Arabesk

'For yourself? Your own problems?'

'No.' Ìkmen took a cigarette from his packet and lit up. 'Basically something which may or may not be irrational has been bothering me. This thing, which may or may not have a bearing upon Inspector Suleyman's current investigations, could be absolutely irrelevant. But because I feel as I do, I must explore the issue. Do you understand?'

'Yes.'

Down below in the street, some of the shops were beginning to put their lights on, as much a signal to the coming night as the merciful drop in temperature.

'Dr Halman, do you know anything about devil worship? I don't mean your European burning witches type of thing, but the Turkish version of that’

'Oh, you mean like the concept of the night belonging to Shaitan, women who cast fortunes, sorcery, the djinn…'

'No, no,' Ìkmen said and then almost unconsciously dropping his voice, 'No, I mean the devil worshippers, the Yezidis. You as a foreigner, as it were, might have heard…'

'Oh, yes,' she said with a smile, 'you're right that people from this sect might be more willing to speak to me than to yourself. Not, of course,' she added with a twinkle in her eye, 'that I am telling you I have ever had a patient who is a Yezidi.'

'No.'

'No. All the identity cards of my patients have categorically stated their owner's religion as Islam, Judaism or Christianity. And that I can tell you with absolute honesty.'

Ìkmen leaned forward. 'But?'

'But first I need to know why you are interested in this subject,' she said. 'I mean, I know that you're a dreadful old sinner but membership of the Yezidi is only open to Kurds.'

Hearing the front door open and then close behind what sounded like a multitude of feet and voices, Ìkmen moved to shut the door to the balcony. 'Now, Zelfa,' he said as he walked back towards the table and sat down, 'you know that I can't disclose police business.'

'Yes, all right,' she said with a smile, 'but am I right m assuming that you won't use anything I tell you for the wrong reasons?'

'If you mean will I use your knowledge to do harm, then the answer is no. I merely wish to understand something that you who I know has studied our culture more extensively than most might be able to tell me.'

The balcony door swung open to admit a younger version of Ìkmen.

'We're back,' Sinan said with a grin and then seeing Dr Halman sitting beside his father he added, 'Oh, I'm sorry, Dad. I-'

'This is Dr Halman,' his father said as Zelfa rose to take the young man's hand. 'Dr Halman, this is my eldest son Dr Sinan Ìkmen.'

'Oh,' she said with interest as she took his warm hand in hers. 'A doctor of what, may I ask?'

'He's a dermatologist,' Ìkmen said with obvious pride in his voice. 'We're very proud of him.' Turning to his son, he said, 'Dr Halman is one of our leading psychiatrists, Sinan.'

‘Sinan's eyes shone. 'Oh, how interesting.' He moved to sit at the table with his father. 'May I?'

'Perhaps later,' Ìkmen said. 'Dr Halman and I are discussing-'

'Oh, right, it's work,' Sinan sighed. 'Although not too much work, I hope, Dad. You know what Dr Akkale-'

'Yes, yes, yes,' Ìkmen said wearily. 'Just give us a few minutes, will you, son?'

'As long as you don't wear yourself out'

'I promise I will control him,' Zelfa said with a smile, and as the young man moved towards the door she added, 'It was nice to meet you, Dr Ìkmen.'

'And you.' He shut the door behind him.

'You know that he could be part of your problem in relation to Bulent?' Zelfa said. She put her cigarette out in the ashtray and then lit up another.

Ìkmen frowned.

'Well, Sinan is bright, caring, obviously approved by yourself and your wife.'

'You mean Bulent might be jealous of Sinan?'

'I mean he might feel that because his brother is so successful, competing is pointless. It would explain at least some of his behaviour. Think about it'

'Mmm.'

'And I suppose that what with Orhan being at medical school too, and Cicek…'

'You have another son training to be a doctor also?' Zelfa Halman said, surprised.

'Yes.'

'If you don't mind my saying,' the doctor continued, 'I think that's quite an achievement for a humble police officer.'

Ìkmen laughed. 'If you mean am I on the take or…'

'No! No, no! I didn't mean to imply…' Instead of completing her sentence Zelfa Halman shrugged. 'No, I know you didn't mean to cause offence,' Ìkmen said with a conciliatory wave’ of his hand. 'And none is taken. But your point is a good one’ He sighed. 'And if I didn't have the admittedly small amount of money I inherited from my late father plus the considerable support I receive from my brother, well… Well, then perhaps I would be looking at, shall we say, other options. But…' He smiled, the doctor thought a little sadly and then suddenly and far more cheerfully changed tack. 'So, Zelfa, Yezidis…'

She took in a deep lungful of smoke and then let it out slowly as she spoke. 'In order to understand the Yezidis you have to throw out any Christeo-Islamic notions about Shaitan. According to the Yezidi credo, Shaitan did indeed fall from the grace of God, but unlike in our religions he was restored to favour. And, once elevated, he became and remains God's right-hand angel. I've heard that contrary to popular belief they are very peaceful and do not make human sacrifice, but quite how they do worship I don't know. But I'm aware of the fact that they are misunderstood, persecuted and that they sometimes go to great lengths to conceal their true identities.'

'I know they have-dietary laws,' Ìkmen said. 'Is it true they don't eat chicken?'

Zelfa Halman made a wry face. 'Not entirely. They refrain from eating the cock bird out of respect for the peacock angel.'

'The peacock angel?'

'It's what they call Shaitan. I have no idea why.

They have a thing about beans, lettuce and the colour blue for similar reasons. They prefer to avoid them.'

'Mmm.' Ìkmen's face achieved a new gravity as he spoke. 'And so this avoiding cock flesh, would they go to some lengths to prevent, say, their children from eating it? Would they perhaps risk disclosure in order to do so?'

'They might. If they were very religious.' 'Mmm.'

Zelfa Halman leaned back in her chair and looked hard at Ìkmen. 'You intimated that this might have some sort of connection to Suleyman's case. And knowing that Erol Urfa and Tansu Hanim are both Kurdish

‘I wouldn't even start that particular theoretical journey if I were you,’ Ìkmen said sternly. 'We are, as I trust you can appreciate, not having this conversation.’

She shrugged. 'OK.'

The noise of bickering children floated through from the living room, Ìkmen banged hard on the window before continuing.

'So do you know anything else about these people?'

'As you are probably aware, those unwise enough to declare themselves Yezidi receive an X in the space where their religion should be stated on their ID cards. Consequently I don't suppose your lot see many of them.'

'I don't think I ever have,' Ìkmen said.

Zelfa smiled knowingly. 'Precisely,' she said. 'Not that so many of them live here in the city. They come from the east, as you probably know. The headquarters of the religion is actually in Iraq.' 'Oh?'

'Yes. Some shrine which is guarded, apparently, by a eunuch.' She smiled. 'How exotic can you get, eh?'

But Ìkmen did not immediately answer her. His mind, which had until now been filled with the images of small children refusing chicken was now flooded with the words that Ìsak Çöktin had uttered to him only a few hours before. Words about eunuchs – words the young Kurd appeared to have quickly regretted. Despite the heat of the evening, Ìkmen started to experience a cold feeling in his guts. Whether all of this Yezidi stuff had any direct bearing upon Ruya Urfa's death, he didn't know. But little things, like Erol's fear that his daughter might be exposed to chicken, like the rather timely departure of one of his friends in the wake of an identity card request, like Çöktin's reported concern for Urfa, did seem to be at least pointing towards some sort of concealment. But was it, especially in light of the fact that Cengiz Temiz was still very much on the scene, pertinent? To open up such a contentious issue without pertinence was surely an act of madness. And anyway, hadn't Suleyman been totally satisfied with what was written on Urfa's ID card?