?”
“He was born in Gemlik in 1967. Expelled from military college. Right now he’s employed by a private sector company. He received a direct loan from Emlakbank to buy his flat.”
“Were you able to learn which company he works for?”
“We can check that out from other sources.”
“If it’s not too much trouble, would you mind?”
“We’ll try,” he promised.
“And the other things?” I prompted.
“One at a time,” he said.
“All right. But I’ve got one last question. A DNA test wasn’t conducted on the sperm found in the anuses of brahim Karaman and Yusuf Seçkin. Could one be done?”
“So much time has passed. I’m really not sure.”
“Well,” I said, “I was thinking that a sperm analysis could identify their sexual partners.”
“You might be right,” he said. “Hold on a minute. Just let me ask.”
I was put on hold. Ponpon poked her head through the door.
“Good for you, ayol,” she said. “I was listening outside.”
“You’ve got no shame!” I scolded her.
“Aman. I thought the call might be for me, but you beat me to it. Then I heard what you were talking about. Well, I couldn’t hang up, could I? So I listened for a bit. What’s the big deal?”
There’s just no point in trying to explain some things to Ponpon. The way she’d pillaged and plundered my house demonstrated her sense of boundaries. According to her, anything goes when it comes to friends.
Selçuk was back on the line.
“You’ll never guess what I found out,” he said. “It’s possible to analyse sperm found in the vagina or anus of a corpse – even if it’s been in water for three days. Seawater or freshwater, makes no difference. If the sperm’s in the body’s mouth, though, forget it. But in the anus or vagina, no problem.”
“So why didn’t they do a test?”
“That’s what I was wondering.”
We were both silent.
Ponpon was standing right next to me. Unable to hear what was being said, she looked at me curiously.
“What happened?” she whispered.
I covered the receiver with my hand. “I’ll tell you later.”
Shaking her head, she assumed a knowing look and bit her lower lip.
“Selçuk,” I said, “Is there any way we could get those tests done?”
“What do you mean ‘we’, pal?”
“Excuse me,” I said. “What I meant was, could you have it done?”
“I’ll try,” he said. “I’ll see what I can do. The boys get down to work if you push them a bit. They must have been too busy to bother. As far as I know, the tests are pretty complicated.
And pricey. It’ll take some time, too.”
“I’ll pay whatever is necessary,” I said.
“Don’t be silly. Look, I’ve got to run. I hope you don’t mind my hanging up on you like this.”
“What do you mean? Not at all.”
“Don’t forget,” he ended. “Ayla and I are expecting you. Don’t leave it too long.”
“Sure,” I told him.
Ponpon pounced the second I hung up the phone. She peppered me with questions.
I told her what I’d learned. She responded to everything I said with a fascinated “Oh, you don’t say.” But when I finished, she pushed me over the edge by declaring, “So what’s the big deal?”
She had a point.
Other than speculation and suspicions, we had nothing to go on.
“Come on,” she said. “I made some dolma. Stuffed peppers and tomatoes. You’ll love them.”
“I ate out.”
“You’re crazy, ayol,” she nagged. “I mean, everyone knows what a great cook I am. Yet you go off to some restaurant. Shame on you!”
Trying to get anything done at home was proving to be extremely taxing. The best thing would be to go and shut myself up in my office. I’d have to deal with Ali, the messages I’d failed to answer, business developments, sector chatter and dozens of annoying requests for my assistance, but I’d still be better off far away from Ponpon and Sati.
Eighteen
I put on a thick jacket as a precaution against the cooling weather, and headed out to the street. I was exhausted. What with the racket of the washing machine, vacuum cleaner and Ponpon’s shrieked commands, I’d forgotten to call a taxi. I walked to the stand.
Hüseyin works nights, so wasn’t available. That was just as well. I was in no mood to cope with his flirting. I got into the first taxi waiting at the stand. I couldn’t decide between going to the office and paying a visit to Jihad2000 Kemal. I decided to give Kemal some more time to finish his research.
The office workers all respect me immensely. They just find me a bit odd. I’m fully aware that they describe me using terms like “interesting”, “eccentric” and “unconventional”. While they’re generally accustomed to seeing me dressed as a man, I have been known on occasion to arrive with a two-day beard, full eye makeup, rouge and lipstick just to shock annoying clients.
Ali was out. For the moment, that was just as well. There was no one there to drag me into conversation.
Clearing a workspace, I pushed aside the pile of mail left on my desk by the secretary.
Now, everything was ready – except me. I didn’t know where to start. All right, I was going to get to work. But on what? Where should I begin, and where would it lead?
I was convinced of Adem Yildiz’s guilt. That much was certain. But there wasn’t a shred of evidence to implicate him. He was a piece of filth, a real pervert. So what did that prove? And that was the problem in a nutshell.
I had plenty of time. I decided to check through the chat room records. Even though I had no idea what I was looking for, I would scan the entries made by “adam star”, “starman” and “*adam”.
“You have a call, sir. I’m putting you through.”
The secretary needed a good dressmg down. By simply announcing that a call was being put through, the assumption was that I was compelled to accept it.
“What’s up, abla?”
It couldn’t be, but it was. Yes, it was on Gönül on the line. I’d completely forgotten that I’d ever given her my number.
“Merhaba Gönül,” was my forced greeting.
“Ay! So you know who it is.”
“Why wouldn’t I? How could I ever forget you?”
“You really mean that, don’t you?”
“What is it, anyway? I’m busy. I’m working,” I said.
I just left the coroner’s. I thought I’d fill you in.”
I’d forgotten all about that, too.
“Any leads?” I asked.
“Oh, it hurt like hell. Had I known, I swear I’d never have agreed. That fiendish witch of a woman. Just like that, she shoved a whole length of icy iron right up my arse.”
I wouldn’t require details. I could easily imagine what her “voluntary” examination had been like. What’s more, it didn’t answer my question.
“What about Gül’s death?” I prompted her. “Any leads or developments?”
“You bet!” she exclaimed. And was silent.
“What?”
“Look abla, It’s too long to go into on the phone. And you’re busy. I don’t want to take your precious time. I’ll tell you everything next time we meet.”
And she hung up.
If she’d been within arm’s reach, I’d have strangled her.
To make matters worse, I had no idea how to find her. I guessed she was a regular at the rough beer houses of Aksaray. Or worse. But I didn’t know where she lived or spent her time. The only place I was certain to find her was at the coroner’s or at a funeral. Perhaps I wouldn’t see her again until another girl died.
My only hope was that she’d call me.
Unbalanced people
and unhinged situations tend to throw my equilibrium out of whack as well. With no idea what to do, I sat staring at the wall opposite.
Ali’s arrival ended that little reverie.
That secretary would have to be disciplined. She was supposed to check with me first, then connect my calls.
“I’ve got great news for you!” be announced. Remember that Italian company, Mare T. Docile? It’s as good as done. I think I’ve landed a deal. Time for the money to roll in . . . ”
He rubbed his hands together with glee. A grin stretched from ear to ear. As usual, when talking about money his eyes narrow to slits and his face seems to glow with a strange lust.
My thoughts were elsewhere. Talk of Italians and their lire would have no effect on me.
“Hey, what’s up?” he asked. “We’ve been chasing after this account for two months. Now we’ve got it. You’re not even reacting. What’s wrong with you?”
“Don’t mind me,” I said. “I was thinking about something else.”
“There’ll be none of that. You’ve got to concentrate. This is our biggest account ever. We’ve got to focus on it from now on.
We could even retire if we handle it right. Just think about the money we’ll make!”
“How much is it?” I asked.
The figure he cited was roughly the equivalent of winning the national lottery.
“They want to have a meeting with the two of us as soon as possible. We may even need to go to their headquarters in Geneva or offices in Nice to inspect their networks.”
He knows how much I hate business travel.
“It won’t take long. Just a few days. And we can spend a couple of them having fun. Shopping and stuff . . . ”
“I can handle everything right here,” I reminded him. “Advanced technology makes that possible.”
“I know that. It’s just not what they want. They tell me their main systems are closed to outside intervention. They’re unique and they have their own software program. The customer’s always right.”
“Ali,” I said sharply. “We’ve been working together all these years. How many times do I have to tell you that the system they use and the protective shield are completely independent of each other.”
“I know,” he allowed. “But . . . ”
“No ‘but’s’ about it. If I can’t get this through your head I don’t see how I’m supposed to explain it to them.”
“Now don’t go off in a tizzy.”
“I’m not. Tell me again. What kind of figure are we talking about here?”
He repeated the amount.
It really would be best for me to forget everything and start thinking about what I could do with that money. My cut would be more than enough. I could buy up all the shares in the club, or even open a new one. In fact, I could open a summer club in Bodrum and use the one in Istanbul during the winter.
I let my imagination run wild: I could do my work in Berlin or Paris. Or I could give up this racket and become the star attraction of clubs all across the globe. I could visit every transvestite club and bar on the planet. Who knows the things I’d see, that I’d experience!
“We’ve got to get to work immediately,” Ali said. “I’ve even brought you some files for homework.”
As Ali went out to get the Mare T. Docile files I looked at the piece of paper on my desk. I’d made a list of all the dead girls. Their nicknames and male names were all in a row. In the adjacent column I’d jotted down the specifics of their deaths and noteworthy details, if any.
I began the moment Ali walked back in carrying two CD-Roms.
“You know that friend of yours, Cengiz . . . ”
“You liked him, didn’t you?” he interrupted. “I knew he’d be just your type.”
“He said he had a summer house right next to Adem Yildiz’s place . . . ”
“That’s right,” said Ali. “A summer house in Bodrum, on Mazi harbour. But his ex-wife and kids are there right now.”
“Shut up a minute,” I said. “Stop interrupting me. There’s something else I want to ask.”
“All right . . . all right!”
“How well do you think he knows Adem Yildiz?’’
“Did you like him too?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” I said. “I’ve got my suspicions. I need some information. Make it hush-hush though.”
“Talk to Cengiz,” he said. “There’s no way for me to know. . . ”
The subject was closed and he placed the CD-Roms in front of me.
“You’ll find all the system specifications and the various problems they’ve faced to date. I’d like you to have a look. I told them we’d be finished reviewing everything by the beginning of next week. We will be finished, won’t we?”
I, too, had fallen under the spell of the expected payment from Mare T.Docile.
Nineteen
By the time I left the office it was after 8pm. Mare T.Docile’s computer systems were certainly complex. In order to avoid paying tax on their shipping business the company’s activities were listed as being based in Split, Croatia and some islands in the Pacific Ocean. Mare T. Docile may have officially been an Italian company, but all of their container ships were in fact leased at a near loss to these fly-by-night firms.
When I got home I was greeted by a reproachful Ponpon.
“Ayol, where you have you been? I’ve run myself ragged heating and reheating dinner. I was just about to sit down and eat alone.”
My home, my sweet home, was a place of gleaming parquet floors. The furniture had all been rearranged according to Ponpon’s tastes. There wasn’t a trace of my calculated efforts to create a post-modern effect. I now resided in what could easily have passed for a granny flat.
As I looked over her handiwork, Ponpon smiled at me proudly.
“It’s so much better now, don’t you think?” she asked.
“Thanks for taking so much trouble,” I replied. What else could I say?
“Sati and I worked our fingers to the bone, of course, but it was worth it. I had to follow her from corner to corner. They just don’t get down to work unless you stand over them.”
“Too true,” I agreed.
“This Sati Hanim of yours is a bit lazy. She supposedly comes three times a week, but dust has been collecting under the carpets for months at least. I’ll send you my Zerrin. Give her a try. She’s a real whirlwind!”
I smiled weakly. In fact, I was close to tears.
“And now for our dinner. I made fresh okra with chicken. With lots of lemon.”
The chicken okra was delicious. If Ponpon stayed long-term I was sure to put on as much weight as she had.
“Did anyone call while I was out?” I asked.
“Ah, of course! I almost forgot,” she said. “That police friend of yours called. He’s got news. Ferruh or Fabri, or something like that.”
“What exactly was it?” I asked.
She must have been talking about Fatih enyürek.
“He didn’t say. He’s going to call you back.”
“Anyone else?” I prompted.
“Ay, and you’ve got a phone pervert! I pick up, but there’s no sound. I hear him breathing, but he doesn’t say a word. Calls every half hour. He’ll be calling in a minute. What a weirdo, don’t you think?”
“And Hasan?” I asked.
“He didn’t call. I called him to find out what was going on. But he didn’t have anything new.”
I waited for Ponpon to leave so I could call Jihad2000, who I suspected was the heavy breather, and Selçuk. She seemed determined to stay put.
“When are you going out?” I asked her hopefully.
“Oh, I’m not,” she replied. “I’m off tonight. I don’t have any extra business either. I thought we’d enjoy some girl talk in front of the TV. A long merciless gossip about everyone we know. . . ”
I love chatting with Ponpon, but this wasn’t the night for it. I had other things to do. Before I concentrated on getting rich with the
Mare T. Docile account, I wanted to solve the prophet murders, or at least resolve some of the puzzling questions spinning through my head.
“I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve got to get some work done,” I told her.
Her face fell.
“And what am I supposed to do while you’re working?
“Watch TV, or put on one of my new DVDs. I could rustle up a visitor for you if you like.”
“Don’t be silly, ayol,” she said. “I gave that up long ago.”
Everyone knew Ponpon was an asexual transvestite. In fact, some suggested she’d become a cross-dresser just to spite her family.
“What I’d really like is to sit at your side,” she persisted. “I’ll make tea or coffee. I could even pop some corn. We’ll chat while you work. I promise not to bother you.”
This is just great, I thought. It seemed like a joke, but Ponpon never indulges in them.
Laughing lightly, I said, “I’m afraid it wouldn’t work out.”
“What do you mean, it wouldn’t. Of course it would,” she insisted. “Go and get started and I’ll bring some tea.”
Hoping the preparation of the tea would keep her busy for some time, I called Selçuk. His wife Ayla answered. She said they were expecting me for dinner Saturday evening. I accepted. Then she handed the phone to Selçuk.
“You remember your man, Fehmi, Senyürek,” he began. “He works for a shipping company by the name of Astro.”
“I’ve never heard of it,” I said.
“Me neither. But I did some research. It’s a subsidiary company of Yildiz.” Lightning struck. I heard bells.
“Not the Yildiz chain of markets?” I said, seeking confirmation.
“That’s the one. He’s even got a small airline. The company’s growing quietly but surely.”
“I really appreciate this,” I thanked him.
“I don’t understand what you’re after, but I’m glad to turn up something for you. Oh, and the DNA tests are being done. I’ll let you know the minute the results come in.”
The Prophet Murders Page 11