A Visit with Arlene Culiner and The Turkish Affair

Please welcome Arlene Culiner, who is going to tell us about her fabulousmystery/romance TheTurkish Affair. 

The words Romantic Mystery often conjure up serial killers, car chases,shoot-outs, and gun-packing super heroes and heroines. I, however, preferreality. When finding myself in terrible danger, do I contemplate romance? Can Icount on the sudden appearance of a sexy secret agent who puts all villains outof commission? Of course not. Insteadof all that action, I transport readers to unusual places, give them unconventionalintelligent heroes and heroines. InThe Turkish Affair,Anne Pierson is a former American journalist who, after a scandalous affairwith the wrong man, lost her job and her reputation. For the last ten years,she’s been hiding in backwoods Turkey and working as a translator. My hero, archaeologistRenaud Townsend, is passionate about his work and ancient history, but he’sdetermined to keep his independence.

LikeAnne, I once lived in a small community in central Turkey, and I worked as a translator(then later, as a belly dancer—but that’s another story altogether). I was inTurkey at a difficult time: the police were corrupt, there was political unrest,and there were frequent arrests. Several times I found myself in danger, andonce, as related in The Turkish Affair, a brave young woman rescued me.I was also present when archaeologists were called in to identify stolen coins,and the thefts from an archaeological site did happen in the way I describethem.

   Of course Anne’s storyis very different from mine. And one morning, while passing through anarchaeological site, I caught sight of a man ambling in the direction of atumble of ruined pillars. He was lean, supple, and the torrid sun caught thegolden blaze of his hair. He became Renaud Townsend, the hero of The Turkish Affair.

Blurb:

Pricelessartifacts are disappearing from the ancient Hittite site of Karakuyu in Turkey,and the site director has vanished. Called in to solve the mystery,archaeologist Renaud Townsend is hindered by both his inability to speak thelanguage and the knowledge that the local police are corrupt. His attraction totranslator Anne Pierson is immediate, although he is troubled by her refusal totalk about the past and her fear of public scandal.

But when murder enters the picture,both Anne and Renaud realize that the risk of falling in love is not the onlydanger.

 Excerpt:

The sound of insistent knocking penetrated through heavylayers of sleep. Anne fought her way out of the world of dreams and back intoconsciousness. The knocking persisted. It was real. Louder. Longer. Someone outin the street was hammering on the door of this house. Whattime was it? Not morning. This didn’t have the feel of morning. Beyond theskimpy curtains imperfectly covering the windows of her room, the sky wasblack. So it was still night. Anne’s fingers fumbled blindly, searching for thelittle clock on the table to her left.
      Two o’clock? What was going on? She laystill in her warm bed, fearing the unknown. There was nothing to do but wait.Durmuş, the male head of the family, would attend to the matter. He was theonly one qualified for such a job; here, one conformed to strict rules.
      The knockingstopped. She strained her ears, desperate to know what was going on. Silence. It was probably nothing at all.Perhaps someone—a relative, a neighbor—was ill and needed to call a doctor. Noteveryone, particularly older people, possessed a telephone out here. Perhaps itwas something simple: a burst pipe, a birth? Perhaps a cousin, an uncle andaunt had just arrived from distant place like Germany. Or France. She stoppedspeculating and tried to calm herself, well aware of how tense and frightenedshe was.
      One never knewwhat was really going on in this part of the world. This wasn’t a major citylike Istanbul or Ankara; this was nothing like the south coast with its touristhotels, foreign-owned apartments, and the modern dwellings of middle-classTurks. This was the backwoods where everyone relied on rumor, speculation, ormumbled stories. Too many of those stories told of arrests andinterrogations—arrests that often took place at hours like this, wheneveryone’s guard was down.
      Pointless,ignoring the reality of life. Yes, people here were kind and generous, and thecountryside was outstandingly beautiful. But there were dangers. The politicalsituation was unstable. There was no check on police power, and human rightsbarely existed. Everyone, even those from upstanding families, feared the knockon the door. And she, a foreign, unattached woman, could always be deemed a badinfluence in this conservative society.
      “Anne?” Durmuşwas outside her door, calling her softly. “Anne, wake up.”
      As if she couldhave slept through such a din. Leaping out of bed, she raced to the door,opened it. Durmuş’s pale, lined face didn’t look particularly anxious. That, atleast, was a good sign.
      “Some people wantto see you. It’s urgent, they say.”
      Of course it would be, at an hour likethis. “Who?”
      “Yıldız, from the Tourist Board. Thepolice.”
      “The police?” Her heart caught.
      “Another man,too.”

 

      “I’ll getdressed.” She closed the door with trembling hands and hastily scrabbled aroundfor clothes—how did shoes manage to hide themselves when you needed themmost?—then headed down the corridor toward the vestibule. Under the naked bulb,she saw Yıldız Bey and the police officer. The third man…
      Her astonished eyes metRenaud’s apologetic ones. “Sorry for waking you at this ungodly hour, Anne,” hesaid quietly. “I would have telephoned, but no one seems to have a number for you.”
      “I don’t have acell phone.” She preferred being well off the world’s radar.
      “Well, that’s theanswer then.” He smiled faintly. “We couldn’t wait until morning. Mr. Yıldızwas good enough to bring me here, and we have to get going.”
      “Going? Towhere?”
      “We’re driving toDenizşehir where you’ll be doing some translating. I’ll give you the detailswhen we’re on the road. Pack an overnight bag, just in case we have to staylonger.”
      “Denizşehir?”That city was hundreds of miles away, down on the coast. What did Denizşehirhave to do with her? With Renaud and the police? And why leave now, at thiscrazy hour? How unreal everything seemed at this time of the morning—or was itnight?      She was hardly in a positionto protest. This was an emergency of some sort, or Yıldız Bey wouldn’t havebrought Renaud to this respectable family home where she lived.
      Back in her room, she stuffedessentials into a traveling bag. A blouse, light skirt. What else would need? Anightgown. A dress—something elegant, pretty, and feminine, just in case theywould be seeing important people down on the coast…unless this was purecoquetry on her part. The thought made her smile.

What they say about The Turkish Affair

Glitteringdescriptions, magical settings, and enviable characters. Culiner’s mastery ofthe English language and sentence combinations form an enchanting read forlovers of romance and adventure. Readers’Favorite

 

Work has gone into making sure thehistoric facts and archaeological details are spot on. This is an excellentbook that was an easy read. The pace was steady and the mystery kept me grippedto the unexpected ending. Whispering Stories Book Blog

 

Buriedpasts and questionable reputations, vulnerable hearts, fragile feelings,suspense, fear, and intrigue—they are all here. I didn’t want to put it down. J Livingstone 

Trailer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4zkQ20uC4eg

PurchaseLinks: https://books2read.com/TheTurkishAffair

About the Author

 

J. Arlene Culiner

Writer,social critical artist, and impenitent teller of tall tales, J. Arlene Culiner,was born in New York and raised in Toronto. She has crossed much of Europe onfoot, has lived in a mud house on the Great Hungarian Plain, in a Bavariancastle, a Turkish cave dwelling, a haunted house on the English moors, and on aDutch canal. She now resides in a 400-year-old former inn in a French villageof no interest where, much to local dismay, she protects spiders, snakes, andweeds.

Observingpeople in cafes, in their homes, on trains, or in the streets, she eavesdropson all private conversations, and delights in hearing any nasty, funny,ridiculous, sad, romantic, or boastful story. And when she can't uncover reallysalacious gossip, she makes it up.

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Website: https://www.j-arleneculiner.com/the-turkish-affair

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