The Kiss Murder (6 page)
“Of course I know she was called Buse. I only said Fevzi because you had,” I explained.
“Well, don’t. It’s disrespect toward the deceased.”
I had grown used to Gönül’s attempt to sound refined, which she tried to achieve by replacing all her
a
’s with
e
’s. But it still took a brief moment to figure out what she was saying.
a
’s with
e
’s. But it still took a brief moment to figure out what she was saying.
The final syllable of each word was drawn out, singsong. The end of each sentence was marked by the lifting of a single shoulder, toward which she would rotate her head. The head toss was accompanied by what she believed to be a highly significant stare, delivered through narrowed eyes toward the raised shoulder. Upon hearing my voice, she would once again look directly at me, and the shoulder would sink back down. Undoubtedly, the move had been rehearsed repeatedly in front of the mirror for an appreciative audience of one. There is also no doubt that it worked its magic among the louts at less sophisticated beer houses.
“Fine, then,” I said. “Now let’s go to Sabiha Hanım’s house. I just can’t remember where it is . . .”
“What does everyone want with that poor blind woman? Just a few minutes ago there were a bunch of ruffians here asking where she lived.” Alarm. Alarm! Red alert! So I wasn’t the only person who’d come here to extract information.
“What did you tell them?”
“They didn’t ask me,” she said. “I suppose I wasn’t their type. They talked to everyone but me. It wasn’t so crowded then. Just look around now though, this place is crawling with trannies. It’s wonderful, isn’t it?”
I feigned interest and had a look around. She was right. The crowd was swelling. The news had spread from ear to ear, from cell phone to cell phone. And all who heard had come.
“It’s still early, you know.” Gönül continued. “That means no customers, empty bars, families still in command of the streets. The girls had nothing better to do. Now look at them! They’re about to break into the morgue. You’d think the undertaker had killed Buse!” she said with a rueful grin.
“But who were those men, and why were they looking for Sabiha Hanım Teyze?”
Gönül let loose a luxurious, low laugh, her head turned toward the raised shoulder.
I smiled sweetly. She observed me out of the corner of her eye. Then she tossed her mane of hair and focused her attention on me once again.
“They must have been cops or something. Why else would those thugs want to see Sabiha?”
“So where did they go?” I asked.
“How am I supposed to know,
ayol
! And what’s with all the questions? What’s your problem anyway? You’re not some kind of spy, are you? All I get is a whole load of questions every time I see you.”
ayol
! And what’s with all the questions? What’s your problem anyway? You’re not some kind of spy, are you? All I get is a whole load of questions every time I see you.”
“
Ayol,
the things you come up with,” I said. “And we’ve known each other all this time.”
Ayol,
the things you come up with,” I said. “And we’ve known each other all this time.”
“For as long as I’ve known you, you’ve been pestering me with questions. ‘What do you know? What have you heard?’ It’s like some kind of Judgment Day examination.”
“Don’t be such a child,” I reprimanded her. “If I can’t even count on you, what will the others be like? You know me, I’ve always had an inquiring mind.”
“I can’t say I think much of know-it-alls or busybodies. They rub me the wrong way.”
“
Ayol,
here I am trying to help this poor lady. Buse’s mother, Sabiha Teyze, could be in terrible danger. Whoever killed the daughter could go after the mother next. I can’t tell you all my suspicions right now. Buse came to my house last night—well, this morning. She said her house had been broken into. She was terrified.”
Ayol,
here I am trying to help this poor lady. Buse’s mother, Sabiha Teyze, could be in terrible danger. Whoever killed the daughter could go after the mother next. I can’t tell you all my suspicions right now. Buse came to my house last night—well, this morning. She said her house had been broken into. She was terrified.”
Gönül’s eyes widened with fear and curiosity. She nearly pierced my eardrum with a shriek that echoed through the entire district.
“Who broke into Buse’s house?”
All heads turned in our direction. The low murmuring suddenly stopped. Ears pricked, the crowd gave us their full attention. Gönül lowered her voice to a whisper.
“Who were they?” she repeated.
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I’m trying to find out. I need help. I don’t know what to do. And all you do is tell me I give you the creeps.”
“Well, it’s true. I got all funny,” she said. “Once I get that way, that’s it. The end.
Finito.
Even if I were in the sack—with Kadir İnanır, no less—that’s it. Off I go. Speaking of Kadir, I’m just wild about him. I think he gets better with age. If he gave me a sign I’d be his on the spot. I’d put on a head scarf and nestle at his feet. I mean, I’d be his love slave for life,
ayol
.”
Finito.
Even if I were in the sack—with Kadir İnanır, no less—that’s it. Off I go. Speaking of Kadir, I’m just wild about him. I think he gets better with age. If he gave me a sign I’d be his on the spot. I’d put on a head scarf and nestle at his feet. I mean, I’d be his love slave for life,
ayol
.”
Gönül’s stream of consciousness
nouveau roman,
in the manner of Nathalie Sarraute, had me reeling. I immediately revised my rather low opinion of her intellect. I tried, and failed, to suppress an appreciative smile.
nouveau roman,
in the manner of Nathalie Sarraute, had me reeling. I immediately revised my rather low opinion of her intellect. I tried, and failed, to suppress an appreciative smile.
“It’s not possible to talk here. Would you like to go and have a chat over tea? I could really use your help.”
She was eyeing the crowd, which was still growing. She seemed reluctant to miss the show—perhaps she thought she might even seize a leading role in it. But I had no time for such indecision. Grabbing her arm, I said, “March. I’ll explain everything.”
Chapter 7T
he moment we got into the taxi I told Gönül as much as she needed to know. In the front seat, Hüseyin listened silently, and was therefore fully briefed as well. In fact, he even went so far as to interrupt near the end to tell Gönül how he had spotted a panicked Buse in front of the club while looking for me, and then brought her to my house. Then he added, in his most injured-male tone, that I had refused his offers of help, or even to allow him to come inside. The consolation he sought was forthcoming. Gönül Ablam sprang to his defense:
he moment we got into the taxi I told Gönül as much as she needed to know. In the front seat, Hüseyin listened silently, and was therefore fully briefed as well. In fact, he even went so far as to interrupt near the end to tell Gönül how he had spotted a panicked Buse in front of the club while looking for me, and then brought her to my house. Then he added, in his most injured-male tone, that I had refused his offers of help, or even to allow him to come inside. The consolation he sought was forthcoming. Gönül Ablam sprang to his defense:
“A dependable young man like this. He wouldn’t be able to help? Of course he’d have been of use. I mean, really.”
Hüseyin basked in the praise. Gönül’s commendation was apparently interpreted as giving him the right to make further claims on me.
“Now, that’s more like it!” he exclaimed. I was subjected to a lascivious wink.
Hüseyin would require a sound thrashing once we were through with our business. Right in the middle of the neighborhood, from pavement to pavement, somersaulting through the air.
All traces of urgency and sense of our real mission erased from her mind, Gönül focused exclusively on Hüseyin.
“Where are you from?”
“Istanbul,” said Hüseyin. “The whole family’s from Istanbul, on both sides.”
“Istanbulians are so refined. There’s nothing they like more than a bit of ladylike friskiness in bed.”
I wondered just what methods of comparison Gönül had used to arrive at this arbitrary conclusion.
Gönül turned to me. “He’s such a lion of a man,
ayol
. His heat alone would be enough for any girl. Real men have no time for coyness. They don’t wait around. Oh, no. Someone else snaps them up!”
ayol
. His heat alone would be enough for any girl. Real men have no time for coyness. They don’t wait around. Oh, no. Someone else snaps them up!”
Judging from the trademark sideways simpering, Gönül liked what she saw of Hüseyin. She was declaring that unless I pounced on him, he was fair game.
“These summer nights are hot enough,” I said. “I have trouble tolerating my own skin, sometimes.”
Hüseyin wasn’t going to let that go by.
“We’ll cool you off,” he said with a leer, the grinning dog-face making a reappearance.
The insolence! I had really had enough. Heedless of the fact that we were hurtling down Vatan Caddesi, I inflicted a sharp chop on the back of his lower neck, near his left ear. He must have seen lightning. A strange croak erupted from his mouth. But—and I really had to hand it to him—he continued driving as though nothing had happened.
“That’s really shameful,” he said. “Ever since last night, I’ve given up my job to ferry you around, and look what I get in return. It was a joke! I understand. You said I’m not your type. Okay, fine. But we’ve been in the car together for three hours, and you haven’t spoken once to me the whole time. That’s okay, too. But at least don’t hurt me! What’s the big deal? So I like you, so what?”
“He’s right.” Gönül said. “Those dark eyes. Those eyebrows. He’s young. He’s handsome. A hunk of a man.”
“Okay, okay, I apologize. You can see how wound up I am. We’ve got to hurry. I just lost my temper when you started drooling at me.”
Under the mistaken illusion that we’d become fast friends, Gönül gave me a playful pinch, as though to say,
Good for you.
I deplore that sort of behavior, but I forced a smile. Now she poked me, as though to say,
Keep going
.
Good for you.
I deplore that sort of behavior, but I forced a smile. Now she poked me, as though to say,
Keep going
.
“Tell us exactly where we’re going so Hüseyin can get us there as soon as possible,” was my only response.
Staring at me foolishly, and clearly miffed that the fun and games had come to an end, Gönül said, “But you were the one who invited me. I thought we were going to have a drink somewhere. It’s not up to me to tell Hüseyin where to go.”
Hüseyin seized the opportunity. “Come on,
abla;
let’s go to the house of Buse Hanım’s mother, whatever her name was.”
abla;
let’s go to the house of Buse Hanım’s mother, whatever her name was.”
“Who are you calling ‘big sister’?” retorted Gönül, ready to lash out at Hüseyin.
“Her name is Sabiha,” I interrupted.
“But it’s so far away!” Gönül whined. “Can we at least have something to eat first? I haven’t even had dinner. I was too distraught to think of myself. Just ran right out of the house.”
She cast an appraising eye at her shoulder, as though it were the first time they’d met.
“And my clothes are all wrong. Look at these old worn-out shoes.”
Hüseyin continued driving in a circle between Vatan Caddesi and Millet Caddesi.
I grasped her hand, squeezing firmly but gently. “Look, we’ve got to hurry, or something terrible could happen to that nice old lady. Afterward, I promise we’ll all go out to eat.”
“But won’t it be awfully late by then?”
A good number of Gönül’s brain cells are obviously in a state of indolent dormancy.
“What do you mean, ‘late’? The Etap is open past midnight, until two in the morning.”
“But they won’t let me in there.”
“We’ll go anywhere you like. Now come on, tell us the address.”
I squeezed her hand. This time, it hurt. Her eyes widened as she realized the seriousness of the situation.
“Ay! That smarts, girlfriend. Okay, fine. Take the next right. Toward Kocamustafapaşa.”
We shot across three lanes of traffic, barely managing to make our turn. Winding our way through a series of increasingly narrow roads, in ten minutes we reached it. There was a sharp tang of smoke in the air. Daytime balcony barbecue parties had created a stench.
We parked in front of a rundown, sixties-style, four-story apartment building. The cramped hallway smelled of bleach and urine. Gönül giggled, as though the odor were somehow cause for hilarity. It’s a scientifically proven fact that our brain cells are dying with each passing second, but Gönül was miles ahead in that particular race. That much was certain.
Each floor contained three flats. The corridor walls had been painted milky brown up to shoulder-height, and the paint was peeling.
Emboldened by Gönül’s attentions, and now considering himself a full-fledged partner, Hüseyin followed us, a respectful few steps behind. If I put my mind to it, I am able to walk with minimal wiggling of the hips. I had no intention of treating Hüseyin to the sight of a swaying bottom. With a determined—even manly—gait, I led the way. In any case, even I would find it difficult to shimmy in trainers.
We rang the bell of the only flat whose entryway was not cluttered with rows of unpolished shoes. No one had removed shoes in front of Sabiha’s door. There were no visitors offering their condolences. We waited, then rang the bell again. And resumed waiting once more. Meanwhile, one of the doors behind the mountains of shoes opened slightly, and a five-year-old girl with badly cut curly hair poked out her head. She looked at us intently. We stared back.
The smell of cooking wafted out from the partly open door.
Hüseyin smiled uncomfortably. I reached over and gave the door a sharp rap. Perhaps the blind lady was also a bit hard of hearing. She may have gone to bed. Or she could be watching TV and unable to hear the bell. I stopped for a moment to ponder whether or not blind people watch TV.
Interpreting Hüseyin’s smile as an offer of friendship, the girl spoke.
“She’s not home.” Bashful, the little head withdrew into the apartment. The door closed. If a child knew Sabiha was not at home, her parents may well have known where she was. We moved to the door and rang the bell. It opened instantly. Before us stood a stout woman of about thirty. Red-cheeked and cheery-looking, she was nothing like her daughter. Her eyes traveled from me to Hüseyin, then to Gönül.
“May I help you?”
“We were looking for Sabiha Hanım. Your daughter just told us she wasn’t at home. We thought you might know where she is.”
Other books
Volcano Street by David Rain
My First New York by New York Magazine
Cad Guidebook: A Basic Manual for Understanding and Improving Computer-Aided Design by Stephen J. Schoonmaker
Everything He Risks by Thalia Frost
Fournicopia by Delilah Devlin
Nightmares from Within by Jessica Prince
The Devil's Looking-Glass by Mark Chadbourn
Girls' Night Out Murder (Ryli Sinclair 2) by Jenna St. James
The Secret of Ashona by Kaza Kingsley
Phillip Adams by Philip Luker