Romantic Comedy Box Set (Helen Grey Series Books 1 & 2)

by Hodge, Sibel

  I slid from the bed and towered over the suitcase. It looked fairly normal and suitcaseyish.

  I sat on the floor and pulled out the contents until everything was lying around me. Black trainers – slightly scuffed. Three pairs of black trousers. A selection of Speedos in tartan, purple, white – does anyone actually wear white Speedos? What about when they got wet? It didn’t bear thinking about. A black baseball cap. Five pairs of new, black boxer shorts, still in their packets – at least I didn’t have to finger any used ones. A weird, black thing that looked like some sort of money belt, but wasn’t. It had a soft pad in the centre, with an adjustable strap either side. A small toiletry bag, containing shaving gel, a razor, a pair of scissors, deodorant, and a toothbrush. Six black T-shirts. And that was it.

  So why was it really heavy?

  Kalem swung his legs over the bed and sat up as I picked through everything again, inspecting them for hidden items. The inside of the baseball cap had a zip in it. I undid it and looked inside.

  ‘What’s this?’ I probed my finger in and pulled out a piece of soft, lightweight black cotton material. Then my jaw dropped as I unravelled it. ‘It’s a balaclava! Why would someone need a balaclava in ninety degree heat?’

  Kalem fiddled with the money belt thingy. ‘This is a shoulder pad.’

  ‘Weird looking shoulder pad. It doesn’t look anything like the ones they used to have in the Eighties.’

  ‘No, it’s not a shoulder pad for clothes. It’s a shoulder pad to use when you’re shooting a gun.’ Kalem tried it on, fixing it over his shoulder and strapping it around his chest to show me.

  There could be only one reason why someone wanted a shoulder pad for a gun. They were intending to shoot something. Or someone.

  We stared at each other, wide-eyed.

  Kalem picked up the now empty case. ‘It’s still heavy. There must be some kind of secret compartment in it.’ He set it down on the floor and knelt down, feeling along the sides and the bottom of the case.

  I sat forward and peered over his shoulder. Then I heard a click, and the bottom of the suitcase unclipped from a section underneath it.

  Kalem threw the false bottom panel to the side to reveal what was hidden there.

  A sheet of what looked like some sort of carbon paper hid whatever was below it.

  ‘What’s that for?’ I asked as Kalem lifted off the paper.

  ‘Probably so the X-ray machine at the airport couldn’t detect what was hidden inside it.’

  And that’s when I knew we were really in trouble.

  We stared at wads and wads of cash, packed into tight bundles.

  I pulled one out and examined it. ‘They’re all one hundred dollar notes. What the hell is going on?’ I pulled out more bundles until they were all on the floor around us. ‘And what’s this?’ I reached into the case. Under the wads was a large, folded up piece of paper covered in scribbly writing.

  I unfolded it and spread it across the floor, the paper crackling in my fingertips. Folded inside was a bigger piece of paper with lots of writing and diagrams on it.

  Kalem examined the bigger piece while I tried to decipher the writing on the other one.

  ‘This is a building engineer’s floor plan of the Plaza Hotel,’ Kalem said.

  ‘Well this is an itinerary of events that will happen on the day of the official opening of the hotel on Friday.’ I turned it over and read the back. ‘It’s also got details of the Cleopatra sculpture and directions to an art dealer across the border in South Cyprus.’ I sat back on my heels and fanned at my flushed face, feeling light headed.

  Kalem reached into the case again and pulled out the only remaining item. A black and white picture of Ibrahim Kaya.

  ‘How much money is here? Count them,’ I said, flicking through the wads.

  We did. All five hundred thousand dollars of them.

  We looked at each other. Kalem’s face mirrored my own panic.

  My brain was having a hard time trying to take it all in. This couldn’t be real. It had to be a joke. Maybe Ayshe and Charlie were trying to play a pre-wedding trick on us. Instead of filling our bed with Cornflakes or whatever, they’d planted fake money in my suitcase and replaced all my clothes and my wedding dress with men’s clothes. I bet they were having a good old laugh in their rooms right about now. But hang on…they weren’t with us at the airport. They couldn’t have known I would accidentally pick up Ferret Face’s case. OK, so if it wasn’t a joke, maybe I was dehydrated and starting to have a heat stroke induced delirium. Yes, that was it. Or maybe I had a serious illness. Maybe I was feverish and hallucinating. That would explain a lot, wouldn’t it?

  I wiped a bead of sweat from my upper lip and stared at the contents of the case, hoping they’d vanish into thin air. Nope, they were still there. I wasn’t hallucinating.

  We fell silent for a few minutes, trying to absorb the extent of the situation. Based on everything we’d found, a horrifying conclusion was floating around in my head. A shoulder pad for a gun; the money; the floor plans, and the details of the sculpture and art dealer. It could only add up to one thing.

  ‘It looks like Ferret Face is going to steal the sculpture on the opening night. But why is there a picture of Ibrahim Kaya?’ I asked the question, but I didn’t really want to hear the answer. I could already guess why.

  ‘I think he’s going to assassinate Ibrahim Kaya at the same time.’ Kalem’s eyebrows rose half an inch. ‘Trying to kill someone is bad enough, but stealing the sculpture as well!’

  ‘I told you it had a curse. And now it’s cursed us.’ I exhaled a slow breath. ‘OK, we’ll just take it all to the police and let them deal with it.’

  ‘Yes.’

  I gave him a vigorous nod. ‘And then we have to get them to find my suitcase and, more importantly, my wedding dress.’ I sighed. ‘But I love my wedding dress! What if I never see it again?’

  ‘You will. Don’t worry. The police will find your case and get your wedding dress back.’ He kissed my eyelids, his lips brushing gently against that soft spot – yes, right there – that made my insides turn squishy.

  Ooh, hello! No, I couldn’t be thinking about sex at a time like this. After we’d sorted this mess out today, then I could think about it. Quite a lot.

  ‘Right,’ I said. ‘We’ll just take everything to the police, and they can sort it out. That’s their job. And as long as we never bump into Ferret Face again, we’ll be OK.’ I paused, having a sudden mental brain shriek. ‘Although…it’s a pretty small island. What if we do bump into him somewhere?’

  ‘Well, you’ll be OK. You were wearing a Burka, so he doesn’t even know what you look like. But he’d probably recognize me again.’

  I gripped Kalem’s hand. ‘You won’t be able to leave the house for years! You’ll have to hibernate.’ I pondered this. ‘Or we could just move back to the UK. You know, not even live here like we planned.’ This option was becoming more and more appealing to me at that very second.

  My mental list of bad things about moving here was rapidly increasing:

  1) Crazy extended family.

  2) Involved in assassination and art heist. (Note to self: could possibly end up killed ourselves by psychopathic killers.)

  3) We were now cursed by Queen Cleopatra.

  I thought the bad things were seriously outweighing the good at this point.

  Kalem thought about this for a while. ‘No, hang on a minute. We can’t take it to the police.’

  ‘What do you mean? Why not?’ I whined, struggling to digest what he was saying. I didn’t want to get caught up in this. Well, I wouldn’t mind keeping the money. I was only human after all, but no…I definitely didn’t want to get caught up in anything that involved blowing people’s brains out or stealing a priceless and annoyingly cursed sculpture. ‘Of course we have to.’

  ‘This is obviously a professional job. You don’t travel with five hundred grand in your suitcase, unless you’re trying to launder money.’<
br />
  Well, yes, I got his point. You could hardly just pop into the bank and pay it in or transfer it electronically if you were into criminal dealings. They asked all sorts of questions these days. I could just imagine it…

  Bank Manager: Where did you get this five hundred thousand dollars from, Miss Grey?

  Me: Er…I sold my house.

  Bank Manager: Really? You don’t own a house. (Narrowing his eyes at me)

  Me: Well, my friend sold her house and gave me the money.

  Bank Manager: Hmm. Why did she do that?

  Me: Because… (Thinking of some distraction quickly)

  Bank Manager: Are you money laundering?

  Me: Oh, look at that plane up there with no wings. (Pointing to sky outside the window and running away)

  ‘If someone wants to assassinate the country’s most famous businessman and steal a five million pound sculpture, then they’re probably going to need a bit of help,’ Kalem said. ‘You don’t know who’s involved in it all. North Cyprus has a small population, and therefore a small police force. It’s possible that a bad apple in the police force could be involved in all of this somehow. If we pick the wrong apple, we could be in trouble.’

  I tried to swallow, but my throat felt like I had a porcupine lodged in it. I silently debated this. ‘So, you’re saying that we need to go higher up than the police?’

  Kalem nodded. ‘I’d prefer to go straight to the top. I think we need to go to the President, just to be on the safe side. Now we know about this, it involves our safety as well.’ He leaped out of bed. ‘Although I doubt if we can just barge into his office. I’ll ring and try to get an appointment or something.’ He reached for the phone.

  Kalem was passed from one government department to another and left hanging in a telephonic abyss for what seemed like an hour. When he finally got through to the President’s Office, I’d paced up and down the room at high speed enough to wear a groove in the floor.

  ‘We’ve got an appointment to see the President’s Secretary at two o’clock this afternoon.’

  ‘Thank God.’ I stopped pacing. ‘And that will be the end of it.’ I breathed a huge sigh of relief. ‘We can’t tell your mum and dad what’s going on. I don’t want to give them a heart attack or something.’

  ‘I agree. Shall we tell the others?’

  I shook my head. ‘I don’t want to worry Ayshe, either. She doesn’t need the stress at six and a half months pregnant. We’ll just act normal.’

  Kalem chuckled. ‘You? Act normal? That’ll be the day.’

  I grinned back as someone knocked on the door.

  ‘Just a minute,’ I called out as we quickly shoved the money, building plans, and note back in the case and zipped it up.

  Wrapping a towel around me, I swung the door open. Ayshe, Atila, and Charlie spilled into the room. Well, Ayshe waddled.

  ‘Er…we have a slight situation,’ Charlie said.

  I groaned. What else could possibly happen?

  ‘Mum and Dad have got a virus, or it could be food poisoning,’ Ayshe said to me. ‘I bet it was that fish they insisted on eating last night. I told them it smelled funny.’

  ‘Ha-ha! Very funny,’ I said. ‘They can’t have food poisoning. Deniz is always eating out of date things, and he never gets ill. In fact, he must consume enough whisky for the entire Turkish Army, and he never even gets a hangover.’

  ‘It’s true,’ Atila said.

  My mouth flew open involuntarily.

  ‘Mmm. I had swordfish once and it tasted like wee.’ Charlie pulled a disgusted face.

  I couldn’t comment on that, never having tasted wee myself.

  ‘I was ill for days after.’ Charlie wrinkled up his nose.

  Ayshe carefully positioned herself on the edge of the bed. Charlie plonked himself down next to her and crossed his legs.

  A look of concern clouded Kalem’s face. ‘Will they be OK? Do we need to get them to the hospital or anything?’

  Ayshe shook her head. ‘No, they’ve seen the hotel doctor. He’s taken some samples from them and given them some medication. He’s pretty sure that it’s food poisoning, but just to be on the safe side, they have to stay in their room in case it’s something catching. Hopefully they should be fine in a few days.’

  ‘Well, I don’t suppose they can do much else with the projectile vomiting and squits,’ Charlie added, as if he were being helpful, but now I had a really horrible image in my mind that I didn’t particularly want. ‘We can pass notes under their door. But I don’t want either of you going to see them.’ He wagged a finger at Kalem and me. ‘We can’t have the bride and groom out of action on the wedding day.’

  ‘It’s probably just food poisoning,’ I said. ‘We’re not likely to catch that, are we?’

  ‘Well I’d better not see them in case I get something that affects the baby,’ Ayshe said ‘Neither can Atila. We can talk to them through the door.’

  ‘God, I hope they’ll be OK by Sunday. What are we going to do without them at the wedding if they’re still ill?’ I asked.

  ‘Who’s the man in that picture?’ Charlie noticed the picture of Ibrahim Kaya, pushed half under the bed that we’d inadvertently left out of the case.

  ‘What man?’ Ayshe leaned over to try and get a better look.

  Atila picked up the picture. ‘I recognize him. There was an article about him in the in-flight magazine. That’s Ibrahim Kaya – the mega-rich hotel owner. Why have you got a picture of him?’

  I looked at Kalem. Kalem looked at me. Damn. We would have to tell them now. I knew that if we made up some quick excuse they’d see through it in an instant.

  Charlie waved the picture around. ‘Well?’ He noticed the look passing between us. ‘Uh-oh. Helen, what have you got yourself into now?’

  Oh, that’s nice! Blame me! I mean, yes, I did get myself into a few incey wincey peculiar situations now and then, but come on, this wasn’t exactly my fault.

  ****

  We all sat in the bustling hotel restaurant, eating breakfast. As Ayshe was so skinny – even at six and a half months pregnant – I’d had a choice of wearing Kalem’s clothes or Charlie’s. Not much of a choice at all, really, since Kalem was so tall and Charlie’s clothes were loud with a capital L.

  So there we all were, with me dressed in Charlie’s cerise pink trousers that hung round my waist, showing off the top of my lacy Minx knickers, and a cropped top with the words I Love Men on the front. I’d consumed about five iced coffees and nothing else. I didn’t know what the standard amount of caffeine required after a shock this big was, but it was safe to say that my brain was reaching buzzing overload.

  ‘It will be fine,’ I said, with more confidence than I actually felt. ‘We’ll just give everything to the President’s Secretary, and that will be it. Over and done with. Finito. The End.’

  ‘Yes,’ Ayshe, Atila, Charlie, and Kalem agreed in unison.

  ‘So what do you want to do before you go there?’ Ayshe asked.

  I glanced down at my clothes. ‘Well, I suppose I need to go shopping first. I haven’t got any clothes or shoes or toiletries. I need to get a few things to tide me over until I get my suitcase back.’

  Charlie clasped his hands together. ‘Oh, goody. I’ll come too.’

  ‘I think I’ll stay at the hotel in case Mum or Dad needs me,’ Ayshe said.

  ‘I’ll stay with you.’ Atila draped an arm around Ayshe’s shoulder.

  ****

  We walked the short distance into Kyrenia town with people staring at my rather unique attire. One woman actually had the gall to stop and point at me, agog. I desperately needed something to distract me, so I’d started trying to count the cosmopolitan and designer shops. So far, I was up to a big fat zero. The main high street was tiny with even tinier shops. I was used to popping up to Oxford Street or a huge shopping mall. This was like the opposite of a busy London shopping street times a squillion. Could I actually live here without shops? Could I be a fully func
tioning woman? Would I get bored?

  Oh, stop it, Helen. You’re being ridiculous. And materialistic. Of course you can live without shops. It’s not like it’s a medical necessity or anything. Maybe they are here, but you just haven’t found them yet. Anyway, you’ve got Kalem. And your new life will be an exciting adventure. And he wants this new job so badly. You can’t just let him down and say you want to leave. Can you?

  We scoured the few miniscule boutiques. I bought some black flip-flops, a turquoise bikini, a couple of plain summer dresses, and some underwear – not quite as sexy as the vast array of new honeymoon ones I’d packed, but they were quite pretty. Charlie bought a pink kilt.

  Since we were in town, I decided to window shop in a couple of wedding dress shops. I had to try and be practical, and it was good to be prepared, wasn’t it? What if I didn’t get my dress back? It was unbearable and unthinkable, and I’d be doomed to bad luck if I couldn’t get married with Nan’s lucky charm. But I had a horrible, niggling feeling in the back of my mind that Ferret Face wouldn’t be giving my suitcase back any time soon.

  The first wedding shop we went in was home to a vast array of flouncy meringue dresses, which was great if you liked that sort of thing. I wanted something more sleek and sexy. They were big puffy things that would make me look like I was wearing a giant French Fancy cake. It was the same in the next. And the next. And the next. Uh-oh.

  ‘Don’t worry.’ Kalem wrapped his arms around me. ‘You’ll definitely get your suitcase back. Probably today. And even if you don’t, we’ve still got time to find another wedding dress.’

  I scowled at the nearby French Fancy shop and nestled into him, having a hard time trying to stop the tears pricking behind my eyelids.

  ‘Group hug.’ Charlie launched himself around both of us. ‘This heat is making me thirsty. Let’s get a drink.’

  We wandered down through some old cobbled streets and ended up above a horseshoe shaped harbour, lined with a mixture of historic buildings and chic pavement cafes and restaurants. People ambled along, tourists and Cypriots alike, as if they had no place in particular to go, and were in no rush to get there anyway.