Mehmet Somer - The Gigolo Murder

“What have you heard?” I pressed him.

The phone rang. There were no other cabs. Gesturing for me to wait, Hüseyin went into the taxi shelter to answer the phone.

When he returned he was smirking. Just two words from me, and he already was becoming insolent.

“I gotta run,” he said. “But I’ll stop by for a tea later, if you want. You can tell me all about it.”

Here we go again.

“He’s got a brother. A druggie they say. And a brother-in-law. Okan and Ziya. Ask around,” I shouted after him as he drove off.

He gave me a military salute in his rearview mirror, flooring the accelerator of his Şahin taxi, even managing to lay a little rubber.

I suppose he thought I’d be impressed.

By the time I opened the door to my flat I’d forgotten all about Hüseyin, my mind having flown back to Haluk. I was too horny to sit still. But it wouldn’t do to sleep with just anyone, either. I know plenty of girls, and indeed real women, who are able to shut their eyes and pretend that whoever is screwing them is the man of their dreams. But I’m not one of them. I want to focus on whoever I’m in bed with. I expect both my mind and my body to be possessed by the same man, or, on rare occasions, very rare occasions, woman.

The house was filled once more with the tantalizing smells of Ponpon’s cooking. I didn’t like the thought of a roll in the hay with her around. If I were alone, I’d be able to do as I wished.

Before I had the chance to drop a subtle hint, Ponpon apparently read my mind and broached the subject herself.

“I’m going to the sauna. Would you like to come?”

I didn’t know what to say. Ponpon and I have totally different approaches to saunas. She thinks it’s a practical way to burn calories; I take a more sensual approach. Naturally, we go to different saunas: Hers are the sterile ones; mine are more like overheated dungeons.

“I just reek of onions,” she said, untying her apron, “and I’m all sweaty. I thought it’d be nice to get rid of some toxins. And peek at a few prowling willies while I do it.”

Anyone else would have used the verb “grab” or even “gobble,” but it was just like Ponpon to satisfy herself with a peek. She wasn’t far from what they call “asexual.” I’d never known her to get horny. If she did get down and dirty with someone, it was always done in the name of love. Then she’d bitterly regret it for days afterward. After a series of blood tests and negative results, she’d finally relax and shut up. A period of repentance lasted for what we creatures of fleshly desires would consider an “eternity” before she’d “sin” once more.

“I’m a little tired,” I lied. “I thought I’d lie down.” My second sentence was closer to the truth, if lacking in detail.

“Of course you are, dear,” she exclaimed. “I can stay here with you if you’d like. It’s not like I have to go to the sauna. Just say the word and I’ll stay.”

“That’s alright,” I assured her. “I’m a big girl now. I’m not afraid of the dark. Go on, have fun.”

“I’d better hit the road before my sweat dries, then. All primed, as it were,” she sang out.

Once Ponpon was out of the house I switched on the PC and began clicking though my collection of rare porn. Some of the men looked a bit like Haluk. I searched for them, and found one. His name was Taylor Burbank. He had a mustache in some pictures, a beard in a few others. So be it. Through squinted eyes he still reminded me of Haluk Pekerdem. That would have to do for now. I began undressing.

And the doorbell rang. Just as I got started. Ponpon must have forgotten something. Not bothering to switch off the computer, I raced to the door, wrapped in a pink jacket. I’d get whatever she wanted and send her on her way.

When I opened the door it was Hüseyin who stood across from me. I’d rather not have met him at the door nearly naked. I struggled to cover myself with the jacket. Unsuccessfully. I concealed myself behind the door.

“Here I am,” he announced.

He was staring at me.

“It was a nearby drop. I came right over. I was afraid of getting stuck at the rank if I went back there.”

“You did well,” I praised him.

Opening the door all the way, I ushered him in.

“Wait right over there,” I said. “I’ll go put something on.”

“Don’t bother,” he said with a wink. “It’s fine with me; I could get comfortable too.”

We’d just made up, and I had work for him, so there was no point in overreacting. Ignoring his remark, I headed down the hallway, certain he was watching my ass and sighing as he did so. Spotting Ponpon’s kimono, I threw it on and returned to the living room.

He’d wasted no time settling into my favorite armchair.

“Can I get you something to drink?” I asked.

“Whatever’s easiest… Nescafé?”

“I’ll be right back.”

“And bring me a glass of water, okay?”

Not only the familiar sen , but the imperative, bossing me around in my own home! Still, I held my tongue. We had work to do, and patience is one of my many virtues.

Handing him his coffee, I put on some soothing music. The fourth, fifth, and sixth discs of Haydn’s Opus 33 Quartets.

“That’s nice,” he said.

I smiled but didn’t feel the need to furnish any further information. He could always go over and look at the cover of the CD if he was curious.

“So tell me what you know,” I prompted.

“I hadn’t heard of any of the three. That is, until they appeared in the newspaper. You know how we read all the papers to pass time at the rank. That’s when I first heard of the guy. Actually, it’s Nazmi the Catamite who knew them personally. He used to be a minibus driver, too. Working on the same route. Knows them from way back. Anyway, he repented, got married, and gave up minibus driving. Then he came to our stand.”

“Who?” I asked.

“Brother Nazmi the Catamite,” he replied. “That’s a nickname he picked up from back then. I’ve never seen any signs that it’s true, but we call him that sometimes just to get him going. You should see him whip out his knife. And the curses when he gets really mad!”

“What does he say about Volkan?” I asked. I didn’t have time for taxi rank antics. It’d be best to finish with Hüseyin before Ponpon returned.

“Well,” he said, taking a gulp of coffee, “Volkan was a fare collector back then, working with his brother-in-law.”

“That’s nothing new,” I said. “I already found that out.”

“The real bombshell’s about to come, but it seems someone’s a little impatient,” Hüseyin teased.

“Out with it,” I commanded. “There’s no point in trying to build up suspense.”

“Back when Volkan was a fresh-faced boy, Ziya, that is, his uncle, would use him.”

In order to be certain I understood what he meant, Hüseyin opened his eyes wide and carefully enunciated each word, with special emphasis on the word “use.” When he was finished, he looked at me expectantly, to gauge my reaction. My eyes, too, had flown wide open. We gaped at each other for a moment.

“The guy was a pederast. He used the boy until he went off to do his military service.”

I was truly astounded.

“You look surprised,” Hüseyin said, all pleased with himself.

“I’m sure I do; I am. That’s the last thing I expected.”

“Wait, there’s more,” he said. “Why do you think he married Volkan’s big sister? So he could be near Volkan! When they got married, they had Volkan live with them. In the same house! Perfect. Not only were they working all day in the same minibus, but they spent nights under the same roof. Volkan must have been about thirteen or fourteen back then, but from what Brother Nazmi the Catamite says, he was a real knock-out. Everyone had eyes for him.”