Ikmen 16 - Body Count (34 page)

‘Oh.’

He shook his head. ‘And the sort of people, I am told, who want to rebuild Tarlaba
ş
ı
want people like that to rule over us again. I despair.’

Hatice got as far away from Selçuk as she could to make her phone call. She went to the spare bedroom overlooking the now darkened back garden. But it wasn’t far enough.

‘Don’t call him.’

She pressed the end call button on her phone and turned around to confront her husband. ‘Who?’

‘You know,’ Selçuk Devrim said. ‘Don’t make me have to say his hated name, Hatice.’

‘Whose hated name? I don’t know what you mean.’ But she felt her face go red as she spoke, and she knew that he knew with every centimetre of her flesh. But how?

‘Cem Atay,’ he said. ‘That was who the policewoman was talking to you about in the kitchen, wasn’t it? Cem Atay. Your lover.’

‘No!’

‘I heard you,’ he said. ‘I left the young man in the living room with Levent’s effects and came to get more coffee. But I heard what you were talking about and so I just listened outside until I couldn’t take it any more.’

She looked into his eyes and saw that they were wet.

‘I was so touched to hear that you don’t want to hurt me,’ he said bitterly.

She moved towards him. ‘Selçuk …’

He retreated from her. ‘Don’t come near me! While you were just screwing your hot, famous old tutor I could just about cope with it. But when I had to stand there and listen to you talk about how you loved him …’

She realised the import of what he’d just said. ‘You knew? Before today?’

‘Of course I did.’

‘But …’

‘How?’ He shook his head. ‘Well even if I could have persuaded myself to ignore the stolen phone calls that you habitually made, even if I could forgive your lack of interest in our sex life, when I was told, it all became a bit unavoidable for me.’

‘Told! Who told you?’

‘Who do you think?’ he said.

She sat down on the spare bed and with a shaking hand put her phone into the pocket of her jeans.

He leaned towards her and said, ‘Levent. My brother.’

Suzan was sweating. She had to keep focused. What she took had to be small enough for her to carry and able to be resold easily. She looked around the shining metallic halls dotted with chandeliers that made up the Vakko department store and made her decision. She’d have to take jewellery. Anything else would be too bulky and wouldn’t make her enough money. Good jewellery on the other hand was something she could give to her father to sell. There were always men who wanted to buy gold and diamonds for their wives or their daughters or their mistresses.

The problem that Suzan had was that the really expensive items were displayed in large glass cases that couldn’t be opened from in front of the counter. It meant that if she was to have any chance of stealing anything, she had to ask the shop assistant to get the items out of the cases for her to look at. Only then could she try to take something. And as well as shop assistants and security guards, there were cameras everywhere. Suzan looked at herself in a small mirror over by the costume jewellery earrings. She wasn’t the only woman in the store who was wearing a headscarf, but she was the only one who was not wearing make-up and whose clothes had been darned. Even women who looked as if they too could be domestic servants were smarter than her. And people were looking at her. She was about to give up and go back to the apartment empty-handed when something caught her eye.

A woman, probably somewhere in late middle age, all powdered face and fake blonde hair, had just bought something from the jewellery counter and had put it in her handbag. So casual was she about a purchase that Suzan couldn’t imagine would have cost her anything less than a thousand lira that she didn’t even bother to zip up her handbag after she’d put the jewellery box inside it. Suzan could see the little box even from where she stood, which was five or six metres away. To say that it was too easy was overstating the case, but it was easy enough that for a moment Suzan wondered whether the woman was some sort of security operative tasked with flushing out shoplifters. But there was only one day left before she had to leave the city and go home, and this was probably her last chance to make her father proud of her. She just had to do it.

She walked towards the counter just as the woman began to talk to another middle-aged lady who had come up beside her, distracting her completely. Suzan couldn’t help but feel that her luck was in. Passing slowly in front of the woman’s handbag, she looked over at some strings of multicoloured pearls on a tall, slim display stand. At the same time, her hand slid into the bag and, without disturbing anything but the jewellery box, she began to draw it out towards her own tattered handbag.

When she first felt the weight of something heavy on her arm, she did think that maybe the tension involved in bag-diving had caused her to wrench an already stiffened shoulder. But then she saw that a man had come alongside her, and when he said, ‘Can I see what you’ve just put in your handbag, please, miss?’ Suzan felt her heart sink through Vakko’s highly polished marble floor.

Çetin
İ
kmen knocked on Mehmet Süleyman’s office door. When the younger man said, ‘Come,’ he let himself in. Both men had tired very quickly of being in the investigative operation room and had retreated back to their respective offices. As he entered,
İ
kmen said, ‘I’ve got news.’

‘Oh?’

The older man carried a sheaf of papers underneath one arm and Süleyman thought this was what he had come to show him. He held out his hand. ‘Let me see,’ he said.

But
İ
kmen shook his head. ‘Not these. No. I’ve just heard from Dr Sarkissian about the DNA test on the burning man of Aksaray.’

‘Ah.’ Süleyman nodded. ‘And?’

‘It is indeed
Ş
ukru
Ş
ekero
ğ
lu,’
İ
kmen said.

‘Oh.’ Süleyman looked down, probably,
İ
kmen thought, wondering how he was going to tell the man’s sister.

‘And there’s something else,’
İ
kmen said. ‘The doctor found large quantities of a benzodiazepine tranquilliser in the body.’

‘Enough to kill him?’

‘He’s not sure,’
İ
kmen said. ‘He’s not entirely sure that it
can
kill. The body, as you saw, is very badly degraded. But Dr Sarkissian is of the opinion that the actual cause of death was strangulation. My guess is that he was somehow disabled by the tranquilliser first and then murdered.’

‘Unless he was already taking benzodiazepine, although I find that notion bizarre to say the least.’

‘Because he was such a confident man? Mehmet, if our super-smooth Professor Atay has dabbled in diazepam, then anyone can.’

‘I don’t know whether confident is the right word,’ Süleyman said. ‘
Ş
ukru was afraid of no one and nothing. But whether he possessed actual confidence I don’t know. He was a wrestler until he put his back out, then a dancing bear man until dancing bears became illegal. Then I think he lost his way.’

‘Do you want me to tell the family?’
İ
kmen asked.

‘No,’ Süleyman said. ‘Gonca knows anyway. Via the cards, the coffee grounds …’

‘Ah, ancient wisdom,’
İ
kmen said. ‘It worked for Mother and it’s worked for me, as you know. But then I’m not alone in believing that ancient systems can be useful.’

‘And yet you don’t believe in homeopathy?’

İ
kmen shook his head. ‘That’s a relatively modern construct,’ he said. ‘No, I’m talking about things like herbalism, which is the precursor to modern medicine.’

‘But you’re also talking about what some would call magic.’

‘Yes, because we don’t yet understand how our brains work,’
İ
kmen said. ‘When we do, maybe things like precognition won’t seem magical to us any more. But don’t take my word for it, Mehmet. Greater minds than mine believe that you can’t discount the beliefs and technologies of the ancients. Professor Atay is of the opinion that many of the South American civilisations he studied for his latest book, including the Maya, possessed knowledge the rest of us have discounted to our cost. Have you ever watched any of Professor Atay’s television programmes?’

‘No.’

‘I thought you’d find that sort of thing interesting.’

‘No,’ he said. ‘If I want relics of the Ottoman Empire, all I have to do is go home. But the subject of television reminds me: Gonca’s brother was in a documentary about Sulukule about ten years ago. Her father would like a copy of it. She called the production company but they weren’t very helpful and she lost her temper …’ He raised his eyebrows. ‘If we could find out who directed it, or if anyone remembers it …’

İ
kmen shook his head. ‘Those sorts of social justice shows tend to be on in the middle of the night,’ he said. ‘I don’t recall it at all. Why don’t you phone up the production company and ask them; they should talk to you.’

‘True.’

İ
kmen frowned and opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by his telephone.

The girl shook. When she looked at the bag they’d put on the table in front of her, her bag, she cried.

Where Mehmet Süleyman looked at her with contempt in his eyes, Çetin
İ
kmen viewed her with kindness. He even smiled. ‘Well, Suzan,’ he said, ‘I can understand the diamond earrings. I’ve got that you tried to steal them from a Mrs Günel. It’s the five thousand lira that puzzles me. Where did you get it and why were you carrying it about with you in your handbag?’

Suzan didn’t say anything.

İ
kmen reached across to Süleyman, who gave him a large transparent evidence bag full of banknotes. ‘And all nice crisp new notes too,’
İ
kmen said. ‘Tell me, Suzan, had you just been to the bank?’

She began crying again and Süleyman rolled his eyes in frustration.

‘Now, now, Inspector,’
İ
kmen said to him, ‘the young lady is upset. We must exercise patience.’

‘She’s a thief,’ Süleyman said. ‘Why should we? She tried to steal those earrings. We know that. The money’s probably stolen too. She deserves no special treatment.’

‘Even though she’s just lost her beloved master?’
İ
kmen said. ‘Oh, Inspector, I think you’re being a little harsh.’

Ay
ş
e Farsako
ğ
lu, who had seen the good cop/bad cop routine many times before and employed by many different officers, watched the girl as she sobbed. She noticed that every time Süleyman spoke, Suzan tensed.

‘I don’t see what you hope to achieve here, Inspector,’ Süleyman said to
İ
kmen. ‘We can get where she purloined this money out of her very easily.’ He turned to Suzan. ‘I was kind to you when Abdurrahman Efendi died, but not any more! Tell us where you got the money!’

İ
kmen shook his head impatiently, then said softly, ‘Suzan, tell me, do you have a bank account?’

She looked up, and for a moment Ay
ş
e Farsako
ğ
lu thought the girl was about to speak, but then she just burst into tears again.

Apparently exasperated, Süleyman threw his hands in the air and stood up. ‘I’m sick of this!’ he said. ‘Do what you like, Inspector
İ
kmen, I need some fresh air and a cigarette before I can even think about continuing with this thief!’ And attracting the attention of the constable outside the interview room door, he left.

İ
kmen leaned across the table. ‘Now listen, Suzan,’ he said. ‘You need to talk to me before he comes back. Inspector Süleyman can be a very nice man, but he lacks patience and he can sometimes override my decisions. Now please tell me where this money came from.’

For a moment neither Ay
ş
e Farsako
ğ
lu nor Çetin
İ
kmen thought the girl was going to speak, then she raised her head and said, ‘The money’s mine.’

‘Good.’
İ
kmen smiled. ‘So did you take it out of your bank account?’

‘No.’

‘Where did you get it?’

‘I earned it.’

‘What, your wages from Abdurrahman Efendi?’

She paused for a long time before she replied. ‘Yes.’

İ
kmen looked across at his sergeant, who said nothing. He leaned towards the girl. ‘Ah, but that isn’t true, is it, Suzan?’

She turned her face away. ‘It is.’

‘No it isn’t,’
İ
kmen said.

‘Why not?’ This time she faced him. ‘Why isn’t it true?’

‘Apart from the fact that I doubt that was even your annual salary? Are you telling me that you saved five thousand lira, Suzan?’

She didn’t say anything.

‘And why, if indeed those were your savings, were you carrying them around with you in your handbag?’

This time she answered immediately. ‘Because if I left it in the apartment then someone might break in and steal it,’ she said.

‘So no worries about being mugged on the street, then?’
İ
kmen said.

‘Nobody knew I had it with me.’

‘Nobody knew it was in the apartment,’
İ
kmen said. Then he leaned back in his chair and added, ‘Or did they?’

And for the first time since Süleyman had left the room, Ay
ş
e Farsako
ğ
lu saw real fear in the girl’s eyes.

‘Levent had already told him,’ Hatice Devrim said.

Cem Atay sat down beside her and said, ‘So why didn’t Selçuk say anything to you before? Why wait until now?’

He was so calm, it was infuriating. ‘Because of the police!’ she said. ‘That policewoman had been to see me before, when I told her you were with me the night that Leyla Ablak was killed. Then when she turned up at the house, what could I do? I couldn’t suddenly lie about our relationship.’

‘Yes, but what has that got to do with Selçuk?’

‘He overheard me speaking to the policewoman,’ she said.