Arabesk

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?

No. He put the card back inside his wallet and tried to forget about it.

Although famous enough to appear regularly in most of the national newspapers herself, Tansu Hanim's family were almost totally unknown to the average man in the street. It was an ignorance that extended even to the fact of her surname which, Ìkmen and Suleyman discovered from the singer's brother, Yilmaz, was Emin.

Although considerably younger than his famous sister – Yilmaz claimed he was forty – he had neither her confidence nor her challenging demeanour. And under the sort of pressure Suleyman was exerting, Ìkmen felt that Yilmaz must soon crack.

But Ìkmen was wrong. Whenever Suleyman asked him what he was doing on the night of the murder and whether or not he saw his sister leave the house, Yilmaz just said that he was in his room alone all evening and that Tansu, as far as he knew, had stayed in also. He did not mention the servant Belkis, which – was clever, or perhaps lucky, Ìkmen thought, because it meant that Suleyman was being manoeuvred into a position where he would have to mention her. Soon Yilmaz would want to know why this questioning was necessary, and the reason, as both Ìkmen and Suleyman knew, was only hearsay.

However, recalling the rather impressive set of security measures, both human and electronic, that had greeted the two policeman at the entrance to Tansu's seraglio, Ìkmen decided to take one of his famous unconventional leaps of faith.

As Suleyman impatiently wracked his brains to think of another approach he might take to his interrogation, Ìkmen said, ‘I expect you're wondering why we're asking you these questions, aren't you, Mr Emin?'

'Y-yes, I w-was. I mean you c-come here-'

'Well, the fact of the matter is,' Ìkmen said as he looked out into the garden and then beyond at the rushing waters of the Bosphorus, 'the video tape from your sister's security system shows that she did leave this house in a Mercedes car on the night of Mrs Urfa's murder.'

'Oh.' As Yilmaz looked down at the floor, his eyes visibly filled with panic, Suleyman mouthed some very furious if unintelligible words at Ìkmen.

This had no effect upon the older man, who continued, 'And so you see, Mr Emin, if you did observe your sister leaving this house on that occasion, it would be pointless, maybe even criminal, to keep it from us. Withholding information from the police-'

'B-but I didn't, I s-swear.'

'If we had just the video evidence or just the testimony of little Belkis,' Ìkmen paused here for effect and watched Yilmaz's face whiten, 'then there might be room for doubt But we have both, Mr Emin. We have Belkis looking with you out of your bedroom window at your sister driving out of this estate and we have video of Tansu passing through the gates.'

Suleyman cleared his throat in a very obvious manner.

Ìkmen deliberately did not look at him. 'And so, Mr Emin?' he asked softly.

'W-with the g-girl I d-didn't do anything b-bad.'

'What you may or may not have done with your adult maid is not for us to judge, Mr Emin.'

'I…'

'Think carefully before you answer, Mr Emin,' Ìkmen said with a smile. 'I know how difficult these things can be when family are involved. But just take a moment to consider your own position.' He got up from his chair and walked over to Suleyman who all through Ìkmen's conversation with Yilmaz had continued to mug furiously at his old boss.

'If I had known you were going to lie to him, I would never have brought you along!' Suleyman hissed.

Holding up one hand to silence his colleague, Ìkmen kept his eyes firmly on the back of'Yilmaz Emin's slumped head. 'Sshh!'

'What may or may not be on those security cameras-'

.'We may well soon discover,' Ìkmen said and then added, his eyes twinkling in what to Suleyman was a maddening fashion, 'or not.'

'I-'

But before Suleyman could continue, Yilmaz turned to face his tormentors.

'I-I did s-see my s-sister leave that night. S-she drove out in the-'

The door which gave out onto the main hallway of the house sprang open with a loud bang as something that looked like a cross between a madwoman and a wild animal threw itself into the room.

'Yilmaz, you stupid, fucking fool!' Tansu raved as she ran, sharp fingernails raised, towards her brother. 'There is no tape in those cameras, there never has been!' And then she was on him, clawing at his face, her rank alcohol-soaked breath filling his nose.

As Ìkmen and Suleyman wrestled to remove the singer from her brother before she killed him, Latife watched from the doorway, visibly shaking.

In spite of the fact that the voice coming out of the radio was that of his beloved Tansu, Erol Urfa turned the volume down. It was one of those songs, those bitter, almost violent numbers that he really disliked. Songs which also contained references to things he preferred to brush aside. Not that Tansu knew. How could she?

He had, until Merih went missing, always been very careful about what he said and did, as had Ruya. And besides, it wasn't as if Tansu were educated or knew much about anything. But still she persisted with her 'peacocks', both dead and alive, and still she talked of the colour blue 'blinding her eyes'. He had once, some time back now, asked her why she used the symbol of those birds so frequently in her songs. At first she had just looked confused but then she had simply shrugged and said, 'I just do' in such an innocent way as to preclude further discussion. Anyway, with Merih sleeping contentedly at his side he had other more pressing considerations now. And besides, if Tansu loved him, as she undoubtedly did, even if she knew she wouldn't want to hurt him. Would she?

As the car in front of Erol's shuffled forward, he flipped his sunglasses down over his eyes. There were two teenage girls in the back of the vehicle in front who might recognise him. He couldn't take the risk. Fragile in spirit since leaving Tansu's home, all he wanted now was to get a little time out in the open alone with Merih. He looked across at the baby and smiled. Now that Ruya and what he now knew would have been his second child were dead she was, apart from Ali Mardin, the only connection he had with his old life in this horrible city. Sometimes, like now, he wanted to go home very badly. For all the problems and hardship that attended his life back there, the mountains and the plains more than made, up for all that And to be able to perform the morning and evening devotions outside and without fear of discovery, ah, that was something. In the meantime, he and Merih would just have to make do with Yildiz Park. With luck and on a hot afternoon, there would be more couples with children than clandestine lovers. Not that he was part of any sort of 'couple' himself; he never really had been. Poor Ruya had been far more Merih's mother than his wife. That 'honour' had gone to Tansu, his love, the woman who inflamed his flesh.

'What a weak and disgusting man you are!' he murmured to himself as he touched the accelerator pedal gently. Blinded by fame and money and sex. And although he was indeed suffering now, he had not suffered for his sins in the way that Ruya had. She, still alone and disregarded in the mortuary, had in the end paid the ultimate price for his vaulting ambition, his unnatural lusts. Some vile creature, he couldn't even imagine who, had come into their lives and taken her away for reasons that were still cloaked from him. According to Ibrahim, word in the bazaars was that Tansu had done it. But he couldn't or wouldn't accept this. The police still had that strange drooling neighbour in custody and although Erol knew nothing about Cengiz Temiz or his supposed friendship with Ruya, he hoped that this man was responsible. He hoped it would all end. If he had spent more time at the apartment, he might have been able to give the police more information about Temiz, but as it was he could do nothing to move the case forward.

The mobile telephone which was lying on the seat beside his sleeping daughter started to ring. Erol, keeping one eye on the traffic, picked it up quickly lest it wake Merih. She just muttered briefly before descending again into her carbon-monoxide-drenched dreams.

'Hello,' Erol said as he placed the thing to his ear.

'Erol, it's Ibrahim, where, are you?'

'I'm in the car taking Merih to the park,' he told his rather anxious-sounding manager. 'What's the matter, Ibrahim?'

'You'd better turn round and come back,' Aksoy said. 'I'll meet you at your apartment.'

A slight twinge of panic started inside Erol's chest. 'Is there a problem, Ibrahim? Speak to me, brother!'

'There might be, but… Look, meet me back at the apartment and I'll tell you all about it then.'

'Why not tell me now?' Erol said as he felt his heart begin to race in panic. 'Ibrahim!'

'Just get back to the apartment and I'll tell you then,' Aksoy snapped sharply.

'But-'

'As soon as you can, Erol,' and there was a click as Aksoy put his telephone down.

In spite of the thick heat around him, Erol suddenly felt very cold. Something had obviously happened. Maybe his manager had somehow found out what he shouldn't about the family Urfa. Although quite how he would find conclusive proof, Erol couldn't imagine, and surely that was not something that had to be dealt with urgently. No, it was something else, something far more immediate and serious.

Perhaps at last the police had actually arrested somebody for his wife's murder. But if that were so, Ibrahim would not, surely, have said that it could be a problem. If the Temiz man were found guilty, that would not be a problem, that would be a relief, unless…Well, the strange neighbour was not the only suspect, was he? As far as the police were concerned, everyone connected with Ruya basically fitted into that category – even Erol himself. As he felt his throat dry up and his eyes bulge with the pressure of fear he switched the radio over to one of the news stations. Not that there would be anything on there yet, but it gave him something to do. And caught in one of Istanbul's legendary gridlocks, there wasn't much that he could do except listen to the radio, sweat and begin to become irrational about his own position in this drama. After all, had he not, alone, found Ruya's body in the apartment? But surely if Ismail's problem were Erol himself, the police would have come for him by now, wouldn't they? With a slightly shaking hand Erol turned the radio down once again, to listen for sirens.