The Prophet Murders (20 page)

sa Gürhan had gone a little overboard in the costume department. We’d had everyone’s eyes, and even a few hands, on us since departure. Ultimately, this was a good sign. No one seemed to have a problem with his appearance. Except me.

I had succeeded for many years in keeping my distance from youngsters, whom I generally consider to be silly and obtuse. Now
I found myself with a bent boy in tow. I mentally prepared myself for the experience ahead. I was determined to pull it off
without a hitch.

I ignored the porter’s insistent enquiries as to where we would be staying, and leapt into the first taxi. It wasn’t until
we arrived in Mazi harbour that I realised how foolish it had been to forego bargaining over the fare.

I had brought along anything that could possibly be of use, and much that surely wouldn’t. An enormous bag contained my spy
kit. I’d purchased most of the items from Spy Shop in Queensway, London. I had infra-red binoculars, a listening device, and
heat sensitive camera and film.

sa Gürhan had stuffed a bag with his favourite articles from the wardrobes of Ponpon and myself. He’d tried on each and every
garment, discarding as shabby a stage costume Ponpon had treasured all these years.

The taxi driver was fairly young. He was on to us immediately. But I was too tense to give him more than a passing glance.
He made it clear that he knew the score, but didn’t seem inclined to flirt in any case. Considering my mood, he’d made the
right choice.

The journey took longer than I’d expected. We were assaulted by the latest pop.
sa Gürhan sang along with each song, commenting
on the singers. For me, they were indistinguishable.
sa Gürhan was no singer, he more than held his own with the radio
artists.

Mazi harbour has one of the few remaining bits of unspoilt coast. Cengiz’s house is on the far end of the harbour. I handed
the taxi driver a small fortune, and we disembarked.

I contented myself with a severe scowl. He went off to explore the house, pouting slightly.

There was nothing much to explore. Other than the living room we’d entered through the front door, there were two small bedrooms, a kitchen leading to a terrace and a tiny bathroom with an open shower.

The terrace was magnificent, ringed with wild thyme and rosemary. The table and gardening set had been brought in. The living room must be cramped in the winter. We’d have to move the whole lot outside. I hate such tasks. I silently wished Ponpon had
joined us after all. She’d happily arrange and rearrange a house for hours on end. As often as not, she’d return everything
to their original places, dissatisfied with the effect she’d achieved.

Before getting down to business I turned on the radio and placed it on the terrace, hoping to attract the attention of Adem
Yildiz if he was nearby. The tinny racket reverberated up and down the empty harbour. For the same reason, we both donned
a pair of tiny shorts. I did all I could to transform Gürhan into a sexpot. That is, with the materials on hand, to make him
look like a woman. The final touch was an apricot bandana tied over his head. Occasionally uttering hysterical shrieks, we
got to work.

The terrace was covered with dust and dirt. We’d have to wash it. I got the garden hose. It was hot and we’d perspired all
the way from the airport. I began by spraying Gürhan. Right on cue, he let loose screeches and yelps that would announce our
presence to any and all in the vicinity, including all forms of life and the very mountains, rocks and sea. From the opposite
side of the harbour a lone fishing boat responded with a wolf whistle. The clingy wet T-shirt completed Gürhan’s overall vampishness.

We’d barely moved two chairs to the terrace when Adem Yildiz materialised.

“Welcome.”

He spoke in a low whisper. He must have thought it irresistibly sexy. We were subjected to a raffish stare, the look of a
real lady-killer.

I introduced myself and gestured to Gürhan, saying, “And this is my friend Isa.”

Isa produced an insipid giggle as he scented his quarry. However, I didn’t notice any particular reaction from Adem when I
pronounced the name “Isa”.

“You must be Cengiz’s friends,” he said.

“That’s right,” I told him. “I really needed some peace and quiet. He was kind enough to give us the key. There’s nothing
like getting away from it all, is there?”

Adem Yildiz looked over at the radio as though wondering what my definition of quiet was.

“This place empties out once school starts,” he said. “I’m all alone in this big harbour. There aren’t many houses here anyway.
The weather’s perfect this time of year. You chose the right time to come. Welcome.”

“Thank you,” I said.

“I was starting to feel a bit lonely.”

It was time to play dumb.

“Do you live here year-round then?”

“No, I only come now and then.”

“Oh,” I continued. “We thought you lived here.”

Considering the deep tan he’d acquired since I last saw him, it was, in fact, a reasonable supposition.

“Actually, I live in Istanbul. But when I get the chance I come down here for a few days. Business obligations and things.
You know what it’s like.”

“I certainly do,” I assured him.

“Let me give you a hand. We’ll finish in no time and then we can all get something to eat together.”

Adem was like a heat-seeking missile. Without any preliminaries, he expected our instant assent to a dinner engagement.

“My caretaker and his wife live with me. He handles the gardening, cooks, things like that, you know. He’ll whip us up a feast
tonight.”

If Adem really did have some kind of caretaker, a doorman or gardener or whatever he was, he was unlikely to do much with
them around. I didn’t relish the thought of spending an evening at his home for nothing. Still, it would be an investment
of sorts. And it was true that our kitchen was empty. I didn’t even want to think of the expense of hiring a taxi to go food
shopping in the town.

“We’d be honoured,” I graciously accepted.

The way he continuously eyed up Isa while talking to me was getting on my nerves. But it was a sign that all was going to
plan.

As we moved the furniture I realised Adem Yildiz was a lot fitter than he looked. He stripped off his white Burberry T-shirt
and was left wearing only a pair of navy blue Bermuda shorts. His body was unexpectedly appetizing. And the little jokes he
indulged in weren’t all that offensive. I even laughed at some of them. Contrary to first impressions, he seemed almost the
gentleman.

He was already flirting in earnest with Isa Gürhan, but occasionally focused his attentions on me too. If he anticipated group sex, he was way off base.

The suave civility of our serial killer was beginning to affect me. I found him hard to resist. He had a charm that was difficult
to define. He wasn’t particularly handsome, nor did he have a spectacular build. There was no spark in his eyes. His sense
of humour was passable only at times. Logically, there was no reason to be drawn to the man. But he was appealing none the
less. He had a strange charisma. The way he rested his hands, his posture, the slight compression of his lips when he smiled,
the way he became almost girlish as he imitated us, joking around, then reverted to his usual machismo . . . The man had something
working for him, that was for sure.

I may have been able to resist, but Isa Gürhan was clearly infatuated and ready for anything. I congratulated myself for not
revealing all the details about Adem. If Gürhan had known, he wouldn’t be so much at ease. It was definitely better this way.

I was tired of waiting. I opened my laptop, got online and went through my messages. There was nothing important. That is, there was nothing that required my immediate attention. Jihad2000 was on the rampage. He’d cracked all my message codes and read each and every one. To prove it, he’d attached a sermon to them all as a sort of signature. I would handle him upon my return.

I wanted to call Ponpon to give her an update. She was no doubt going mad with curiosity. There was no telling what panicked course of action she’d take if she didn’t hear from us. My home phone was busy every time I rang. Ponpon seemed to be busying herself in my absence with hours spent on the phone. I resigned myself to a large phone bill.

The house was so tiny it was easy for me to monitor each step of Gürhan’s preparations. That is to say, I wasn’t surprised by the final effect. But I had to hand to it to him, he was like a graceful, young gazelle. He would have held his own against any fashion model. Swishing past me, he gave a half turn. I whistled my appreciation.

“Sorry it took so long, but what do you think?” he asked. “It was well worth the wait. You look fabulous.” I told him.

I was pleased with my merchandise. It wouldn’t do for me to out-dress him, since I didn’t want to draw unwanted attention to myself. I chose a simple, even refined ensemble. In a pair of thin, beige cotton trousers and a transparent ice-blue blouse that revealed my smooth, flat torso, I was almost plain. The outline of my white G-string, however, was most certainly visible from behind. That would create enough excitement.

It could get quite cool as the night wore on. I draped shawls over our shoulders.

Just before leaving, I set aside all the devices that might come in handy later. I checked the film and battery, and took the recording device and miniature camera with me.

As we left the house it was starting to get dark. The path leading to Adem Yildiz’s house winds down to the shoreline, then doubles back up a slope. It was lined with bushes bristling with thorns and sharp branches.
sa Gürhan tottered along in his super high heels. I took his arm.

The path wasn’t a long one, but the deepening dusk and rough track were slowing us down. There were virtually no lights around the harbour, and we found ourselves plunged into near total darkness. I cursed myself for not leaving at least one light burning back home. We’d have an even more difficult time getting back.

“I’ve got your arm,” I said reassuringly.

“And these shoes keep coming off.”

“Why don’t you carry them?”

“Are you crazy?” Gürhan replied. “I’ll cut my feet. Or at least get them dirty. I can’t let him see me with filthy feet.”

“Why don’t you dip your feet in the sea just before we get to the house. It’ll cool you off, too.”

“You’re so clever,” he cried. “You’ve got an answer for everything.”

I laughed.

“But I’m not putting my feet in that freezing water. Anyway, what’s the big deal? He can wait a little. It’s not like he’s out on a street corner. He’s at home.”

We continued walking.

Adem Yildiz’s house was several times larger than ours. Next to it was a huge boathouse, and in the garden a shed of some sort. It lay near the deepest part of the harbour. Through the darkness, I could just barely make out a Zodiac tethered to the pier. None of this had been visible from Cengiz’s house.

Some lights were burning on the side of the house facing the sea. As we climbed the stairs leading up from the sea, Isa Gürhan cried out:

“Yoo-hoo . . . We’re here!”

Adem’s voice floated out from inside. “Have a seat, I’m coming.”

“But where are you?” I asked.

“Just pour yourselves a glass of wine. I’ll be out in a second . . . ”

I did as instructed. Before handing the glass to
sa Gürhan I came to my senses, and paused.

“Would you care for a drink?”

“Yes, please,” he replied.

“Now it won’t do to get too tipsy,” I said. I Iooked
sa Gürhan straight in the eye and added, “You know what I mean!”

“You’re absolutely right,” he agreed demurely. I put the glasses back on the table.

“Surprise!”

As I spun round, I froze at the sight of Adem Yildiz.
sa choked back a half-screamed “No! This can’t be happening . . . ”

But it was happening: Adem Yildiz stood across from us in full drag, his arms extended high in the air as he awaited our approval. On his head was a raven black wig. A strapless lamé gown clung to his form, exaggerating his masculine frame. A tuft of chest hair poked out of his cleavage.

I didn’t know what to make of it. My astonishment must have been obvious, not just from my expression, but emanating from every pore of my body.

Without breaking his pose Adem Yildiz asked in his most macho voice, “So what do you think, girls?”

“Disastrous,” I wanted to say. But I held my tongue. In fawning tones, I managed a weak, “You look fabulous.”

“I didn’t want to miss the chance to have some fun. I sent my man away to Milas. He’s got a brother there. He’ll be back tomorrow.”

“Well isn’t that nice,” was my weak response.

I was at a loss for words. He certainly hadn’t wasted any time emptying the house. He was now free to say and do whatever he wanted. Here we were, on this dark moonless night, just the three of us.

When I thought of the Zodiac tied to the pier my spirits sank even lower. I hadn’t expected a manoeuvre of this kind so early in the game. I’d brought along a couple of things from Spy Shop, just in case, but I’d anticipated nothing more than an introductory dinner.

Crestfallen,
sa Gürhan sank into a chair. Taking tiny geisha steps in his miniskirt, Adem kissed us both on the cheeks. Gone was the macho man I’d unwillingly fancied by day, replaced by a lady of the night. Even as a coquettette he retained a touch of the thug.

“I wanted to join in,” he said. “This isn’t something I do regularly.”

“It suits you,” I said.

“Don’t,” murmured
sa

“Do you really think so?”

“Really.”

I was lying.

“You know what? I was dressed as a girl until the age of seven. My mother made me clothes. Little outfits all decked out with ribbons and bows. And big starched ribbons in my ringlets. You should see the pictures!”?. “So is that why you’re a big queer?” asked
sa. “Because they dressed you as a girl when you were a child?”