Free The Prophet Murders by Mehmet Murat Somer Page B

religion. But he is no killer.
    Dusk had fallen as I left Kemal’s house. It was turning into a long and eventful day. When I arrived home, my answering machine was full of messages.
    The first one was from Ayla, who had called just to hear my voice. She said she hoped to see me soon, and hung up. As always, ever since our childhood, I detected a hint of aggression in her voice. It was ridiculous of her to feel jealous after so many years. What was there to resent, anyway? Selçuk had chosen her over me, and they were married. What else did she want?
    Next came a call from Hasan. He sounded agitated, told me he had a bombshell to drop and asked me to call right back.
    Then came Ponpon in a panic. She said Hasan had called her, adding that she couldn’t believe what I was getting mixed up in. The message made no sense.
    Of all the girls, Ponpon is the one I like best. She’s cultured and funny. For as long as I can remember she has been doing drag shows at major hotels. She also keeps busy with private performances. Birthday parties, special celebrations and even circumcision ceremonies.
    “What can I do?” she says. “If they want to circumcise their sons, and then, once they’ve become men, have them spend the night with me, just what am I supposed to do? I thank my fellow citizens.”
    I wasn’t used to hearing panic in her voice, since she’s a cheerful and sometimes even slightly callous sort.
    Ali seems to pride himself on calling me every time I prepare to leave the house. This was no exception. He wanted to discuss a proposal he’d received from a German company, Frechen Gmbh, and told me to call him back no matter what the hour. His tone made it clear that there were loads of money to be made. Ali is the sort of man who suddenly speaks with a whole new sense of confidence when money will soon be entering his pocket.
    In short, all the callers but Ayla expected me to phone them back.
    I gave Ponpon top billing.
    “Where on earth were you, ayol !” she began.
    “What’s going on?”
    “What do you think, sweetie? That Hasan of yours has my head spinning. I’m virtually unhinged as it is, so you can imagine what it’s done to me.”
    “What is it?”
    “There’s some sort of pervert, or a whole gang of them. Something dangerous. Our girls are getting killed. You’ve uncovered them. But you don’t know who they are.”
    Hasan had let his imagination run away with him once again. What he said might turn out to be true, but I hadn’t yet put the pieces together quite that way. I wondered if he’d found out anything new, remembering his claim to have some news of a “bombshell”.
    “I’m not sure of anything yet,” I said. “Nothing’s that certain. I’ve just got a lot of suspicions.”
    “That’s not what Hasan said!”
    “I haven’t talked to him yet. He may have found out something else. Believe me when I say I don’t know any more. Anyway, why are you in such a panic?”
    “My name is Zekeriya!”
    “So?”
    “What do you mean ‘so’? Zekeriya is the name of a prophet. If what Hasan says is true, and there’s some maniac serial killer who’s chasing after people named after prophets, I’m next in line.”
    I’d known Ponpon for years, but only as Ponpon. I’d even forgotten that she must have had a real name.
    “Sweetie, I’m absolutely terrified! That Hasan of yours has scared me to death. I can’t possibly go to the hotel alone. I’ve got to find someone to go with me. Anyway, that’s not my main problem. There’s no way I’m staying home on my own!”
    “Don’t exaggerate, Ponpon,” I reassured her.
    “I’m not exaggerating, ayol . I’m not some sheep to be led to the slaughter. You’ve got to understand. I’m terrified. I wouldn’t be caught dead on my own at a time like this!”
    “All right, come stay with me if you want.”
    “I’ll be right over. I’ll go to the hotel, finish work and then head straight for your place. I’m totally frazzled. I