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

by Hodge, Sibel

  Miss Clipboard suddenly appeared in front of us and looked at her watch. ‘You have one minute left.’ She flashed some perfect teeth and disappeared as quickly as she’d arrived.

  ‘Tell me a little about the sculpture of Queen Cleopatra. Is it really cursed?’ I adjusted myself in the chair, waiting, thinking that I already knew the answer to that.

  He chuckled. ‘No, it’s been in my family for hundreds of years. We haven’t been cursed yet.’

  I swallowed hard. There’s always a first time for everything.

  ‘And you think it’s got enough security? You don’t think someone would try to steal it?’

  ‘Of course not! The President’s Secretary, Erol Hussein, has overseen the security arrangements for the sculpture. He’s a security expert and has assured me that nothing can possibly go wrong. Now, I believe your time is up. I have a very busy schedule before the concert.’ He gave me a courteous smile.

  I stood. ‘Well, many thanks for your time.’

  He stood as well and held his hand out for me to shake.

  I don’t know why, but I ignored his outstretched hand and hugged him instead. He gave me a polite pat on the back and delicately extricated himself out of it.

  Charlie and I left just as the next journalist appeared.

  ‘I want to give Kalem a status update,’ I said, weaving through the crowds and into the car park.

  ‘A status update?’

  ‘Yes, I heard that in a crime film once.’ I knocked on the door of the Land Rover.

  Kalem sat up from his slouched position, looking around to make sure the coast was clear of psychopathic politicians and killers. He unlocked the door, and Charlie and I slid in the back seats.

  ‘We did it!’ Charlie sang.

  ‘Hopefully it will only take half an hour or so to work. We’ll go back in and keep an eye on him to make sure he’s nodding off.’ I put a hand on Kalem’s shoulder. ‘Have you seen Erol anywhere?’

  Kalem swung around and slid his hand through mine. ‘No. I’ve been keeping a low profile, keeping my fingers crossed this is going to work.’

  ‘I’m keeping everything crossed,’ I said. ‘Right, back to work. Let’s make sure Ibrahim Kaya goes bye-byes.’

  Chapter 15

  3.30 p.m.

  Me: ‘He looks tired, doesn’t he? Oh, hang on, he’s yawning.’

  Charlie: ‘No, he’s not. He’s going to sneeze.’

  Me: ‘Shit. Why is he still awake and doing interviews?’

  Charlie: ‘Maybe in another five minutes he’ll be asleep.’

  4.00 p.m.

  Me: ‘Look, he’s still awake. How can he still be a-bloody-wake?’

  Charlie: ‘Yes, but he definitely looks tired now.’

  Me: ‘Wait…is he going to yawn? Hang on…yes!’

  Charlie: ‘That was a yawn. And his eyes look red too.’

  Me: ‘Maybe another five minutes.’

  4.30 p.m.

  Me: ‘Are you sure you gave him three tablets?’

  Charlie: ‘Positive!’

  Me: ‘He should be out for the count now. What’s going on?’

  Charlie: Oh, he’s rubbing his eye again.’

  Me: ‘There’s another yawn.’

  Charlie: ‘That must be at least a seven on the yawnometer scale.’

  5.00 p.m.

  Me: ‘No! He’s getting up. Why isn’t he asleep?’

  Charlie: ‘Maybe we should have given him four tablets instead.’

  Me: ‘Three should have been enough to knock out a small elephant.’

  Charlie: ‘Look, he’s walking towards us. But he looks wobbly, doesn’t he?’

  Me: ‘Definitely a bit unsteady on his feet.’

  Charlie: Looks like he’s concentrating on walking.’

  Me: ‘And another yawn. That’s a good sign.’

  Charlie: ‘Shit. He’s going to the ballroom for the press conference.’

  5.05 p.m.

  Me: ‘He’s slurring his words. That’s good.’

  Charlie: ‘Yes, but only a little bit.’

  Me: You’d probably only notice if you were listening for it.’

  Charlie: ‘Good job he’s sitting down.’

  Me: ‘Look! Did you see how he picked up that water?’

  Charlie: ‘He’s definitely got a wobbly hand.’

  5.15 p.m.

  Charlie: ‘He’s finished the press conference.’

  Me: ‘He’s got an hour and forty-five minutes until the concert.’

  Charlie: ‘Fall asleep! Fall asleep!’

  Me: ‘He looks like he’s about to.’

  Charlie: ‘Ooh, he’s getting up. Did you see him sway then?’

  Me: ‘A wibbly wobbly sway.’

  Charlie: ‘Where’s he going now?’

  Me: ‘Hopefully for a lie down.’

  Charlie: ‘What do we do?’

  Me: ‘We wait. I want to make sure he doesn’t come back out again. I’m going to get Kalem. I haven’t seen Erol Hussein around here anywhere. Maybe he’s too busy counting his money and won’t show up at all.’

  Charlie: ‘Slimeball.’

  Me: ‘Fuckface Fucker!’

  Chapter 16

  By ten to seven you could almost feel the electric vibes in the atmosphere.

  Crowds of glitter-swathed women and dinner-jacketed men packed into the restaurants and bars overlooking the stage area so it was standing-room-only left. Harassed-looking waiters and waitresses filled drinks orders; laughter and conversation noise reverberated through my bones. The port behind the stage was packed with more boats containing guests who were busy getting into the pre-party atmosphere. Lurking out there amongst the camouflage of the party-goers were some very bad people. We stood at the bar area to the side of the stage, keeping an eye on things, debating whether or not Kaya would return to unveil the statue and kick off the concert.

  ‘This is surreal. The statue is under that velvet cover. I’ve always wanted to see it, and I can’t believe I’m actually this close.’ Kalem shuffled from one foot to the other. ‘I just wish I could hold it. Even for a couple of seconds.’

  No! Don’t hold it. It seemed to have cursed us, and we hadn’t even touched it yet. What the hell could it do to us if we did touch it? It didn’t bear thinking about.

  I counted the armed security guards positioned around the display case just in front of the stage. Four. One for each corner of the case.

  ‘It doesn’t look like it could be that big. What’s all the fuss about?’ Charlie stood on tiptoes to get a better view.

  ‘It’s only a bust size, but it’s made of pure gold. Anyway, it’s the only one of its kind, and that’s what makes it so exciting,’ Kalem said.

  ‘Pure gold boobs? Well, they did go in for some weird stuff in the old days.’ Charlie pulled a surprised face.

  ‘No, a bust of her head and shoulders. Not her bust.’ Kalem shook his head.

  ‘What do you think they’re going to do with it if they steal it?’ Charlie asked.

  Kalem shrugged. ‘The plan is for it to go to a jeweller across the border in South Cyprus. They’ll either melt it down and sell the gold, or sell it to another private collector. It’s a really sought-after piece, worth around five million pounds.’

  I was only half listening. I was too busy scanning the crowd and the hotel bedrooms beyond that overlooked the stage. Unfortunately, the sun was in the wrong position. It shone on the darkly tinted patio doors of the rooms so that you couldn’t see a thing. Ferret Face could be behind any one of them. And where was Missing Link? I couldn’t see him either, but then it was hard to see anyone properly in the tightly packed area.

  ‘I’ve got palpitations.’ I patted my chest, trying to take some deep breaths. It felt like I’d had a pacemaker fitted with dodgy batteries. ‘I can’t see anyone, but they could be anywhere in this lot.’

  Kalem looked at his watch for the squillionth time. ‘Five minutes to seven.’

  ‘You look pale,’ I said to
him.

  ‘Not as pale as you,’ he said.

  ‘I feel sick. I feel like I’m going to do a projectile vomit.’ I clutched my stomach.

  ‘I can’t stand the wait. I think I’m going to do more than vomit.’ Charlie crossed one leg over the other, squashing his sock and bobbing up and down like he desperately needed a wee.

  A roar suddenly erupted from the crowd. Everyone in the place stood, clapping away and smiling. God, if only they knew.

  I stood on tiptoes but, being short, I couldn’t see much over the heads of the crowd. ‘What’s happening?’

  ‘Kaya has just appeared in the middle of the stage.’ Kalem tried to peer over the top of a really tall man who’d just pushed in front of us. It could’ve been a hairy butch woman, though, in really high heels. It was quite hard to tell in amongst all these people.

  ‘How did he suddenly appear? Is it a magic show as well?’ Charlie frowned.

  ‘He’s been lifted up from below the stage on a stage lift. He looks a bit wobbly,’ Kalem said.

  I clutched his arm. ‘I can’t see a bloody thing. How wobbly? On a wobble Richter scale?’

  ‘I don’t know. Maybe an eight.’ Charlie stretched up to try and get a better look.

  ‘Lift me on top of the bar. I want to see,’ I cried.

  Kalem picked me up and sat me on the bar.

  I heard a few gasps amongst the crowd as Ibrahim Kaya tried to negotiate his way to a podium at the front of the stage with tottery little steps. He squinted at the ground, like it was going in and out of focus. He took a step forward, then a small step back, as if he’d forgotten how to walk. He looked up at the stage lights, confused, then back to his feet again.

  I gasped the loudest, though. Why wasn’t Ibrahim Kaya tucked up in bed, fast asleep, exactly where he should be when he’d just been dosed up with enough sleeping tablets to put him out for the count? I wanted to squeeze my eyes shut and pretend I was somewhere else. Instead, I just stared at him with morbid curiosity. Watching and waiting. We’d done everything we could and failed. Now it was just a downward spiral of the inevitable happening. And I didn’t know if I could live with myself.

  He reached the podium, clutching onto it for support. It looked like his legs were about to give way any second. And his eyelids were well and truly droopy now. He opened his mouth to speak and his lids finally succumbed to heaviness and closed.

  More gasps.

  His eyelids fluttered open again, and he tried to smile at the crowd, but it looked more like he had a severe case of wind.

  Then he seemed to summon up the last of his willpower and spoke.

  ‘Tha…kyou for…coming to the grand…openang of the new Plaza hotel.’

  ‘He’s slurring. He must be about to conk out any minute,’ Charlie said.

  Someone behind us muttered, ‘Is he drunk?’

  ‘I hope…ooo…enjoy the ‘otel and facilities…as much as I enjoyed…’ Ibrahim suddenly shook his head to himself, loosening his tie. ‘I apologize…I seem to be feeling a…ittle light headed. Must be all the ex…citement.’ His hands clutched the podium harder. He took a deep breath, forced his eyes wide open and carried on. ‘As much as I…joyed building it. The Plaaaaza is my twenty-first ho…tel and is…’ He paused, as if trying to kick-start his brain into gear.

  ‘I can’t look.’ Charlie pressed his hands over his face.

  ‘This is awful,’ I managed through dry lips.

  ‘Wah was I saying?’ Ibrahim tried to straighten his shoulders, but they slumped. He narrowed his eyes at the crowd. He looked like he was trying to bring them in focus. ‘Hotel is econd to…none. In min…Jayde will peeform.’ Kaya lost his balance and toppled sideways slightly.

  Louder gasps.

  He quickly recovered, grabbing onto the podium for support. ‘Now…now…’ His eyelids drooped again. Then he seemed to get a second wind and looked up towards the crowd. ‘Now…’ ‘Now…momant is you that been waiting for,’ he slurred. ‘Queen Cleo...’

  And that’s when several things happened at once in some kind of freaky slow motion.

  Ibrahim Kaya waved a hand towards the display cabinet, his eyes sunk back into his skull, finally succumbing to sleep, and he toppled sideways.

  A shot rang out from one of the hotel bedrooms.

  The bullet hit Kaya and he fell to the floor, blood rapidly seeping through his chest and shoulder area and onto his pink shirt.

  People screamed, eyes wide, mouths frozen open in horror.

  The guards dived towards Kaya.

  Wide-scale panic broke out. The crowd ran in all directions, yelling and shouting.

  The display case slid down.

  Kalem sprinted towards it.

  Missing Link appeared at the display case, his hands grabbing the statue.

  Charlie passed out and hit the deck.

  A few people in the crowd fell, trying to get away. Others scrambled on top of them towards the steps to the pool area and safety beyond.

  I clawed my way through the sea of people up the steps. I had to try and find Ferret Face somehow and follow him.

  More screams.

  My flip-flops fell off as I scrambled through the hysteric crowd. My feet slipped on the wet surface of spilled drinks.

  I made it out to the car park, frantically trying to get a view through the mass of panicked guests who were crying and screaming.

  Someone yanked my arm from behind, jerking me back roughly.

  ‘Agh!’ I swung around.

  Erol Hussein clutched my arm in a vice-like grip and shouted, ‘Arrest this woman!’

  A policeman appeared at his side and wrestled me, kicking and screaming, into a police car.

  Chapter 17

  Police Station, take two.

  Here I was again. Same communal holding cell; same halternecked hooker; minus crazy old woman.

  I lay on the uncomfortable metal bench flanking the back wall of the cell, knees bent, hands over my face, wishing for a magic carpet to whisk me away to my previous life before we moved here. The bench dug into my spine, but at least the pain meant that I was still alive, and I hadn’t been shot by Ferret Face. The bad thing was that I was facing the possibility of a life in prison, probably minus a few chopped-off body parts. I’d never have my perfect wedding in my perfect wedding dress with my nan’s lucky charm. I’d never get married at all, in fact. I’d be left to rot in some stinky cell and turn into the crazy woman, saying “blah” every five minutes.

  And where was Kalem? The last I’d seen was him running towards the statue that Missing Link had already grabbed hold of. And then what? What was happening in the chaos out there? Was Kalem alive? Injured? Did he manage to save the statue? What had happened to Ibrahim Kaya? Was he dead? The bullet looked like it had hit him in the heart. No one could survive that, surely. Had Ferret Face escaped? Maybe Charlie hadn’t fainted. Maybe he’d been shot, too, by a stray bullet.

  My lips trembled, and I couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. They dripped down my cheeks from behind my hands, soaking my neck and arms.

  ‘You been hooking again?’ Halterneck Hooker said to me.

  ‘Go away!’ I yelled.

  ‘Ooh, only asking. No need to get so touchy. What you in here for again, then?’ She pulled a packet of tissues from her pocket and handed them to me.

  I swung my legs down and sat up, wiping clumsily at my eyes. I took the tissues and yanked one out. ‘I was at the Plaza. Someone shot the owner.’

  She whistled. ‘Oh, so that’s what happened tonight. I saw lots of policemen running out of here about an hour ago. They said some psychopathic woman had carried out her threats to kill the owner.’

  I think my hair actually stood on end at that point. ‘What?’ Blood pumped to my head in a fuzzy rush. They couldn’t be…no. They couldn’t have meant me.

  ‘That’s what they said. Apparently, she’s a real danger to society.’ She nodded at me and her gigantic beaded earrings jangled. ‘Good job we’re in h
ere.’ She elbowed me. ‘Although, it’s funny you mention the Plaza. I’ve been servicing a guy this week who’s been staying there too. Seen him every night–’

  ‘Yes, but what else did they say about the shooting?’ My breaths came in short gasps. Maybe I was hyperventilating. ‘Have you got a paper bag?’

  She chuckled. ‘Where?’ She held out her arms, indicating she didn’t have anything but the clothes she was wearing. And they were pretty few and far between. ‘Hidden in my knickers?’ She rubbed my back. ‘Take a few deep breaths. That’s it.’

  ‘So, what else did they say? Quick! Tell me!’ I said, trying urgently to steer her back to the subject, instead of talking about her client, who I couldn’t care less about.

  ‘Oh, something about some woman who shot Ibrahim Kaya, and then her boyfriend stole his statue. Something like that.’

  Oh, my God. I uncrumpled the tissue that I’d been squeezing in my hand, wiped my eyes, and gave her my full attention.

  She stood up and stretched. ‘I need to get out of here. I was hoping my Plaza guy might hook up with me again tonight. He’s a big spender, you know. Got lots of money. I think those Israelis have, though.’ She gave me a knowing look. ‘Brings his own drink with him, as well, whenever I see him. He likes some weird, expensive cognac shit.’

  ‘Yes, but did they say if Ibrahim was alive? What happened to the statue? And what about…’ I trailed off, my brain suddenly registering what she’d just said. ‘Huh?’ I frowned at her.

  ‘What, honey?’ She gave me a puzzled look.

  ‘Say that again. What did you just say about your Plaza guy who drinks expensive cognac?’ I stopped breathing, waiting for her to answer. Was she…could she be talking about Ferret Face? I gripped her arm, my wide eyes staring into hers. Of course! She had to be talking about him. Didn’t Ibrahim Kaya say that Jacob Podsheister was Israeli? The name sounded Israeli. And what about the yacht in the harbour? That was called The Israelite and it was owned by a Mr P. That must be the connection between him and Ferret Face. Maybe they knew each other from Israel. And Ferret Face drank Courvoisier. It had to be him that she was talking about. A fiery heat of anticipation and excitement swept over me. Maybe she had some information that could help the police find him. ‘What does he look like?’