The Prophet Murders (21 page)

“But I’m not,” said Adem. “I’m no queer.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean just what I say. . . ” he said. “I’m not queer. I just like wearing women’s clothes from time to time. Knickers, stockings, garter belts . . . The feel of silky smooth fabrics on my skin . . . That’s all. I’m still a real man. I mean, I still like young boys like you.”

Well that was good news. There was still hope.

“Well, does your family know you’re still into girls’ clothes?” I asked.

“No,” he said.

“What do you do with your dresses? Where do you hide them?” I asked. “And what about your shoes . . . ”

“In a bag in the boot of my car. . . ”

I thought he’d flown here. What was this about a car!

“If I can’t dress up with you where can I?” he said.

“A friend of mine took me to a transvestite club the other day. I loved the girls there.”

He was, of course, referring to our club. And the girls he mentioned were our girls. He may even have been talking about me. I worried that Isa would give the game away by saying as much. I gave him a hard look. He had other things on his mind.

“But that’s like lesbianism,” Isa said. “Girl on girl.”

“That’s what you think,” Adem Yildiz growled. He gestured to the small tent springing from his loins. The sequined fabric twinkled in the candlelight.

Adem’s taste for transvestitism was as refined as it was grotesque. His mannerisms, attitudes, meticulously executed duties as a host and presentation of dinner were refined in the extreme, as was the way he flirted with Gürhan. It was like being in a well-written scenario for an English film. His sense of timing was impeccable.

On the other hand, his occasional lapses into ladylike manners, the coy look in his eye, his limp wrists and speech peppered with “honey” and “sweetie” were flamingly over the top.

We talked about Bodrum in the old days, how much it had been developed and the fact that Mazi harbour had somehow remained totally unspoilt. When Isa asked who owned the house at the other end of the harbour, Adem used a finger to trace in Isa’s lap a half-circle representing the harbour.

“Now, there are three houses with gardens just over here,” he began.

Adem wasn’t about to let this opportunity slip by. He provided details for every house in the area, groping his way across
sa Gürhan’s lap. In fact, he kept his hand on Isa’s map the entire time.

As we finished the meze he came straight to the point.

“Stay with me tonight.”

He looked from one of us to the other, and waited expectantly.

Then he added:

“The three of us . . . ”

It wasn’t what
sa was expecting.

“What do you mean?” he said.

“I mean all of us, together,” said Adem. “The bed is wide . . . and the night is long.”

I didn’t know what to say.

I knew what he liked. He’d want to bottom. His desire for a threesome could only mean one thing, a sandwich. And he’d be the filling.

With both of us in his bed he was unlikely to pose a threat. He wouldn’t dare try anything funny. Instead of ensnaring a maniacal killer I’d just been ensnared in an unpleasant sex romp. I stopped drinking the wine.

“I like you both,” he said. “All evening, while I waited for you, I imagined what we could get up to. You really turn me on.”

“Well, you’re not exactly spoiled for choice,” I observed tartly. “After all, we’re the only living things in the vicinity.”

He silenced me with a hearty chuckle.

“If you’re not interested, I won’t insist,” he said. “But let me tell you again: it’s not just that I’m horny, the two of you are so hot. And I fancy you both.”

Hackneyed sex talk has always annoyed me. Now was no exception.

“I’m a bit jealous,” I said. “I don’t like to share my lover.”

I said this knowing that he preferred younger boys, and hoping that he would settle for
sa Gürhan alone. But if he preferred someone a bit more masculine and mature, he’d choose me.

I was wrong.

“You’ll get a tidy sum for it.”

That ruined everything. It was natural enough for him to think that Isa was a whore, but I didn’t appreciate being lumped in with hookers.

“I’m afraid there’s been a terrible mistake. I’m not what you think,” I said. “I make love only for pleasure, not money.”

“Me too,” he said. “I only do it for fun.”

So I do
sa Gürhan piped in.

“And what’s with getting all formal on me, anyway?” Adem asked.

He leaned over and kissed me, probably leaving lipstick on my cheek in the process.

“Well we won’t jump. And it’s not a sack,” he said playfully.

“You’ve gone too far.”

“Far? You haven’t seen anything yet,” he said, his hand crawling up my inner thigh and onto my crotch. “We haven’t left the starting gate yet. Just wait till I get you into bed, then you’ll see how far I can take you.”

He weighed up the contents of his cupped hand, then withdrew the hand, chuckling softly.

sa Gürhan tittered. I silenced him with a glance.

“I think we’d best be leaving now,” I said.

“But we haven’t had the fish yet.”

“And what about dessert,” chimed in
sa Gürhan, tittering once again.

Adem went to the kitchen to fetch the fish.

I turned on
sa Gürhan. “Try to concentrate,” I hissed. “You’ve got to seduce him.”

“But he wants you.”

“He certainly does not,” I said. “It’s you he’s after. He’s just being polite. He doesn’t want me to feel left out, or to get jealous.”

“But isn’t that just what we want?” he asked.

“Yes, but he doesn’t know that.”

“Ah . . . ” said I

Before I had a chance to ascertain what
sa had understood from our little exchange, Adem returned carrying a platter.

“The fish,” he announced. “Fresh from the sea. I caught them myself this morning.”

Isa acted as though catching a fish was a fine art.

There were far too many fish for the three of us, but I hadn’t enjoyed such a fresh catch for ages.

I had just finished de-boning my first fish when a man’s voice called out from the garden.

“Ah, he’s arrived,” said Adem Yildiz.

Before I even had a chance to ask “who”, Fehmi
enyürek appeared. He set down his bag. We were introduced.