Arabesk

Suleyman frowned. 'Flowers, sir?'

'Yes, I sent them to thank you for getting Merih back for me. Roses.'

'Well,' Suleyman said as he held the door of his office open for his guest, ‘that is very kind of you, but I don't know of any flowers arriving.'

'Oh. Oh, then I must contact the florist.'

'Well, yes, but…' Suleyman sat down heavily behind his desk, indicating that Erol should sit too. 'If they have not been sent then please, with respect, retrieve your money and do not do this again.'

'Eh?'

'I'm afraid that in the context of my job they may be seen as a bribe, sir. It's very nice of you and I'm very sorry, but I fear that is how it is.'

'Oh.' Erol looked down at the floor, his expression one that Suleyman imagined he must have employed to some effect as a child. 'Oh, I'm sorry, Inspector. I-'

'There is no need to apologise, Mr Urfa,' Suleyman said. He opened up one of his files and took hold of a pen. 'Now, I know that you have already given a statement regarding the discovery of your wife's body and the events leading up to that, but I do have to ask you certain other questions, which is why you are here today.'

'Yes, I understand.' Putting both of his hands onto the edge of Suleyman's desk, again in a childlike gesture, he said, 'Will I be able to take Ruya home soon, Inspector?'

'That is up to our pathologist, Mr Urfa.' He smiled a little sadly. 'I don't think it will be long. I suppose your family are anxious to see her properly buried.'

'Oh, they don't know,' Erol said as he nervously clicked his thumbs one against the other on the edge of the desk.

Suleyman frowned. 'You mean you haven't telephoned-'

'They don't have a telephone. Or a television.'

Although Suleyman knew that Erol originated from somewhere 'out east' he had not realised until now just how 'east' that was. Even crazy border towns like Dogubayazit had telephones and televisions. Some of the villages could still be without, although he thought that was doubtful, Ikmen, or rather Cetin as he was now, had seen satellite dishes as far east as Kayseri on his quick trip to see some old relative in Cappadocia the previous year. The completely no technology family was becoming an oddity.

'So how,' he asked, 'do you communicate with your relatives? Do you write?'

'My parents, like Ruya, can't write,' was the simple reply.

'So…'

'We don't communicate, Inspector.'

Suleyman offered Erol a cigarette and when the latter refused, took one himself and lit up. 'But forgive me, sir, if you do not communicate then how did your wife come to arrive in the city? How did your marriage take place?'

'I married Ruya in my village. We were betrothed.' 'So have you been back since? Did your wife ever visit her family?'

'No and no,' Erol smiled. 'It's complicated.'

It sounded, Suleyman thought, like one of those feud situations that sometimes occurred. One family or member of one family against another group or tribe. Not that that particular interpretation made any sense in this context. Urfa had gone home in order to marry his betrothed which not only implied an amicable union between two families but also a willingness on the singer's part to participate.

Suleyman leaned back in his chair. 'So do your family follow your career, Mr Urfa? Are they keen?'

'No,' and then before Suleyman could ask any more questions he said, 'Why all the inquiries about my family, Inspector?'

'When a person dies in suspicious circumstances we are obliged to explore every eventuality.'

'I said in my statement that my wife had no enemies I was aware of,' Erol said with just a slight edge to his voice.

'Yes, although I can't help feeling that Tansu-'

'Tansu has always accepted the situation with Ruya.'

'You did, I believe, marry your wife after you met Tansu Hamm. Is that correct?'

Erol moved his hands down into his lap and looked at the floor. 'Yes.'

A brief hiatus followed during which the elderly cayci came in and placed large glasses of tea on Suleyman's desk.

As he gently plopped two small sugar cubes into his tea, Suleyman began his questioning once again. 'Forgive me if I am wrong,' he said, 'but I cannot imagine that a lady like Tansu Hanim would be happy about the idea of her new young lover, er, sleeping with another woman’

'Things are different where we come from!' The look on Erol's face now was both bitter and deeply offended. With a dramatic flick of the wrist, he pushed his tea violently to one side. Suleyman, to the singer's obvious annoyance, did not react.

'Indeed,' he said. 'So tell me about that.'

'A man must produce children.'

'Yes.' Unbeknown to Erol, Suleyman was in a not dissimilar position, or at least he had been until Zelfa had stormed out in the wake of her anger over Cengiz Temiz. Not, he imagined, in the same league as this country boy, however…To men from his part of the world, children were utterly crucial, whereas to him, well, he still wasn't quite sure how he felt about babies. His brother had one who was completely charming but then Suleyman himself did not have to get up in the night to attend to her so what did he know? 'So your need for children plus your honourable fulfilment of your betrothal forced you into marriage?'

'No. I did love Ruya.' He turned his head to one side, his eyes now brimming with tears. 'It's…'

'A man may love more than one woman?'

Erol nodded. 'Yes.'

Outside in the street the sound of heavy tourist buses bouncing over the tram lines mingled harshly with the cries of street vendors and the heaviness of the thick, summer heat Suleyman was feeling, if not looking, very soporific. In an attempt to rouse himself, he pulled himself up straight in his chair and then sipped determinedly at his tea.

'Mr Aksoy was not I take it, too happy about your marriage’ he said as he put his cigarette out in one of the ashtrays.

'No. He said it would be bad for my image’ the singer replied as if reading the words he spoke from a book or autocue. 'But I did it anyway’

'Was it Mr Aksoy's idea to keep your marriage a secret?'

'Ibrahim has always presented me as a star for the young girls, you know?'

Suleyman muttered his agreement to this self-evident fact.

Erol shrugged. 'So marriage would not be good publicity. But then I didn't want a lot of people to know either.'

'Why?'

'Because it is important to keep your private life to yourself.'

'You don't do that with Tansu Hanim though, do you?'

'No.' Like a rather harshly scolded schoolboy, Erol looked down at the floor, his bottom lip quivering slightly with pique. 'But Tansu is different, you know? It started with her to help my career. Ibrahim introduced us.' And then looking up sharply, he added, 'But I do love her now, you know. She is a wonderful lady, Tansu. I know that some people laugh and say bad things, especially now. But I will not desert Tansu. I will do right by Ruya, but…'

'But you will stay with Tansu, possibly eventually marry.'

'Oh, no.' Erol was adamant. 'I will marry another woman from my village. I must have a son.'

'But you've just said that you will stay with Tansu Hanim.'

'Yes.'

'So it will be as before with…'

'Oh yes,' Erol said with-what to Suleyman seemed like staggering simplicity. 'Do you have any idea who killed Ruya yet, Inspector?'