The Prophet Murders (24 page)

“There was no way to reach you. I waited, expecting you to at least give me a call. Nothing. I cancelled everything. I sat here by the phone. Can you imagine what I was going through?

“All I did was think about the two of you! I couldn’t even work. I tried to bake a cake. It came out like a piece of plywood. It didn’t rise or anything. And I was so careful to measure out all the ingredients.

“That was the last straw. First I called that man of yours to ask if there was any way to reach you. He told me there was no phone. All my worst fears were confirmed. Well, I went from bad to worse. I was desperate. He noticed, of course. He asked what was wrong. As far he knew, you’d gone to get away from it all, to unwind. I thought it best to let something slip. Just a hint. Then he could be counted on to get the whole story out of me. Once I spilled a few beans he became as anxious as me. He kept egging me on to tell him more. The more I told him, the more worried he got. The more worried he got the more details he demanded. So there we were, on the phone, in a feeding frenzy.

“Just before take-off Selçuk Bey received some more information about the case. He acted as though it was nothing important, but he went white as a sheet. Naturally, I noticed. At a glance. But I had enough on my plate as it was. I pretended everything was fine. I made it seem like I was only panicking about catching our flight.

“He was on to me. I mean, he’s been around the block a few times. You should have seen the way he talked to me, so slow and steady. As though to calm me down. I was having none of it. Can you imagine me falling for that? I kicked up such a fuss! Well, he told me everything. He’d received news that Fehmi, too, had gone to Bodrum. I went mad the minute I heard that. I swear, my blood pressure went through the roof. Even now, just thinking about it . . . I told him he had to let you know somehow. It’s not as if there aren’t any police stations in Bodrum, a sensible officer or two.

“And then – would you believe it – the flight was delayed. That’s when I lost it. There was no shutting me up. I gave each and every one of those air hostess women a piece of my mind, I can tell you. If Cengiz hadn’t covered my mouth I’d still be at it now. But then I remembered my blood pressure. The last thing I needed was to have some kind of seizure on that plane, as though we didn’t have enough problems. I’ve got my suspicions about this old blood pressure business in any case. Up and down it goes, without rhyme or reason.

“By the time we landed everything had been arranged. Two police cars were there when we stepped off the plane. ‘Welcome chief’ and the whole shebang. We were in no condition to stand on ceremony. Just a quick salute and straight into the car. ‘Step on it,’ I told the driver. ‘It’s not like you’ll get a ticket for speeding.’ And that’s how I brought them all to you!”

Ponpon’s screeches were the sweetest thing I’d ever heard. It was a real raid. Selçuk in front, gun drawn, Cengiz and Ponpon right behind him, with a bunch of policemen.

We were rescued. Adem and Fehmi were arrested.

Ponpon’s panic attacks had saved the day. Unable to reach us, she’d called every number she believed could be useful. She had told everyone everything she knew, making up whatever was needed to fill in the gaps. She was determined to worry them all. And she had succeeded.

Cengiz went crazy when he found out my true reasons for going to Mazi harbour. When Selçuk learned of my suspicions concerning Adem Yildiz he decided to authorise a raid without waiting for the results of the DNA tests. Of course, Ponpon wasn’t to be left out. This time, she made sure she was one of the party flying to Bodrum.

That was all I managed to piece together from Ponpon’s efforts to comfort me, to calm me down.

It seems I was loved.

I wasn’t happy about Selçuk and all those police seeing me naked, but of course I didn’t let that bother me too much. Ponpon immediately covered me with a tablecloth.

Poor Gürhan was only semi-conscious. He’d wet himself. Knowing I was responsible for his sufferings, I tried to think of a way to clear my conscience. I couldn’t. I took his limp body into my arms and kissed him. Through my tears, I told him I was sorry. I’m not certain he heard me.

The police let Adem Yildiz and Fehmi
enyürek get dressed. Then they were hustled out in handcuffs. Neither bothered to explain what they had done been doing. They’d do that later.

Ponpon, Cengiz, Selçuk, Gürhan and I were left alone in that house. We looked at each other uneasily. Gürhan sank into the chair where Fehmi had been sitting.

“You’re out of your mind!” sputtered Cengiz. “A real nutcase. How did you dare to do something like this?”

I just looked him straight in the eye. What was I supposed to say?

“You could have at least told me,” Selçuk chimed in. “I’d never have expected you to do this on your own.”

“What if we hadn’t got here in time!”

He’s still in shock.”

And I was.

“All right everyone. I’ll make us all a nice cup of coffee. We’ll feel better then.”

And that was Ponpon in a nutshell: able to switch in a split second from total panic to attentive housewife mode.

“Please,” I said. “I can’t stay here. I’ve got to get out of this house. Now.”

I was sitting right across from the iron rings. The belt lay on the floor just to the left. To my right, was a tangled heap of discarded clothing. My eyes landed on a pair of boxer shorts decked out with tiny butterflies. I felt nauseous.

“Excuse me,” I mumbled as I staggered out towards the garden, Ponpon right behind me.

The tablecloth slipped off my back. There, in a corner of the terrace, I dropped to my knees and was sick. Draping the tablecloth back over my shoulders, Ponpon softly said, “You crazy thing.” I had never heard her speak with such tenderness.

She knelt down to hug me. She was so comfortingly large, such a perfect combination of fatherly masculinity and motherly warmth. I wiped my mouth on a corner of the tablecloth.

Cengiz’s house, which we’d cleaned and tidied only the day before, was just what I needed. The rising sun played across the still waters of the harbour, swirls of amethyst and amber.

Ponpon made us coffee. Gürhan fell asleep. I told them everything I knew and all I suspected.

When I finished, Cengiz rose from his chair and came close.

He held me. I appreciated his doing so even in front of Selçuk.

I was proud of him. He kissed the top of my head. His body smelled wonderful. I leaned close.

The DNA tests all pointed to Adem Yildiz. It proved impossible for either of them to create a plausible alibi.

It turned out that while guilty of being an accessory to the crime, Fehmi was not directly responsible. He simply loved Adem
and slept only with Adem, for many years. They had a strange and passionate relationship. At least that’s how Fehmi described
it. It wasn’t really clear when it had begun, but it was somehow linked to Fehmi’s expulsion from military academy.

Until recently, they had managed to maintain what seemed from the outside to be a strictly business relationship, with their
supposedly heterosexual identities remaining more or less intact. There would be much made in the morning of how drunk they
had been the previous night, but that was all.

They had experimented a bit with sadism, but it went no further than a fair degree of pain for their partners. And they had
bought off their victims with handsome compensation.

It all began when Fehmi tried out Deniz, that is to say, Salih, at the house in Ataköy. Deniz was roughed up. She protested
and threatened Fehmi. When he insisted, Deniz fled, falling into the elevator shaft as he tried to escape. Adem wasn’t even
told what had happened. He thought it was simply a case of arranging a transvestite to complete their threesome.

When Fehmi finally told Adem exactly what had happened, he linked it to the prophets’ deaths, and the bloody games began.
Our girls ended up like the prophets, and were made to pay for the sins of Fehmi and Adem.

The pressure from Adem’s family and acquaintances, as well as his social prominence, had no doubt contributed to his losing
his mind. There was also the constant demand for him to get married.

Selçuk told me all of this. Even though it wasn’t part of his job description, he followed events closely as an honorary member
of the department and the person who had apprehended the killers. There was a strong possibility that Fehmi would get off
lightly and that Adem would be granted clemency on the grounds of temporary insanity.

What I needed most was to forget all that had happened, to put it behind me as soon as possible. I threw myself into my job.

Mare T.Docile, the account Ali was so desperate to land, invited me to Genoa to examine their computer systems. I took Gürhan
with me. Although a trip abroad, girl-to-girl, would come nowhere near compensating him for the trauma he had suffered, it
was sure to do him some good. Genoa was also quite close to Portofino. There was no better time of year to visit Portofino.

Even as Ponpon tended to the wounds he’d received from the lashings, Gürhan began dropping heavy hints about breast implants.

I sent Gürhan off to stay with Ponpon. They were going to live together until we went to Genoa. Gürhan didn’t want to return
to his family. “What difference will it make if I get a diploma,” he reflected. He planned to become a top model. I always
find it a bit chilling when people so obviously fail to learn from their experiences.

The club went on as before, thanks to Hasan. I had neither the desire nor the strength to face the girls’ pestering questions.
Hasan would be sure to fill them in on every last detail. Things would calm down, and then something new would come along.
Soon enough, the girls would forget what had happened to me. I might even be able to laugh about it one day.

I sent a long e-mail to Jihad2000, briefly summarizing events. I thanked him for his help. After all, it was in his power
to crash my entire computer system. It would be prudent to maintain warm relations. I explained how tense I had been due to
the case, and asked him to keep that in mind in light of the way I had treated him. That is to say, I begged his forgiveness.
In bold, capital letters I told him that his help had given me the courage to go forward with my plan.

He replied with an extravagant e-mail informing me that he understood and, for the moment at least, expected nothing further.
What he wrote was a cliché, but the message in which he’d packed every possible example of his computer prowess was truly
deserving of appreciation. In a word, it was fantastic. I examined it with a combination of admiration and envy. I still had
a few accounts to settle with him. But it could wait.

One of the reasons I spend so little time at the club now is Cengiz. He moved in with me. Like so many people, he has to wake
up early to go to work, meaning he also has to go to bed at a reasonable time. If I spend my nights at the club, we won’t
have much time together. And there’s nothing better than nestling my head into Cengiz’s blond chest hairs as I fall asleep.

He tells me that I sometimes cry out in the middle of the night. When I do, he holds me tight and pulls my head close. I calm
down. We agree that I’ll require this kind of therapy into the indefinite future.

We plan to go to the cinema over the weekend with his children. He’ll introduce us for the first time. I’m already panicking
about what to wear.