Woman in the Fifth

‘You tried to set me up … tried to finger me as the killer as a way of deflecting attention from—’

He raised an index finger and said, ‘I would stop right there if I was you, monsieur. I dislike accusations.’

‘Even though you think nothing of making false accusations against other people.’

‘The police have nothing whatsoever on you—’

‘Except a motive — courtesy of you — and my fingerprints all over the toilet brush.’

‘Fear not. The evidence is weak.’

‘I’m their prime fucking suspect.’

‘There will be no problem — this I can assure you — as long as you do what you are told.’

‘By which you mean … ?’

‘You tell the police nothing about your work, no matter how hard they press you—’

‘I wouldn’t dream of—’

He raised his finger again to silence me. Why was everybody doing this?

‘And you also don’t do anything idiotic like try to run away.’

‘The cops have taken my passport.’

‘That has never stopped anybody from fleeing. False passports can be bought in this quartier for two hundred euros maximum.’

‘I’m going nowhere.’

‘I’m pleased to hear that. Because it would be very problematic for you if you did try to vanish. Not that we would allow you to vanish … unless, of course, you made us make you vanish.’

A small tight smile from Monsieur Sezer. I could feel the sweat cascading down my neck.

‘Do you understand what I am telling you, Monsieur Ricks?’ he asked.

I nodded.

‘Very good. Then if you understand that, you must also understand that your movements are known to us at all times. Continue with your life as it is — your bookshops, your movies, your cafes, your woman in the Fifth, your work at night — and, I assure you, there will be no problem. Try to make a run for it — head to some railway station or attempt to purchase false documents — and the response will be fast and brutal. Are we clear about that?’ I nodded again. He said, ‘I need to hear you say, “I understand.”’

‘I understand.’

‘Very good. I also want you to assure me that, if the police approach you again, you will inform me immediately about their line of questioning.’

‘You have my assurance,’ I said, sounding like a complete flunky. Though I wanted to add, If you’re so worried about me going to the cops, why the hell did you finger me as the prime suspect? But I knew the answer to that question: By putting me under suspicion, he could appease the police and also keep me in his control.

‘Then we are in complete understanding?’ he asked.

‘Yes,’ I said.

‘Excellent. One last thing: regarding that idiot you fucked — Yanna. I’m afraid that her husband has been informed of her infidelity with you. He has also been informed that you visited a walk-in medical clinic a few days ago and were diagnosed with a sexually transmitted disease—’

‘You asshole,’ I heard myself say.

‘Intemperate remarks like that cannot but upset me. And I do not like to be upset. Yes, Yanna’s husband will kill you … but only if we tell him to. He’s like Omar — stupid, bestial. But he also knows his place in the pecking order of things. So, once again, fear not: he won’t hurt you, unless ordered to.’

‘I don’t want trouble,’ I heard myself say.

‘Then you won’t have any … unless you make trouble. Good morning, Monsieur Ricks.’

He motioned to Mr Tough Guy, who tapped me on the shoulder and pointed toward the door. I exited through it and down the stairs. Though part of me wanted to hurry across the courtyard, out the door and down to the commissariat, I knew I’d just be playing into everybody’s hands if I did that. Sezer would find some way of providing definitive evidence that I murdered Omar, and the cops would happily buy it. As far as they were concerned, this case needed a denouement — and my conclusive guilt was it.

Think, think.

But all I could do right now was think about how tired I was, and how bed was the only logical place for me right now.

So I went to my room and drugged myself, as I knew sleep wouldn’t arrive without massive chemical help. I didn’t set the alarm. The next thing I knew there was a loud banging on my door.

‘American! … American!’ a familiar voice shouted.

It took me several moments to work out where I was, and to squint at my watch. Four thirty. Shit, shit, shit. I was due at Margit’s in thirty minutes.

‘American! … American!’

More banging.

I staggered out of bed, my head still fogged in, and opened the door. Mr Beard was standing outside, looking pissed off.

‘Where the fuck were you?’

‘What?’ I asked.

‘You always pick up your money at two thirty p.m. Today you’re not there …’

‘Overslept.’

‘You no oversleep again,’ he said, tossing my pay envelope on the floor. Then he turned and left.

I picked up the envelope. I went back inside. My grogginess had suddenly vanished, replaced by a deeper, unnerving realization: They really are following me now. Any moves out of the ordinary will be jumped upon in a nanosecond.

I forced myself into the shower. I was dressed and heading out the door ten minutes later. I turned around three times as I hurried toward the metro. No one there. But they were there. They knew my every move.

I was back on the street by five fifteen, hurrying down the rue de Paradis. I passed the joint which Yanna co-owned. I made the mistake of glancing in as I passed by. Yanna was behind the bar. Our eyes met — and immediately I could tell that something was very wrong. Within moments, she was out on the street, screaming at me. With good reason. Her face looked like it had come under extended assault. Both eyes were blackened, her lip had been split open in two places, there were gashes above her eyebrows, and her right cheek had turned an inky purple.

‘You stupid bastard,’ she shouted. ‘I follow your advice, I tell him what Omar did, and look what he does to me.

Starts telling me someone informed him you’d been fucking me too.’

‘I’m so sorry—’

‘Sorry? ‘ she shouted. ‘The bastard nearly killed me … and now he’s going to kill you. So much for your brilliant “plan”—’

‘You have to go to the police—’

‘And really end up dead? You understand nothing, American. Nothing. You better run away now. Far away. Otherwise you’ll end up dead. Like Omar.’

‘He killed Omar?’

‘Impossible. I didn’t tell him until the morning he got in. Omar was dead by then. But he knew about Omar’s death by the time he walked in here. Just as he also knew I’d been stupid enough to fuck you. That’s the part I can’t figure out … how he found out about us …’

Because Sezer must have called him in Turkey before his departure and told him. Maybe he also threw Omar into the mix, and Yanna’s husband made a phone call before boarding the plane and Omar received his mid-bowel movement tracheotomy that night.

‘… and why he hasn’t killed you yet.’

‘I’ll make myself scarce,’ I said.

‘Shit really follows you around, doesn’t it?’