CHAPTER 1 – The Man Beside the Pool
Ankara, November 12, 1950
Following a report received that morning, Police Chief Ziya went with his officers to the gardens of the Kızılay General Directorate. Entering through the gate onto Gazi Mustafa Kemal Paşa Boulevard, he stopped and looked around. The November morning was cold. A light mist hung over the gardens. The people gathered around the ornamental pool began alerting one another and moving aside when they saw the police.
Ziya took his pocket watch from his vest. After checking the time, he put it away and walked toward the crowd. As the people in front of him moved aside, he saw the man lying facedown beside the pool.
The upper half of the man’s body was in the pool. His legs and feet were outside it. His suit jacket was wet, and mud stained the fabric. He held a mineral water bottle in his right hand. The bottle was empty; a few drops remained on the glass.
Ziya crouched beside him. He reached for the man’s neck and checked his pulse. He waited a while but could find none. His skin was cold. Seeing the discoloration on his fingers, Ziya leaned closer. There was discoloration on the back of his neck as well.
He raised his head and turned to the officers beside him.
“Disperse the crowd and call the prosecutor immediately,” he said.
As the officers got to work, Ziya looked at the body again. He examined the man’s position, the bottle in his hand, and the condition of his clothing. He could not yet see the cause of death. The areas beneath the body could not be examined in this position.
As the crowd was moved away from the pool, people kept looking back. Their conversations overlapped. Without turning his attention to what they were saying, Ziya examined the ground around the man.
Just as he was about to rise, he noticed a piece of paper near the left hand. The man’s left hand was trapped beneath his torso. The paper was right beside it. Ziya picked it up and unfolded it.
It said only, “Mr. Ahmet Güler, Cashier, Uybadin Water Administration.”
He read it again. He noted the job title and institution accompanying the name. He did not know this person’s connection to the dead man. Nor was it clear why his name was written on the paper. Still, this was the first name they could investigate.
“There’s a clue,” he said to himself.
He pushed himself upright with one hand. Then he looked at Uybadin Mansion, which housed the Water Administration. Beside the man found dead in the gardens was a paper bearing the name of a cashier who worked in that building. He would have to contact Ahmet Güler and find out whether he knew the deceased.
He turned his gaze from the mansion to the gardens of the Kızılay building. Then he took out his watch again and checked it. He would remain at the scene until the prosecutor arrived, recording what he saw.
Ziya was fifty years old. He had thick white hair, a red nose, and red cheeks. He was of medium height and slightly overweight. Born in Ankara, he had lived through the city’s growth. He remembered how its familiar streets, houses, and gardens had changed over the years. His persistence in carrying every assignment through to the end, and his careful assessment of details, had earned him respect in his profession.
Now a man whose identity he did not yet know lay before him. He looked at the suit, the hand, and the torso extending into the pool. Politics and business were closely connected in Ankara. People ate at the same restaurants, came and went from the same offices, and met for various reasons. They would need to learn what connections this man had as well.
But Ziya had no information linking any of those things to the murder. They did not even know the identity of the person on the ground. He could not judge his life by his appearance.
When he bent toward the edge of the pool again, he noticed a small bloodstain between the stones. He looked at the stain and at the direction of the man’s face. He could not see the face fully. To understand where the blood had come from, he would have to wait for the body to be turned over.
Keeping the stain’s location in mind, Ziya continued examining the area around the body. He looked again at the bottle in the man’s hand. Its being empty did not, by itself, explain how he had died. The man might have drunk mineral water here. Ziya did not yet know what had happened afterward.
The leaves of the garden trees rustled in the wind. He could hear vehicles passing on the boulevard. Feeling the November chill even beneath his vest, Ziya rubbed his hands together. Then he took out his notebook and began writing down what he had seen.
First he recorded the body’s position in relation to the pool. The upper half of the torso was inside, the feet outside. There was an empty mineral water bottle in the right hand. Discoloration was visible on the fingers and the back of the neck. The paper found near the left hand bore the name of Ahmet Güler, a Water Administration cashier. There was a small bloodstain between the stones.
After reading what he had written, he raised his head. He looked again at the wet and muddy parts of the jacket. There might be a wound that was not yet visible, or an object trapped beneath the body. For that reason, he did not consider his initial examination complete.
He remained beside the man while waiting for the prosecutor. Outside the gardens, daily activity continued. Ziya stood at the edge of the pool, continuing to examine the body and the traces around it.
