Arabesk

'I don't want Erol to know,' she reiterated urgently. 'You won't tell him, will you?'

'Whether or not this information becomes public depends largely upon what bearing it has upon Mrs Urfa's murder. Now, Miss Emin, are we going to work together or not?'

Tansu's shoulders heaved upwards in a resigned little shrug. Her silicone-nlled breasts, Ìkmen silently observed, stayed exactly where they were.

'Erol and I had argued,' the singer began, 'in the afternoon.'

'What about?'

She sighed. 'About him going off to his friends to see the football and then spending all of the next day with her.'

'With his wife.'

'Yes. I'll be honest, I hated Ruya Urfa and I wasn't sorry when she died, but,' she looked up at the policemen with what could have been a straight and honest face, 'I didn't kill her. After I argued with Erol, I had a little too much to drink and in that state I started to think about…' she suddenly looked away, her face a little red now, 'about myself and my life and, well, I decided as the evening went on that what I should do is go out' She looked up at them again. 'And so I did.'

'Where did you go?' Suleyman asked.

'I drove around. I thought a lot about what I had given to Erol and I felt bitter.'

Suleyman looked at Ìkmen who refrained from catching his colleague's eye. If Tansu had given so much to Erol, it certainly wasn't on one-way traffic.

Tansu straightened her shoulders. 'And then, Allah forgive me, I parked up by Istiklal Caddesi, had a few more drinks and found a boy.'

Adnan Öz frowned down at the floor and then cleared his throat

'And who was this boy?' Ìkmen asked as he attempted to wrest his eyes from the livid colour of Mr Öz's cheeks.

The singer laughed, a rough, smoke-scarred rattle. 'How should I know!' she said. 'Such meetings don't involve an exchange of personal details. Besides, I'd had a few drinks as I said and so even if he did tell me his name, I wouldn't remember.'

'Do you know what he looked like? Was he in uniform or

'He was twenty something, I suppose, and pretty. What more can I say? We shared a few drinks, he put his arm around me…'

'Did he know who you were?' Ìkmen asked. 'If you can remember, that is? I mean your face is not exactly unknown, is it?'

She laughed again but this time with even less good humour than before. ‘Oh, come on!' she said as she pointed with both hands at her face. 'Does this look like the photographs in the newspapers or what?'

'Well, er…'

'I know you all think that I'm some dreadful plastic doll sort of woman, and I admit I am.' Her facial expression turned from bitter to grave.- 'Even I know I am not like that air-brushed odalisque in the magazines. No amount of surgery can possibly take away all the lines and creases. I always wear dark glasses…'

'Were you wearing your fur coat?' Suleyman asked.

'One of them. But I left it in the car.'

'Where did you meet this boy?'

'In a bar. I don't remember which. Some place off istiklal.' She looked straight at both of the policemen, 'And yes, I know I must have been close to Erol's apartment, but… Anyway, the boy and I eventually left and…' She hung her head in what looked like shame.

'Did you take him home or did you go back to his place?' Ìkmen inquired. 'It's important we know.'

A moment of stony silence passed during which Adnan Öz looked around the squalid room for something upon which to pin his attention.

'He took me down a side street to a shop doorway,' Tansu said softly. 'I pulled up my skirt…'

'You had sex in the street'

She shrugged. 'It's not something that I do every day but when I first came to this city I did things like it from time to time, to survive.' She smiled. 'For just a moment it was almost like being young again.'

Suleyman sighed. 'And afterwards?'

The smile still on her lips, she said, 'Afterwards he left as men always do and I went home. I drove with a lot of alcohol in my body, I freely admit but I did nothing else. I didn't murder anyone.'

Ìkmen nodded gravely as he looked at Suleyman and a few moments of silence passed as everyone in the room absorbed Tansu's story. Then picking up his pen from the table, Suleyman jotted down a few notes on the piece of paper in front of him. 'So,' he said, 'you're saying you went to an unnamed bar where you met a boy whose name you don't know.'

'Yes.'

'Did you tell any member of your family you were going to go and do this?'

She threw him a distincdy acid look. 'What do you think? I told my sister afterwards, in the morning. I felt so guilty that I had betrayed Erol, I had to tell someone.'

'Your story is not going to be easy to substantiate, Miss Emin,' Suleyman said gravely.

'Ah, but I am sure that with a little research…’ Adnan Öz began.

'Assuming Miss Emin is telling the truth.'

‘I fucking am!'

The re-emergence of this rather more familiar incarnation of Tansu Hanim made Ìkmen, at least, smile. The part she had been playing of the softly contrite, damaged woman had suddenly slipped and although he accepted that this was not in itself a sign of guilt, it was far more a part of her real character than any other facet she had shown them here. But what of her story? Although all of Tansu's movements and associations on that fateful night were effectively, and some would say conveniently, anonymous, she might well be telling the truth. She was, after all, a very unhappy middle-aged woman who was besotted by a much younger, married man. Why shouldn't she have a quick fuck up against a wall if she could get one? The only real connection that could be made between Tansu and the scene of the crime was a few stray strands of fur – not an uncommon item in the wardrobes of Istanbul ladies (excepting Fatma, of course). And Cengiz Temiz had not managed to identify her from her photograph. But then

Ah. Ìkmen smiled still more broadly. Yes, now that was a thought, wasn't it? And most especially it was a thought that Tansu herself had inspired.

'May I have a word with you outside, please, Inspector?' he said to Suleyman.

Two uniformed officers sat with Tansu and her lawyer while Ìkmen and Suleyman repaired to another room which appeared to be empty but in fact contained a rather heavily smoking Ìsak Çöktin. Standing as his superiors entered, Çöktin looked unusually tense, leading Suleyman to wonder whether he had been overly severe with him. Not, of course, that he said as much.

'Ah, Çöktin,' he said. 'How did you get on at the Forensic Institute?'

'I found out that cyanide is used in the steel industry.' He took his notebook out of his pocket and read,

'Hydrocyanic acid, it's called. You can also distil cyanide from the stone of some fruits, but you do need special equipment'

‘I presume laboratory equipment or that used in the production of liquor,' Suleyman said as he gave Ìkmen a cigarette and lit up himself.

'Yes.' Çöktin perused his book for a little longer and then said, 'Domestically it's used to kill pests mainly. Rats and wasps, things like that'

'Mmm.' Suleyman looked up at Ìkmen. 'Bellas said that the Emin family have a gardener, didn't she?'

'Yes. Why?'

'I seem to recall something about wasps. Anyway, you wanted to talk to me, Çetin?'

Ìkmen looked first, briefly, at Cektin and then back at Suleyman.

'Ah,' Suleyman said, understanding immediately, 'yes. Çöktin, could you write me a full report on your researches at the institute, please? It may prove useful in time. Oh, and you might like to ask Miss Latife Emin the name of her gardener too. You'll find her outside with Tansu Hanim's manager and, I think, her brother.'

'Yes, sir.'

He left in the same manner as they had found him, miserably contemplating something other than the task at hand, Ìkmen and Suleyman, with some concern, watched him go.

When Çöktin had shut the door behind him, Ìkmen observed, 'He's very unhappy; isn't he?'

'Yes.' Suleyman sighed 'My little speech about not getting too close to Urfa did not go down very well.' 'Mmm.'