Arabesk

Chapter16

She was standing in the hallway as the party emerged from the drawing room, her eyes fixed upon the expressions on.the faces of Sergeants Çöktin and Tepe at the bottom of the staircase. Not that Ìkmen was looking at the eyes of Latife Emin. His gaze was firmly fixed upon her shoes which, he saw, were sturdy and 'sensible’. Given what'Dr Halman had just told him, he could clearly see that the left shoe had a thicker sole than the right' Yilmaz, who was standing, seemingly dumbstruck, to Ìkmen's right, gave a short gasp of surprise – or fear.

'I thought they had gone.. his more voluble brother exclaimed.

'Sergeants Çöktin and Tepe will take care of you for the time being’ Ìkmen said as he turned and smiled at the white-faced brothers.

'No!' Galip began, until Suleyman took hold of his arm and then wound it painfully up behind his back.

'Oh, I think yes,' he said with some force.

'I suggest you find a nice comfortable room to share with these gentlemen’ Ìkmen said to the two sergeants who had now, in the face of Galip's outburst, made it quite plain to all concerned that they were armed. 'If of course you can find anything remotely pleasant in this ghastly pile of crap’ he added with a smile.

Suleyman pushed the two brothers in front of him and handed them over to the two younger men.

'Sir’

And then Ìkmen turned to look at Latife Emin. Her face was as white as the thin linen of her blouse.

‘You know you really shouldn't be wearing such heavy shoes on a lovely parquet floor like this’ Ìkmen said taking her arm gently between his fingers. 'You could be doing it terrible damage. Why don't you take them off?'

Latife Emin moved the biography of Marilyn Monroe, which was her current entertainment when she was seated on the veranda, from her chair onto the table.

'Mmm’ Ìkmen said as he watched her lower herself into her seat. 'Like Marilyn do you?'

'Yes.'

'A woman unrecognised for her true talents.' Ìkmen picked the book up and turned it over. 'So you read English, do you, Miss Emin?'

'I manage’ she said as she motioned for the two men to sit down.

Ìkmen, as ever observant with regard to smoking requisites, viewed the numerous ashtrays with approval. 'I take it you don't mind if we smoke?' he said as he offered Suleyman a cigarette from his packet

'No, that's all right,' the woman replied, absently brushing a stray platinum hair out of her eyes.

The two men sat down and then lit up simultaneously. A few moments of silence, broken only by the barking of a distant dog, passed.

'So why did you murder Ruya Urfa?' Ìkmen asked when, in his estimation, enough time had elapsed.

‘I didn't' It was quite bald, a statement of fact.

Ìkmen smiled. ‘Oh? Did you not?'

'No.'

'So why did your sister shout at you to run after the car accident?' Suleyman asked, trying but without success to catch Latife Emin's elusive eyes.

'Because she thought that the petrol tank might be about to explode.' She looked up, questioning, as if seeking approval for this perfectly sensible reason.

'Yes, quite right' Ìkmen said, 'very wise. And your leg?' She frowned. 'What?'

'The leg our doctor assures us is shorter than the other. The left one, if my observation of your shoes-'

‘I was born with that defect' she said, 'but I don't usually limp. I compensate using the ball of my foot. Only since this accident.'

'Oh, come on now, Latife!' Ìkmen said, a deep chuckle rumbling at the back of his voice. 'I may be only a common Istanbul policeman but please do not insult my intelligence.' He leaned forward and studied Latife's shod feet hard. 'Even a fool can see that this one is built up to accommodate your infirmity,' he said, as indicating the large, if currently rather fashionable left-hand platform sole and wedge heel. 'A very professionally made shoe, Miss Emin, but please…'

'I always wear my shoes! Tansu hates people to see me without them! I would never, ever-'

'Did I say that you have ever been without your shoes, Miss Emin?' Ìkmen asked, his eyes just briefly flicking across to Suleyman's face. 'I don't think so. And even if you have, quite what that would mean I really don't know. Do you?' He sank back slowly into the depths of his chair and concentrated on his cigarette for a few moments. Latife Emin, her eyes still downcast, studied the top of the small occasional table at her side with some intensity.

'Where were you on the night of Ruya Urfa's death?' Suleyman asked.

‘I was here in my bed.'

'While your sister was either here with you or out at a bar in the city, depending upon which story you decide to tell.'

Ìkmen leaned forward towards Latife. 'You see, madam, when you tell us lies, we do get awfully confused.'

She looked up, her eyes exhibiting the fear both policemen knew she must be experiencing. 'I was here,' she said. 'It was Tansu who was out, doing whatever.'

'And can anyone confirm your whereabouts?'

'Apart from, of course, either of your brothers,' Ìkmen said with a smile.

'No.' Latife cast her eyes down once again at the table.

Again the silence rolled in across the room like a long, thick carpet

'We could go on like this all night' Ìkmen said as he ground his cigarette out in the ashtray and then lit another, 'with us putting points to you and you refuting them, but.

'But?'

'But I think that if Inspector Suleyman here gives you the whole story, that just might move things along a bit' Then looking across at Suleyman, he said, 'What do you think, Inspector?'

'I think that is an excellent idea.' Suleyman turned to look at Latife Emin's profile and smiled..'Ruya Urfa was poisoned with a piece of cyanide-laced almond halva. Cleverly, the sweet disguised the smell of the poison and, cleverly again, it was performed at a time when the whole of the city was engrossed in a game of football.'

'The only person definitely placed at the scene,' Ìkmen interjected, 'a middle-aged man with Down's syndrome, could not I'm sure an intelligent woman like yourself will understand, have possibly planned and executed such a complex crime.'

'Quite,' Suleyman agreed as he observed just the slightest greying of Latife's face. 'This man's prints were, however, found on the body of Mrs Urfa and he did remove the child, Merih Urfa, from the scene.' He leaned forward, again seeking to catch Latife Emin's eye. 'He said he did this because he feared the murderer, a woman answering your description, might return to harm the child at some time.'

'And so the Istanbul police take the word of a congenital idiot' It was said more as a statement of fact than as a question.

Ìkmen smiled. 'Although somewhat slow, Mr Temiz is no idiot, madam. He possesses two working eyes and he knows fear when he experiences it'

'And the description he gave of the woman he saw in the Urfas' apartment was good,' Suleyman said. 'Blonde hair, fur coat, of which we have some fibres.'

'You questioned my sister about this, my sister who was out all night.'

'Yes, we did,' Ìkmen said, 'which is why you know all about the significance of your unfortunate infirmity and its resultant awkward gait'

'What gait? What do you mean?'

'The gait Mr Temiz demonstrated in front of your sister.'

'Who,' Ìkmen said quickly, 'he thought was the perpetrator until he saw her walk towards him. But then you know that already, don't you?’

'But I don't have a gait, as you call it!' Latife cried, her face just a little flushed. 'I told you, if I go barefoot I always compensate using-'

'The ball of your foot Yes,' Ìkmen said, 'that I understand. And I expect that under normal circumstances you do just that. In the heat of the moment, however, for instance if you were disturbed-'

'But then if, as you are suggesting, I went to Ruya Urfa's home for some reason that night, why would I go without my shoes? As I've said, I always wear them.'

Suleyman smiled. 'Except,' he said, 'if it would be foolish to do so. And, given the size and heaviness of your shoes they would make rather more noise than I imagine you would want to generate on the marble floors of the Izzet Pasa apartments. The football notwithstanding, someone might have heard you. You couldn't take that risk.'

Latife Emin pushed herself back into her chair and observed the two men harshly. 'But I would look stupid and surely attract attention if I went somewhere without any shoes. And anyway, if my feet are so noisy, why have you not noticed it before?'

'If one is not looking for a certain thing or if something appears irrelevant one does not always notice it,' Ìkmen said gravely. 'And, if on the night of the murder you were wearing one of your sister's nice long coats- Well, as you've said yourself, you do routinely compensate for your infirmity and so you would look quite normal, wouldn't you?'

Briefly, as the silence of the night moved into the glass-bound room, Latife Emin looked sharply down at her feet before returning her gaze once again to the faces of her interrogators.

'Your doctor is spending a great deal of time with my sister,' Latife Emin said as she tried to make herself more comfortable in her chair.

'Maybe your sister has injuries of which she was previously unaware,' Ìkmen said calmly, 'or perhaps Dr Halman is administering a sedative.'

'In order to keep her quiet while you interrogate me?' Latife said with a smile. ‘I don't have to tell you, I suppose, that all the points you have put to me so far are speculative.'

'So you know law as well as English, do you, Miss Emin?' Ìkmen said. 'You're a clever lady. I wonder what other skills you possess.’

She turned away, looking out through the glass and into the garden.

'Having spoken to your gardener, Resat,’ Suleyman said, 'we are aware that a bottle of the same poison that was used to kill Mrs Urfa is on the premises.'

'Yes, in the greenhouse,' she replied smoothly. 'Do you want to see it?'

'Not yet'

'I believe you labelled it for him.'

'Yes, Re§at can neither read nor write.'

'But you like writing for him, don't you?’ Ìkmen said as he lit up another cigarette. 'You like to label things properly and show Resat that you can do that’

Latife Emin pushed one hand up into the thickness of her hair and then looked down at her watch. 'You do know,' she said, 'that if this business goes any further your so-called witness will be given a very hard time. Our lawyer can easily confound sane people, but with an idiot-'

'Oh, Mr Temiz is quite sane, I can assure you,' Ìkmen replied and then frowning he said, 'And besides, why should Mr Öz wish to confound Mr Temiz if, as I believe you are implying, he is not telling the truth? An "idiot", confounded or not, will become very quickly overawed and disorientated by the judicial process anyway. And if Mr Temiz has not been telling us the truth then it will come out at that stage.'

'Although it is, I must confess,' Suleyman said, to Ìkmen rather than Latife, 'much better if the real facts are known prior to trial.'

'Oh, yes,' his colleague replied, 'it allows the defence to really think about what mitigating circumstances might have been at work and, of course, to prepare the accused for all eventualities.'

Latife Emin laughed, quite a pleasant, trilling sound, devoid, unlike her sister's laugh, of any thickened smoker's cough.

'Oh, good try, gentlemen,' she said, 'but I know that if you had any conclusive forensic evidence I would be at the police station now instead of sitting here comfortably in my own home.' She rose to her feet. 'So, if you will excuse me…'

Suleyman looked across at Ìkmen, his face registering some panic. But Ìkmen, unmoving, seemed perfectly calm.

'You can of course go, madam,' he said, 'although if you are innocent, as you say, I am sure you won't mind getting dressed and coming with us to see Mr Temiz down at the station.' He smiled. 'Just to clear things up, you know. I mean in light of the fact that Mr Temiz was convinced that your sister was the assailant until he saw how she walked and considering that the two of you do look so very alike…'

'You may wear your shoes to travel, but we'd like you to take them off when we arrive,' Suleyman added. 'You do understand, don't you?’

She looked at both men in turn, and for quite some considerable time before answering. 'I’ll get ready then,’ she said decisively. 'Let's get this cleared up as quickly as possible, shall we?'

As she left the room Suleyman shot Ìkmen a nervous glance.

‘I think I'll go and help Doctor Halman take Tansu Hanim to her room now,' the older man said, to Suleyman's ears, somewhat cryptically.

Tepe, who was now a little more relaxed than he had been during his silent vigil with C5kotin and the Emin brothers, offered to drive his superiors, the doctor and Tansu's sister back to the station. He liked driving Suleyman's car, when pushed it really did go. Not of course that he would be racing the BMW on this occasion. Çöktin, for his part, drove alone in Tepe's car. One didn't have to be a genius to work out that he was unhappy about the events of the evening so far. But then it had all, for him, got rather too personal – especially when the singer and her brother called, somewhat desperately, upon his loyalty as Kurd. As Tepe pulled away and down the drive, he saw two pale faces at one of the downstairs windows. The brothers.

Once on the road, Latife Emin, who was seated between Suleyman and Dr Halman in the back of the car, turned to the psychiatrist and said, 'Will my sister be all right?'

'Yes. She's had a nasty shock, but I've given her something to help her sleep which will also bring her blood pressure down.'

'She has high blood pressure?' There was genuine concern, if not panic, in her voice now.

The doctor shrugged. 'It often accompanies stress. I doubt if it is a permanent condition.'

As the car passed though the picturesque districts of Ìstinye and Emirgan, both wealthy areas characterised, now that the sun had set, by fashionably dressed people going out to either eat or just enjoy the cooler night air, silence entered the BMW. And although Suleyman did, from time to time, look out at the colourful scenes which flashed by his window, he also occasionally stole a glance at Latife Emin's face which, with the exception of her continually darting eyes, was quite calm. But then, he thought, why should it not be so? She had been correct back at the house. All of the evidence against her, unless Cengiz Temiz identified her was circumstantial. And besides, he couldn't imagine what her motive for killing Ruya Urfa might have been, especially in light of Ìkmen's belief that Latife probably knew about Erol's religion. OK, Latife had on one occasion, as far as they knew, got closer to Ruya than most people, but whether she found out then that the Urfas were Yezidis was unknown. And anyway, if Latife were as clever as Ìkmen seemed to trunk, then she would not have killed Ruya in order to free Erol for her sister. She would have known that he would never marry Tansu. So if Latife had killed Ruya, there would have to be some other motive, wouldn't there?

Heading south underneath the great supporting struts of the Fatih Bridge, the car was making rapid but safe progress towards its destination. Glancing up at the mirror Ìkmen, who was seated beside Tepe, looked at the reflection of Latife Emin's pale face with interest. Not a flicker. Her nerve, he had to confess, was quite remarkable. He wondered how long it would last, especially when she was confronted with Cengiz Temiz. After all, the man had nearly collapsed when he saw Tansu -a fact which, surely, Latife knew.

Half an hour later, after the car pulled into the station car park, Ìkmen got his answer.

Quite when istanbulis developed the overwhelming anxiety so many of them exhibit when brought into contact with the police or the army is difficult to say. The troubled times of the 1970s when politics became both dangerous and polarised, or in the more settled eighties when the country, though quiet, lived under the yoke of martial law? Perhaps although Ìkmen felt personally that this phenomenon went back far further, back to the days when every man and woman lived in fear of what he or she might inadvertently say, back to the time of the despotic Sultan Abdul Hamid.

Had Abdul Hamid never reigned, it is difficult now to say just when the republic would have come about. Perhaps it would have still come into being in 1923, but living under a despotic regime for so long had certainly added impetus, the nation had been aching for change. Abdul Hamid, it is said, possessed more spies, who pandered to his paranoid fears, than any other modern monarch. There were thousands of them and he read every one of their reports. On a daily basis.

Latife Emin got out of the car quite calmly and willingly. She even, without assistance, walked purposefully over to the back entrance.

'You will be required to remove your shoes and then walk up and down in front of Mr Temiz,' Ìkmen said as he placed the large carrier bag he had just taken from the car boot in front of her. 'And, of course, you will have to wear this,' he added.

But it was the smell that finally did it.

When Suleyman opened the door onto that long, cell-lined corridor illuminated by the weak yellow light of night-time incarceration, a hot waft of reeking air escaped into the night. The scent of miserable unwashed bodies. Or perhaps it was the actual sight of the long blonde coat inside the bag. Latife Emin placed both her hands on the door posts and braced herself rigid inside the entrance. From the back she looked like a figure, so it occurred to Ìkmen, of Christ crucified.

She said just one word, 'No.'

'Having come this far, we must go on,' Ìkmen said as he placed one hand gently on her shoulder. 'Mr Temiz has already been prepared for your visit.'

'No!'

'Miss Emin…'

'And if he identifies me?'

Ìkmen looked at Suleyman and then back at what appeared, in the shadows, to be the deep blackness of her eyes.

'Then we will have to ask you some more questions, madam.'

Her face contorted in a way that, had Ìkmen been a less well-informed individual, he could easily have mistaken for the mask of a female devil.

Gentiy, but with some insistence, Dr Halman took hold of Latife Emin around the waist in an attempt to steer her into the building. 'Come along’ she said, 'this needs to be-'

'No! No, I can't!'

'But then why did you-'

'I'll tell you, all right?' she cried as great, misery-fattened tears streaked down her face. 'Just take me somewhere civilised and I'll tell you anything you want to know! And here’ she kicked the bag containing the coat violently away from her, 'take that thing away from me! Take it now.'