The Prophet Murders

by Mehmet Murat Somer

  Fehmi and Adem had turned away from us. They were making love to each other. The moans were coming from Adem. His make-up, which had been poorly applied to begin with, was completely wrecked. He kept biting his lower lip, groaning each time he breathed out. He grimaced in ecstasy, eyes nearly shut.

  Behind Adem, who was crouching on his hands and knees, was Fehmi – literally screwing the boss. I couldn’t see his face, but could tell from his voice that he spoke through clenched teeth. He hissed a string of curses and oaths. Personally, I’ve never understood the attraction of so-called “talking dirty”.

  I closed my eyes. Adem’s surprises were never-ending. Dolly Vuslat had told me he enjoyed getting screwed. While it was common knowledge that some men requested such services from transvestites, it was rare for a real man to have it performed by another man. What’s more, Adem had a thing for lady’s garments. And now he was bottoming for Fehmi. I tried to guess how long ago they had reached this stage. It was beyond me.

  The pain in my head was subsiding; the fog shrouding my thoughts was lifting. I began thinking rationally. However, I still had no control over my body. The drug they’d slipped me was losing its effectiveness, but I was still under its influence.

  Either time was passing slowly or Fehmi was the sort who takes hours to come. Adem was still moaning beside me.

  They’d forgotten all about me and Isa Gürhan. Their attention was focused only on each other. Isa Gürhan lay not far off, completely naked. He was motionless.

  No matter how long it took Fehmi and Adem to finish their business, finish it they would. I didn’t even want to think about what would happen then.

  My eyes returned to the dozens of lights overhead. Why were there so many lamps hanging from the ceiling?

  I visualised scenes from the death of Jesus, the movie versions. On his back he carried a cross taller than himself, as he trudged up a dusty hill. A crown of thorns rested on his head. Then they nailed him to the cross. Jesus made not a sound as the blood gushed from his hands and feet.

  The Jesus seared into my consciousness had a beard and hollow cheeks. His hair was light brown, almost blond. Most of the images in my mind came from the film Jesus Christ Superstar, every song of which I knew by heart. It was dubbed “rock opera” and was one of the first works by Andrew Lloyd Webber, who went on to earn fame and a title, Sir, with Evita Cats and Phantom of the Opera.

  Then Jesus was whipped. Exactly thirty-nine times. I think it was the number of years he’d been alive. Again, he made not a peep, while others wept in silence.

  The imagery was getting mixed up in my head, with Willem Dafoe intruding from another film.

  The crack of lashes continued.

  I have a powerful imagination. The whipping sounds were totally life-like.

  Yes, totally life-like! I opened my eyes to see sa Gürhan being whipped. His make-up running down in muddy rivulets, Adem was cracking the leather belt he gripped in one hand. They’d gagged Gürhan with a pair of pink lace panties to stop him from screaming. His eyes were wide with terror.

  They’d tied him to two large, antique-looking metal rings fixed to the wall. I couldn’t guess what other purpose the rings served. Gürhan was covered with angry red welts where the lash had bit into his flesh. He was trembling.

  Gürhan wasn’t the only one shaking. As he brandished the whip, Adem wept and quivered. As he cried, still more black mascara ran down his face. He was a terrifying sight.

  I was tied up. Hands and feet tightly bound, I lay on my back on the floor. A piece of thick adhesive tape covered my mouth.

  Fehmi was stretched out in an armchair just to my right, smoking a cigarette.

  “Sodomy! The greatest abomination of all!” he kept repeating. “You’ve sinned!”

  He spoke in an hypnotic drone, emotionless, each syllable given the same emphasis.

  “What made you do it? How did it happen? The prophets are without sin, aren’t they?”

  I tried to move. But couldn’t. I remembered, from my high school gymnastics class, a move that involved leaping into a flying kick from a prone position. I never managed it then. Now, just when I needed it most, I was even less able to manage it.

  "sa died for the sins of mankind. For the sins of sinners. For “I the sins you too have committed. He died to pay for these very sins.”

  Fehmi’s voice was getting on my nerves. He had adopted the voice of those preachers on television who lecture on faith and the true path. He used the same soulless, flat cadences. The ones widely believed to be a suggestion of the sublime, the lofty mind.

  “He will pay for your sins, too. He will pay for all our sins.”

  Adem raised his arm slowly, as though having difficulty raising the leather strap. Gürhan shook with each cracking noise. In sharp contrast to the prophet Jesus, whose determination to pay for the sins of mankind gave him a certain unshakeable serenity, Gürhan was sobbing like there was no tomorrow. In any case, he had no beard.

  “Pronounce the formula.”

  Like an obedient child, Adem murmured “There is no god but God, Muhammad is the apostle of God.” He was choking on his tears, but, as far as I could remember, managed a complete recital of the religious formula.

  For a moment, I wondered if I hadn’t better recite it myself. I was beginning to think more clearly. But little good it would do me, with my hands and feet bound and my mouth taped. Even if I had been able to move my body it would have made no difference.

  The things I was made to watch and the side effects of the drugs they’d given me was making me nauseous. The adhesive tape over my mouth held everything back.

  I darted glances around the room, but each time Gürhan cried out my eyes returned to him.

  I thought I saw something on the other side of the door to the terrace. It could be the result of the imbat, meltem, poyraz – or whatever it is they call the winds in these parts. No, the curtains were definitely not being rustled by some wind whose name I didn’t know. Someone was out there.

  Someone large. Perhaps the untimely return of the caretaker? If so, he would be sent reeling by what he saw here. If he had any sense at all he wouldn’t come in, but would call for help immediately. But if he did come barging in . . . If he was a true innocent, had no idea what his boss got up to, he would either leave here a rich man or share the fate, whatever it was, of me and Gürhan.

  One thing was for certain. I couldn’t bear for a minute longer the sounds of moaning, the sight of a leather strap lashing bare skin, the feel of strange hands pinching and fondling my body. All I asked was that it end. Is there any thing worse than knowing something is going to happen, but not knowing when? I shut my eyes tight. I wanted to lose consciousness, to faint, even to die. Perhaps I wouldn’t survive the pain . . .

  The huge shadow was motionless, not coming or going. Whoever it was, he seemed to have frozen in his tracks. Yes, the scene in the living room was enough to freeze anyone’s blood, but I silently pleaded for him either to come in and face the consequences, or to run off for help.

  It was one of those times when a split-second seems like an eternity. All was happening in the slowest of slow motion.

  There was no end. The frame remained frozen.

  Thirty-two

  “ Ayol, I was in a total panic. Not a peep! No news of any kind. Who wouldn’t be sick with worry. You have to agree it was perfectly normal of me to wonder what was going on. And the risks you’re always taking! As for this one over here, he thinks about nothing but getting some body-work and instantly becoming a top model.

  “There was no way to reach you. I waited, expecting you to at least give me a call. Nothing. I cancelled everything. I sat here by the phone. Can you imagine what I was going through?

  “All I did was think about the two of you! I couldn’t even work. I tried to bake a cake. It came out like a piece of plywood. It didn’t rise or anything. And I was so careful to measure out all the ingredients.

  “That was the last straw. Fi
rst I called that man of yours to ask if there was any way to reach you. He told me there was no phone. All my worst fears were confirmed. Well, I went from bad to worse. I was desperate. He noticed, of course. He asked what was wrong. As far he knew, you’d gone to get away from it all, to unwind. I thought it best to let something slip. Just a hint. Then he could be counted on to get the whole story out of me. Once I spilled a few beans he became as anxious as me. He kept egging me on to tell him more. The more I told him, the more worried he got. The more worried he got the more details he demanded. So there we were, on the phone, in a feeding frenzy.

  “We finally came to our senses and decided to call Selçuk Bey. Of course, I can’t remember whose idea it was. One of us thought of it. And would you believe it! It turns out Cengiz knows him. I suppose that’s no surprise, really. Things just fell into place.

  “He was so understanding. Took such an interest. He’s a real gentleman, that Selçuk Bey. He said the two of you were out of your minds. We saw eye to eye on that one. In fact, Cengiz was of the same mind. What is it with this determination of yours to be some kind of hero? And as if that wasn’t bad enough, dragging this boy-child along . . .

  “Selçuk Bey was going to phone you in any case. He had some fresh information. He suggested joining me. I had of course already reserved two round-trip tickets to Bodrum. I wasn’t having any of that high-season, bye-season nonsense. Well it’s a good thing too. The plane was packed. Not a spare seat. And Selçuk? No, I don’t believe he had a ticket. But one was arranged. He is a bigwig police chief, after all. If he can’t organise a flight, who can? So off we went, the three of us.

  “Just before take-off Selçuk Bey received some more information about the case. He acted as though it was nothing important, but he went white as a sheet. Naturally, I noticed. At a glance. But I had enough on my plate as it was. I pretended everything was fine. I made it seem like I was only panicking about catching our flight.

  “He was on to me. I mean, he’s been around the block a few times. You should have seen the way he talked to me, so slow and steady. As though to calm me down. I was having none of it. Can you imagine me falling for that? I kicked up such a fuss! Well, he told me everything. He’d received news that Fehmi, too, had gone to Bodrum. I went mad the minute I heard that. I swear, my blood pressure went through the roof. Even now, just thinking about it . . . I told him he had to let you know somehow. It’s not as if there aren’t any police stations in Bodrum, a sensible officer or two.

  “And then – would you believe it – the flight was delayed. That’s when I lost it. There was no shutting me up. I gave each and every one of those air hostess women a piece of my mind, I can tell you. If Cengiz hadn’t covered my mouth I’d still be at it now. But then I remembered my blood pressure. The last thing I needed was to have some kind of seizure on that plane, as though we didn’t have enough problems. I’ve got my suspicions about this old blood pressure business in any case. Up and down it goes, without rhyme or reason.

  “By the time we landed everything had been arranged. Two police cars were there when we stepped off the plane. ‘Welcome chief’ and the whole shebang. We were in no condition to stand on ceremony. Just a quick salute and straight into the car. ‘Step on it,’ I told the driver. ‘It’s not like you’ll get a ticket for speeding.’ And that’s how I brought them all to you!”

  Ponpon’s screeches were the sweetest thing I’d ever heard. It was a real raid. Selçuk in front, gun drawn, Cengiz and Ponpon right behind him, with a bunch of policemen.

  We were rescued. Adem and Fehmi were arrested.

  Ponpon’s panic attacks had saved the day. Unable to reach us, she’d called every number she believed could be useful. She had told everyone everything she knew, making up whatever was needed to fill in the gaps. She was determined to worry them all. And she had succeeded.

  Cengiz went crazy when he found out my true reasons for going to Mazi harbour. When Selçuk learned of my suspicions concerning Adem Yildiz he decided to authorise a raid without waiting for the results of the DNA tests. Of course, Ponpon wasn’t to be left out. This time, she made sure she was one of the party flying to Bodrum.

  That was all I managed to piece together from Ponpon’s efforts to comfort me, to calm me down.

  It seems I was loved.

  I wasn’t happy about Selçuk and all those police seeing me naked, but of course I didn’t let that bother me too much. Ponpon immediately covered me with a tablecloth.

  Poor Gürhan was only semi-conscious. He’d wet himself. Knowing I was responsible for his sufferings, I tried to think of a way to clear my conscience. I couldn’t. I took his limp body into my arms and kissed him. Through my tears, I told him I was sorry. I’m not certain he heard me.

  The police let Adem Yildiz and Fehmi enyürek get dressed. Then they were hustled out in handcuffs. Neither bothered to explain what they had done been doing. They’d do that later.

  Ponpon, Cengiz, Selçuk, Gürhan and I were left alone in that house. We looked at each other uneasily. Gürhan sank into the chair where Fehmi had been sitting.

  “You’re out of your mind!” sputtered Cengiz. “A real nutcase. How did you dare to do something like this?”

  I just looked him straight in the eye. What was I supposed to say?

  “You could have at least told me,” Selçuk chimed in. “I’d never have expected you to do this on your own.”

  “What if we hadn’t got here in time!”

  “That’s enough, Cengiz Bey,” Ponpon scolded. “Lay off.

  He’s still in shock.”

  And I was.

  “All right everyone. I’ll make us all a nice cup of coffee. We’ll feel better then.”

  And that was Ponpon in a nutshell: able to switch in a split second from total panic to attentive housewife mode.

  “Please,” I said. “I can’t stay here. I’ve got to get out of this house. Now.”

  I was sitting right across from the iron rings. The belt lay on the floor just to the left. To my right, was a tangled heap of discarded clothing. My eyes landed on a pair of boxer shorts decked out with tiny butterflies. I felt nauseous.

  “Excuse me,” I mumbled as I staggered out towards the garden, Ponpon right behind me.

  The tablecloth slipped off my back. There, in a corner of the terrace, I dropped to my knees and was sick. Draping the tablecloth back over my shoulders, Ponpon softly said, “You crazy thing.” I had never heard her speak with such tenderness.

  She knelt down to hug me. She was so comfortingly large, such a perfect combination of fatherly masculinity and motherly warmth. I wiped my mouth on a corner of the tablecloth.

  Cengiz’s house, which we’d cleaned and tidied only the day before, was just what I needed. The rising sun played across the still waters of the harbour, swirls of amethyst and amber.

  Ponpon made us coffee. Gürhan fell asleep. I told them everything I knew and all I suspected.

  When I finished, Cengiz rose from his chair and came close.

  He held me. I appreciated his doing so even in front of Selçuk.

  I was proud of him. He kissed the top of my head. His body smelled wonderful. I leaned close.

  Thirty-three

  We returned to Istanbul. Adem Yildiz and Fehmi enyürek had been arrested. Naturally, it made all the headlines. Thanks to Selçuk, neither my name nor Gürhan’s appeared in the lurid newspaper accounts. The Turkish police were credited with solving yet another case.

  The DNA tests all pointed to Adem Yildiz. It proved impossible for either of them to create a plausible alibi.

  It turned out that while guilty of being an accessory to the crime, Fehmi was not directly responsible. He simply loved Adem and slept only with Adem, for many years. They had a strange and passionate relationship. At least that’s how Fehmi described it. It wasn’t really clear when it had begun, but it was somehow linked to Fehmi’s expulsion from military academy.

  Until recently, they had managed to maintain wha
t seemed from the outside to be a strictly business relationship, with their supposedly heterosexual identities remaining more or less intact. There would be much made in the morning of how drunk they had been the previous night, but that was all.

  They had experimented a bit with sadism, but it went no further than a fair degree of pain for their partners. And they had bought off their victims with handsome compensation.

  It all began when Fehmi tried out Deniz, that is to say, Salih, at the house in Ataköy. Deniz was roughed up. She protested and threatened Fehmi. When he insisted, Deniz fled, falling into the elevator shaft as he tried to escape. Adem wasn’t even told what had happened. He thought it was simply a case of arranging a transvestite to complete their threesome.

  When Fehmi finally told Adem exactly what had happened, he linked it to the prophets’ deaths, and the bloody games began. Our girls ended up like the prophets, and were made to pay for the sins of Fehmi and Adem.

  The pressure from Adem’s family and acquaintances, as well as his social prominence, had no doubt contributed to his losing his mind. There was also the constant demand for him to get married.

  Selçuk told me all of this. Even though it wasn’t part of his job description, he followed events closely as an honorary member of the department and the person who had apprehended the killers. There was a strong possibility that Fehmi would get off lightly and that Adem would be granted clemency on the grounds of temporary insanity.

  What I needed most was to forget all that had happened, to put it behind me as soon as possible. I threw myself into my job.

  Mare T.Docile, the account Ali was so desperate to land, invited me to Genoa to examine their computer systems. I took Gürhan with me. Although a trip abroad, girl-to-girl, would come nowhere near compensating him for the trauma he had suffered, it was sure to do him some good. Genoa was also quite close to Portofino. There was no better time of year to visit Portofino.