– 'Right' Ikmen paused for a few moments before carrying on, as if absorbing what had already been said. 'So let us assume that the devil woman does indeed exist' 'Right'
'She looks like Tansu Hanim, wears clothes like her, and Tansu, let's face it, has a very good motive.'
'Yes,' Suleyman said, 'except that Erol told me that even with Ruya dead, he would not and could not marry Tansu. He will, he says, marry another woman from his village. He wants more children.'
Ikmen's eyes narrowed a little. 'Mmm. Indeed. Not one he is betrothed to, though. Must be quite some tight little community he comes from. Any idea where?'
'Out east1 Suleyman replied. 'I could find but I suppose.'
'Yes, that might be a good idea.'
Ikmen knew full well that Suleyman was far from convinced with regard to his theories about Erol Urfa's beliefs but this piece of information, which seemed to point towards a very closed and old-fashioned community life, only served to heighten his own interest But if Tansu knew about Erol – which, given the content of her songs, seemed to be so -she would also know that murdering Ruya Urfa would do her personally no good at all. 'Unless of course,' he said out loud, 'it is not Tansu who writes her songs but another member of her entourage.'
Suleyman, who had not been privy to Ikmen's thoughts, looked confused. 'What do you mean?'
'I mean that if Tansu did write her own bitter songs, it indicates that she knows that Erol is a Yezidi.'
'Oh, not this again!'
Ikmen held up a hand. 'No, hear me out' he said, 'please. If Tansu wrote those songs, it could be that she knew he was a member of the sect which would mean she would know she could never marry him. Motive gone. But if, as I feel, she is not a very literate woman, she could have got someone else to write her songs for her. Someone who, possibly, got to know about Eroi's origins.'
'Or someone who just has a particular liking for peacocks,' Suleyman said acidly.
'Well, yes, but-'
'What you're saying is,' Suleyman interrupted, 'if someone else wrote those songs, Tansu's motive still stands. But without a positive ID from Cengiz Temiz
'We arrive back at her oh so similar sister yet again.'
'Who has no obvious limp and no coherent motive that I can see,' Suleyman reminded him.
'Unless it was to free Erol for her sister. They are all awfully close, aren't they, the Emins? I mean, Tansu keeps them all in some style, doesn't she?'
'Yes. But if we assume that Latife did kill Ruya in order to free Erol for her sister, then she, at least, could not, following your reasoning, have written Tansu's songs. Assuming of cou rse, as I do not, that this Yezidi thing means anything at all.'
Ikmen smiled. 'You know what this case is like, don't you, Mehmet?'
'A nightmare?' He shrugged. 'The one where I fail spectacularly and have to take a taxi-driving job?'
'No,' Ikmen said as he removed a cigarette from his packet and placed it in his mouth. 'It is an arabesque.'
'Well, it's about those involved in Arabesk, yes.'
'No, not the music Arabesk, but the form,' Ikmen said with a decided twinkle in his eye. 'Arabesque as in a complicated pattern of either form or calligraphy designed by the Arabs and then refined by our ancestors. Art without the human or animal form which, as we know, only Allah may create or destroy. You must know what I mean, surely!'
'Well, yes,' Suleyman said, 'although the connection did not occur to me until you mentioned it. Some arabesques are positively maze-like, aren't they?'
'It is said that the rooftops of Saa'na in the Yemen almost seem to move with the proliferation of fiendishly complex mazes.' A moment of silence passed between them and then he said, 'So what are you going to do about your maze then, Mehmet?'
But before Suleyman could answer, there was a knock at the door.
The familiar features of Isak Coktin appeared within the office. 'I've written that report you wanted about the cyanide, sir’ he said as he placed a sheaf of papers onto Suleyman's desk. 'Thank you.'
'I did also ask Miss Latife Emin about their gardener’ Coktin continued.
'Oh?' Suleyman said, looking up now with interest 'And?'
'Well, he's called Resat he does quite a few of the big gardens in and around Yenikoy’
Suleyman smiled. 'Including, I think we will find, that of a Mr and Mrs Ertiirk,' he said with some satisfaction. 'For if this Resat is indeed the same as Erturk's man, then I know for a fact that he uses cyanide to kill their rats.'
'How do you know all this, Mehmet?' Ikmen asked, really quite amazed at the younger man's sudden insights.
'It is a long story involving two deranged young women.'
'Oh?'
'Which I really don't have time to go into now.' As he spoke he shuffled once again through the file on his desk until he eventually found a small scrap of paper. He handed it to Coktin. 'This is the telephone number of a Mr Kemal Erturk’ he said, 'which I would like you to call in order to get hold of some details about where this Resat lives. I think we may need to speak to him very soon’
^Yes, sir.' Coktin took the paper over to his desk and dialled the number on his telephone extension.
Until somebody answered Coktin, neither Ikmen nor Suleyman spoke. As soon as he got through, all that changed.
Lowering his voice in order not to disturb Coktin's conversation, Ikmen said to Suleyman, 'I have the feeling, or rather I gained the distinct impression downstairs, that Tansu Hanim knows who the culprit might be. She realised when she saw Cengiz do his limping impression.'
Suleyman sat and digested this until the click of a replaced telephone signalled the end of Coktin's conversation.
'Resat lives in Besiktas 22/3 Misir Bahce,' he said, looking at the piece of paper in his hand. 'Do you want me to go out there, sir?'
'No.' Suleyman leaned back in his chair and lit a cigarette. ‘I would like you and Tepe to perform some discreet observations regarding the comings and goings to and from Tansu Hanim's house.'
'Oh, but I thought that she-'
'Yes, Mickey Coktin,' Ikmen said with a smile, 'Tansu and all her retinue have indeed departed from this place, but we still have some doubts and so it would be as well for you and Tepe to remain vigilant'
'And I want to know everything,' Suleyman added sternly, 'including when Erol makes an appearance.'
'Oh, but that's not likely to happen now, sir,' Coktin said before he had really thought his words through.
Suleyman frowned. 'Oh? And why not?'
Coktin knew that his face was bright red. He also knew that he had to say something fast in order to save himself. If Suleyman suspected that he'd been talking to Erol, well, it didn't bear thinking about. 'Well, er, I thought it was common knowledge,' he said falteringly.
'Oh?' Suleyman reiterated suspiciously. 'And this knowledge comes from?'
'Oh, gossip in the bazaars, you know,' Coktin said with a nervous laugh. 'Shall I go and get Tepe and-'
'If I find that you have been talking to Erol, you know that disciplinary procedure will follow, don't you?' Suleyman said gravely.
'Yes.'
Suleyman looked Coktin deep in the eyes for just a second and then said, 'Off you go then.'
'Right.'And with that he left.
When Ikmen could be certain that Coktin was out of earshot he said, 'Do you believe him?'
'Not in the slightest.'
Ikmen shook his head. 'It's a shame, he's a good man.'
'Who has changed considerably since being in contact with Erol Urfa.'
'Well, it could well be as I said,' Ikmen expounded.
'They could well be brothers in religion. He's never been like this about any other Kurdish suspect.'
'Yes, well,' Suleyman rose to his feet and put his cigarette out in the ashtray. 'But now I must go out and speak to this Resat.'
