Arabesk

Chapter 7

Hell, it is often said, is a state of mind. Sometimes, however, the infernal zone can take on an all too physical manifestation. For Mehmet Suleyman it was a police station full of people yelling their own agendas. Given the conflicting nature of the individual needs of the various groups, the result was chaotic.

Erol Urfa, who had been called in some time before to identify his daughter, was edgily awaiting her reappearance from the room where she was currently being examined by a doctor. Resplendent in a black and red velvet suit, he had come in with his manager, what appeared to be all of Tansu's family and, strangely from Suleyman's point of view, Ìsak Çöktin. With the exception of Çöktin, the party looked as if they were dressed for cabaret which was what, in a sense, they appeared to be providing with their deafening babble of anger punctuated by occasional forays into tearful relief.

There was one group, however, that Suleyman was anxious to interview. Semra Arda, her daughter Mina and the English pimp all needed to be formally interrogated. The two women wept continually while the man just shook soundlessly within his handcuffs: Suleyman hoped their states were transitory although, logically, he knew it was unlikely. As soon as Cohen had appeared at the hamam and inquired after the baby, Semra had broken down and admitted that the child in her care was Urfa's. When Mina had been arrested she had denied this. There was a lot to sort out, and that was without the problems now being presented to him by both Cohen and an irate Zelfa Halman.

'We can't leave Madame to die alone,' Cohen said as he leaned tiredly against Suleyman's desk.

'Well, you'd better try to find out who her doctor is and get him over there,' and then dragging his hands wearily down his face Suleyman said, 'Why she isn't in hospital is beyond me.'

'But I don't know who her doctor-'

'Well, ask Semra Arda, she should know! Or perhaps even Inspector Ìkmen! He seems to know everything there is to know about everything!'

'Oh, right.'

'Go!' And then turning to the fuming woman in the corner, Suleyman snapped, 'And? Yes?'

As soon as the door had slammed behind Cohen, Zelfa Halman started. 'What do you think you are doing with Cengiz Temiz?'

'What?' Either through tiredness or genuine forgetful-ness Suleyman was suddenly and completely confused.

'Cengiz Temiz?' She moved towards him, her cigarette held before her like a weapon. 'You know, the man with Down's syndrome you put into the care of three characters straight out of a Lovecraft short story.'

'Eh?'

'When I arrived less than an hour ago he was hysterical, swimming around in his own piss and had mutilated himself! God knows how long he'd been like that. I strongly suspect that those cretins you had charged with his care only called me when they smelt his blood!'

'Dr Halman-'

'I'm telling you now that if the Temiz family make a complaint, I will support them.' She rudely pointed her cigarette at his face. 'I expected better of you, Inspector! You and Ìkmen are usually more compassionate than what generally passes for policemen in this bloody country.'

'Upholding prisoners' complaints is your right, Doctor,' he said. 'In Ireland-'

'Where people are frequently bombed and shot,' he looked up at her face which was now white with fury. 'Yes? You were saying?'

The switch from Turkish to English was sudden and ferocious. 'Don't even begin to tell me about the country of my birth, Mehmet! Don't even breathe about things you don't understand! There is about as much similarity between yourselves and our Garda as there is between a rock and my arse!'

'Then perhaps, Dr Halman,' he said, joining her in the English language, 'you should return to practise in the country of your mother.'

'Don't think I don't want to!'

He turned aside to retrieve a stack of files from the floor. 'If that is what you want, that is what you must do.'

As a thick, resentful silence enveloped the room, Suleyman opened the top file and made some attempt to get beyond the first sentence. Out of the corner of his eye he watched as she paced angrily up and down in front of his desk. Then suddenly and explosively, once again, she said, 'So do you want me to go or-'

'My personal feelings are irrelevant,' he answered, slipping easily back into his native tongue. 'If you are professionally frustrated here…'

'So you'll not ask me to stay for any other reason then?'

Anxious that those outside should not be privy to an exchange that had now taken on a personal edge, Suleyman returned to English again. 'If you wait for me to beg, you will wait a long time.' Turning aside to pick up his cigarettes he added, 'If you fail to understand then speak to your father.'

'Oh, I understand all about Turkish male pride all right!' she said as her eyes unbidden began to water. 'It fucking stinks!'

He stood up quickly, towering above what was now the shrunken figure of his opponent 'I have no more time for this,' he said. 'I have people to interview. If you wish to draft a report on Cengiz Temiz and leave it on my desk I will attend to it as soon as I can.'

'So I'll not be seeing you at the house for a while then?'

"That decision is entirely in your hands,' he said and then, turning sharply, he put his hand on the door handle and turned it.

It may have been an optical illusion but Zelfa Halman did think that she saw just a little wetness around his eyes as he moved away. But as he opened the door onto the babbling hordes outside, she flung the word 'Bastard!' at him anyway.

Those beyond the door suddenly became very quiet

Çetin Ìkmen switched the telephone off and then flung it carelessly onto the floor.

'What's going on?' Fatma said as she kicked the sheets back over to his side of the bed and turned her sleepy face up to his. 'Is it Bulent?'

'No. Go back to sleep.' He kissed her lightly on the lips and then swung his legs over the side of the bed. As he sat up, he felt his head swim with tiredness.

'get in…'

'I have to go out,' he said as he shakily placed a cigarette in his mouth and lit up.

Fatma opened her large brown eyes and blinked. 'Why? You're not working.'

He breathed the smoke deeply and then almost instantly clutched at his stomach. 'Someone needs me.'

'But you're not well!' She sat up, suddenly and shatteringly awake. 'Anyway, who needs you so much Çetin? At this hour?'

As he clipped his watch onto his wrist, Ìkmen sighed. 'Madame Kleopatra. It's a long story, but basically Suleyman has left her in the hamam to die alone.'

'But Mehmet wouldn't-'

'Yes, but Cohen says that he has. Dr Katsoulis is on his way but he's having to come from his home in Anadolu Kavagi. Madame is an institution, she should not die with only her nightmares for company.'

'Why should she have nightmares? She was, I thought, always a good woman.'

Ìkmen stood up and stretched, cigarette in mouth. 'When Halil and I were little, Mother used to take us to the Ìskender Hamam. It was a long way for us but Madame even then had something of a reputation. Like most women, Mother would take food, all the clothes and potions we needed for the day and,' he smiled, 'her cards. Madame lay great store by my mother's predictions.'

'So she's a witchcraft friend, is she?' Fatma said with a scowl. Despite having been married to Cretin for nearly thirty years, Fatma still did not approve of her late mother-in-law. That she had been Albanian lent her a strange 'otherness' that was forgivable. Her practiced the so-called black arts was less acceptable.

Her husband, dressing hurriedly now in the half-light from the street lamp outside, ignored Fatma's disdain, as was his custom. 'Then when Mother died, Madame played a different type of card game with my father,' he said. 'Madame, Mimi Sarkissian and Timür would play for hours for just a few kuru§ -until Madame took to her deathbed.'

'Was her husband still alive then?'

Ìkmen knotted his tie and shrugged. 'I don't know. Arto's father had died which was why Mimi used to come.' He sighed. 'I can't believe Mimi died so quickly after Timür. When Madame goes, that whole way of life will have disappeared.'

With a grunt of pain as her back creaked, Fatma hauled herself across the bed and then kneeled up to help her husband with his tie. 'You're a good man, Çetin Ìkmen,' she said, her hps a little tight around this admission.

When she had finished arranging his tie, Ìkmen bent down to kiss his wife again. ‘I am an old sinner, as well you know,' he said with a smile. And then flinging his jacket across his shoulders he crept quietly towards the bedroom door.

Fatma who had far too many children to be able to help herself said, 'Drive carefully.'

As soon as Mina Arda took her eyes off the female officer across the desk and looked at Suleyman, she started to shake. That moment when she'd first seen what had to be the most attractive customer she'd had for years now seemed very far away. Now, by sharp contrast, she could barely tolerate his voice without wanting to be sick.

'You do have a right to legal representation,' he said.

The female officer cleared her throat in a way that Mina interpreted as disapproval. Not that talk of lawyers made any difference to Mina anyway. With absolutely no assets beyond her meagre 'wages' from Mickey, she knew what type of lawyer she could afford.

'No,' she said, ‘I don't want that.'

'I should tell you,' he said as he settled himself next to the female officer and lit up a cigarette, 'that the charges against you are very serious. Your mother claims she did not know the child you appeared with on the night of Mrs Urfa's murder was Erol Urfa's daughter until she saw the broadcast yesterday evening. She says you "needed a child". Can you tell us about that?'

'No. But if you ask my mother, she will.'

'You're being very obstructive for one who is facing charges of both kidnap and murder.'

'I didn't kill Mrs Urfa! I didn't even know her!'

'But you came into possession of her child in order to fulfil some sort of need.' He flicked the ash from his cigarette into an ashtray and then leaned forward across the table. 'Did perhaps Mickey procure the child for you or-'

'Mickey has got nothing to do with it! He may be a crazy violent bastard and I hate him, but-'

'You don't need to protect him, you know,' the female officer said. 'He can't hurt you now.'

'Officer Kaya is right,' Suleyman put in. 'You must look to yourself now, Mina.'

'Look,' Mina said, tears rising in her eyes once again, 'whatever Mickey may or may not be, he's got nothing to do with this!'

'Considerable quantities of hashish have been discovered in your apartment Mickey, we know, made a call to a known drug dealer just before I entered your apartment. Together with an ampoule of what would seem to-'

'It's morphine,' Mina said and then added quickly, 'which is mine.' She sighed. 'Mickey hates children. He would have gone crazy if he'd found out I had the baby. I stole the amp from the lady my mum looks after.'

'Madame Kleopatra?'

'Yes. I thought that if I could give Mickey a little bit extra every so often it would allow me time to go and see the baby.'

'So he does take opiate drugs then?' Kaya asked.

'What do you think!' Mina then turned back to the hated Suleyman. 'Mickey isn't involved in this’ Inspector. Let him go.'

'So, if Mickey isn't involved and you did not kill Mrs Urfa in order to procure her baby, how did this all come about, Mina?'

Mina slumped her chin down onto her hands and murmured, 'Can I have a cigarette?'

Suleyman pushed his packet and lighter across the table to her. Mina lit up and then, on a sigh, she began.

'It was the fat boy who brought her to me,' she said and then, seeing the look of confusion on Suleyman's face, she explained, 'He's a client of mine. He's middle-aged, lonely and… he says he loves me and… you know. He brought me the baby with some wild story about how her mother had been killed by a devil. He said that with the mother now dead and this demon or whatever on the loose, he had to put the baby somewhere safe and so he came to me. Not that I cared very much where the little one came from, as soon as I saw her, I knew that I wanted her. Just like the fat boy knew I would.'

'So how soon after that did you realise that the child was in fact the missing Merih Urfa?'

'I had a feeling when I heard about it on the radio sometime the following afternoon. Then when I saw the little one on the television…' She shrugged.

Officer Kaya frowned. 'How did this fat boy know, as you put it, that you, a working woman, would want a baby?'

Mina looked from Kaya across to Suleyman and then back at the woman again. Td rather tell you alone or with another lady, if…' She put her head down and looked at the floor.

'So do you know the name of this fat boy?' Suleyman said, quickly changing from a subject that he knew he couldn't handle to one that he could.

'Yes.'

'Well?'

Mina looked up into what seemed to her to be his hard eyes. 'He didn't do it, you know. It was as he said, a demon.'

'Well then, if it was a demon, your friend has nothing to fear, does he?'

As soon as he had said it, Suleyman realised that he had spoken in that patronising way the upper orders were wont to do when attempting to communicate with the poor and ignorant. Not that Mina was a member of the latter group, as he soon found out.

'A smart man like you doesn't believe in demons, Inspector,' she said. 'I know you're just trying to get me to deliver my friend and-'

'If you don't, Mina, you will stand trial for kidnap, at the very least, on your own.'

'And given the profile of this case,' Kaya put in, 'you could go to prison for a long time.'

'Besides,' Suleyman said as he ground his cigarette out in his ashtray, 'perhaps what your friend saw, though not a demon, was a person whose description could be very useful to us. We do need to catch this person before he kills again, you know.'

Mina took a long drag on her cigarette and then tapped some ash out onto the floor. 'The fat boy might be a bit crazy, but I definitely heard him call the demon a her.'

'So he saw a woman somewhere in the vicinity of Mrs Urfa's apartment presumably, and…’

'He saw her coming out of the apartment, I think. Then he went in to get the baby.'

Suleyman frowned. 'How?'

'I don't know.'

'Well, I need to know and very quickly, Mina.' Suleyman rose to his feet and walked over to her side of the table. 'And now would be as good a time as any.'

He placed his hands firmly on the table one each side of Mina's body. She cringed. Towering above her, his tall body reeking of expensive aftershave and privilege, she suddenly felt very small and very frightened. People, she had heard, sometimes disappeared in places like this. Hard-faced policemen could and did do awful things, the bazaars were full of such stories. And just because this man and his unnatural-looking woman in uniform hadn't beaten her yet didn't mean anything really. Mina felt her heart begin to pound. Perhaps she should have taken the inspector up on his offer of a lawyer after all. Not that it was too late now, but.

'I'm waiting, Mina’ he said gently, wheedling into her ears. 'If this person kills again you will not only be answerable to the law but also to Allah. You will have colluded in another death. Think about it'

'But if I say’ she said through the tears that were now spilling heavily down her face, 'you will hurt him and I know that he didn't do it. He is gentle and good.'

Pressing home his rising advantage, Suleyman placed his lips almost on Mina's ear as he whispered, 'But if he is innocent I will have no reason to hurt him, will I?'

Officer Kaya, who had been watching what seemed to be almost a seduction enacted before her, shifted nervously in her seat But neither Suleyman nor Mina paid her any heed.

As he moved Mina's chin upwards so that he could look directly at her face, Suleyman said, 'Please tell me his name now, Mina. Please.'

As his large slanted eyes bore into hers, Mina murmured, 'His name is Cengiz Temiz’ And then, all of a sudden as if a spell or some such had been broken, her revulsion of him returned and Mina put her head down and vomited onto the floor.

When he returned from putting Erol Urfa, the baby and entourage into the vehicles to take them home, Ìsak Çöktin was smiling. 'When he comes back tomorrow, EroFs going to fill the station with roses, by way of thanks,' he said gleefully.

'Is that going to happen before or after his interview with your boss?' Cohen asked acidly.

'Don't you think it's wonderful that the baby has been found safe?' Çöktin said as he sat down next to an exhausted and strangely plain-clothed Cohen.

'Well, seeing as how I was there, yes I do,' he said. 'You were with Urfa, weren't you?'

'Yes.' There was something a little guarded in Çöktin's reply which Cohen picked up on immediately. 'He was very distressed after the broadcast. He's getting edgy about when he might be able to collect his wife's body. He wants to take her home to his village.'

'Until Dr Sarkissian's finished taking samples, he'll have to stay edgy. And anyway I find all this concern after death a bit insincere. I mean, it's not like he was that interested in the poor woman during her life. Too busy running around with that old tart.'

'You don't understand,' Çöktin said with some heat in his voice.

'Oh yes I do,' Cohen replied in kind. 'Erol Urfa wanted it all. He wanted to be the dutiful son of his father and marry the little girl he was betrothed to who could and would give him children. He also wanted to further his career and have some real dirty sex with that Tansu. There is nothing you can tell me about men, sex and arranged marriages, so don't even try.'

As they both sat in disgruntled silence, Sergeant Orhan Tepe passed by and smiled. "The hippy has asked for somebody from the consulate,' he said as he threw his car keys into the air and then caught them again. 'But I'm going home to my wife and family.'-

'Lucky you,' Cohen murmured dejectedly.

Tepe laughed. But then just before he reached the door to the car park he turned and said, 'Is your name really Balthazar?'

‘Oh, fuck off!'

When the door had closed behind Tepe, Çöktin looked up at Cohen and sighed.

'He's always so happy, isn't he?' he said, looking after Tepe, a slight frown upon his face. 'But then his wife has recently given him a son and I guess that has to be reason enough.'

Cohen, relieved that further discussion of his name did not seem to be on the agenda anymore said, 'So was the Urfa baby all right? No rashes from beans or whatever it was she wasn't supposed to eat?'

'No.'

'You do know that the inspector would have had your balls for staying on with Urfa, don't you?'

Çöktin, missing the point of just who Cohen was talking about, said, 'He seemed OK when he arrived with you and the prisoners.'

'I'm not talking about Suleyman!' Cohen said with just the hint of a bitter laugh in his voice. 'God, you're young! No, I was talking about the inspector, Ìkmen. He always wants to know where everyone is all the time. Feels personally responsible for us.'

'You're not criticising Inspector Suleyman, are you, Cohen?'

'Not to you,' he said as he stood up and moved towards the front office. He opened the door just as Dr Halman swept majestically out of the building, her face vaguely furious. As he stood amid the general hubbub of police officers coming and going, Cohen wished that, rather than wait for Mehmet, he could just settle himself to going out to see Ìkmen at Madame's. But then he had a really rather important report to write plus he felt that, in view of Dr Halman's expression, Suleyman might really need him.

Despite the fact that the car, which was taking the most direct route back to Yeniköy, was passing through brightly lit streets, Merih Urfa stayed resolutely asleep in her father's arms. Although exhausted, Erol couldn't take his eyes off her for a second. From time to time he reorganised her shawl in order to make her more comfortable. Tansu, who cooed at the child occasionally when she wasn't staring blankly out of the window, sat on one side of her lover while on the other was Erol's manager, Ibrahim Aksoy, who was smoking a large Cuban cigar. Despite their police driver and Tansu's sister Latife, sitting beside the officer, Aksoy was being extremely candid about his protegees future.

'Of course we'll have lost the George Michael fan base now,' he said as he flicked his ash out of the window.

'What do you mean?' Tansu inquired as she took her cigarettes out of her bag and lit up.

Aksoy sighed. 'Darling, we marketed Erol after what I call the "George Michael model". It's why we kept poor Ruya such a dark secret. Like George Michael, I designed Erol to appeal to the young teenage girls who, I know you will agree, would cry bitterly if they discovered their idol was a married man with a child. With you in tow I knew we could retain the children and fascinate their mothers at the same time. It was perfect But Erol's fatherly state is now out in the public domain, like Michael's homosexuality. I'll have to find an altogether more mature image for him now.'

Latife, who had until now been sleeping, suddenly found herself awakened by wreathes of acrid smoke.

‘I don't think it's a very good idea to smoke around that baby,' she said, winning a smile of agreement from Erol.

Aksoy, who had been genuinely unaware that what he was doing was wrong, quickly put his cigar out in the ashtray in the car door. 'Sorry.'

Tansu, however, was quite another matter. 'Well, she'll have to get used to it if she's going to live in my house,' she said, giving her sister the sort of look that could strip paint. 'I have to smoke.' And then, as if to make the point even more strongly, she took a drag on her cigarette and blew it into Latife's hair.

'I'm sure we can come to some sort of arrangement,' Erol said, taking Tansu's free hand in his and kissing it 'After all, we won't be with you for that long, Tansu.'

'Oh, but you mustn't go now!' the ageing singer cried, hurling her cigarette out into the night as she clung, limpet-like, to Erol's arm. 'Not now that you're-'

'We can't stay with you for ever, Tansu,' Erol said and nervously looked across at Aksoy.

'No,' his manager agreed, 'it would hardly look right, Tansu darling. Not at least until things are finalised with regard to poor Ruya. You must see that.'

'Yes, but well,' she was pouting now, thwarted in her desires, child-like, 'well, we could get a nurse or maybe Latife could-'

'As soon as I can I must set about making a home for Merih and myself.' Erol hugged the child tightly to his chest 'I must do the right thing.'

'And what about me?' Tansu asked, her long, thin eyebrows arched with arrogance. 'What about the "right thing" for me?'

'In time all will become clear,' Aksoy said with what seemed to Tansu misplaced confidence. 'I have a meeting tomorrow with Ferhat Göktepe.'

'With my agent?' a very agitated Tansu cried. 'Why are you meeting him?'

'To discuss how we may jointly facilitate your careers in the light of this tragedy. How you two plus little Merih here may be-'

'I don't want Merih exploited!' Erol said as he tore his arm away from Tansu and looked angrily at his manager. 'I want things to be quiet now.'

Aksoy laughed. 'Oh, Erol,' he said, 'I don't think there's much chance of that, do you?'.

Erol Urfa's features flushed, forcing him to turn back to face the front of the car. But then the truth, he knew, could provoke many emotions, including anger. Of course Ibrahim Aksoy was right, there would be no peace until the business of his wife's death was concluded. Her killer, sooner or later and whether or not it turned out to be that odd neighbour, had to be nailed. Until then, suspicion and rumour would abound, not least about himself. If nothing else, his appointment with Inspector Suleyman tomorrow morning was testament to the fact that he was hardly out of the frame yet. After all, with Tansu sitting extravagantly at his side, he didn't exactly fit the traditional model of an ideal husband.

As the car passed in front of the heavily guarded Dolmabahce Palace, the driver no doubt noticing Erol's sweat-swamped face said, 'Would you like me to turn the air conditioning up, Mr Urfa?'

'Yes,' Erol said as he smiled into the sleeping face of his child, 'that would be nice.'