Baksheesh by Esmahan Aykol

about?”
    â€œDid you see the murder scene? Do you know how they found the body?”
    â€œOh yes, I did, unfortunately. It certainly wasn’t something anyone would actually want to see. But I went upstairs because I heard shouting, and also partly because of that terrible incident that happened to you. Otherwise, I’m not an inquisitive person. Never get mixed up in other people’s business. You don’t often hear fighting going on around here. But now we’ve had two incidents in two days. I’m baffled by it all. Actually, I was worried it might have something to do with you.”
    â€œWhat did you see, Yücel Bey? Please tell me.”
    â€œHe was lying there on the floor. Stone dead. His name was Osman, as you know. He was the eldest brother. There are lots of siblings. I know five of them and there must be more. They’re from the east, but I don’t know which province. Really, I suppose, you’d have to call them Ä°stanbullu now. I’m told they’ve been here for over fifteen years. In Kuledibi, I mean. They were probably somewhere else in Istanbul before that. But I wish you’d have something to drink. It doesn’t feel right. Shall I send out for some tea? Do let’s have some tea.”
    I nodded my assent to keep him happy. He ordered tea over the two-way phone by the front door, and came back to sit down in the chair opposite me. As always, he lifted his trouser legs carefully before sitting. He was a tall, robust-looking man in his sixties, with thinning hair. I wondered where he lived. Where would such a man live in Istanbul?

    â€œDo you live around here, Yücel Bey?”
    â€œNo, madam. Is this any place to live?” he replied. Then he glanced at me and said, “What I mean is, this is no place for people like us. I live on Vatan Road. We used to have a single-storey house with a garden, but we sold it to property developers. I don’t know what got into us. Having a garden was such a great blessing. It’s only with age that people understand the value of certain things. We still have a house and garden out at Silivri. It’s a paradise there. We grow a few vegetables in the garden. Eat home-grown tomatoes. My eldest son is an agricultural engineer, so he’s interested in…”
    He went to open the door and came back with the tea-boy, a mere child, who bowed his head in greeting. Obviously, our Recai didn’t cover this area.
    â€œSorry’ bout what ’appened, miss.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œSorry ’bout what ’appened. We ’eard they took you in.”
    â€œThanks,” I said.
    The boy bowed his head again and left.
    â€œWow,” I said. “My fame has spread.”
    Yücel Bey seemed uncomfortable that the tea-boy had not only recognized me, but had seen me in his workshop. Taking an enormous handkerchief out of his pocket, he mopped his brow.
    â€œI’ll go if you like,” I said.
    He was stroking a brown mole by his nose, thoughtfully, and appeared not to hear me.
    â€œI’ll go if you like,” I repeated.
    Blinking, he looked at me.
    â€œWhat did you say?”
    â€œIf talking to me is a problem for you, I can go.”
    â€œNo, no. Don’t be absurd. Why should it be a problem?” He stopped for a moment, still deep in thought, then added firmly, “Of course not. Why should you go?”

    â€œWell, in that case, I won’t take up much of your time,” I said, pointing to the pile of files lying on the floor.
    â€œLet me explain to you what I know. If that’s all right with you.”
    I lit a cigarette.
    â€œI’m here by half-past eight every morning. Business has been bad recently because of the economic crisis. There are no orders and, as you see, I have nobody working here. When there was work, this place provided a living for ten people, but now I’m thinking of winding the business down and