Six Pack of Sleuths: Comedy Mysteries

by Barbara Silkstone

  ‘What’s that?’ Julio pointed to a table top patio heater I’d recently bought.

  ‘A patio heater,’ I said, climbing off the container with it.

  They looked at each other, glanced up at the scorching sun, and burst out laughing. ‘In Cyprus? Ha-ha.’

  I was just about to say that I could use it in winter and then thought about Kalem telling me to leave the talking to him, so I just smiled at them. I didn’t want to get arrested for smuggling custard creams into the country on top of everything else. I admit that I did have a teensy habit of letting my mouth run away with me sometimes, so maybe it was for the best if I just kept schtum.

  Julio peered at one of the larger boxes, checking the number on it. He ran a finger down the inventory list to check what the contents were listed as. ‘Gas barbeque,’ he said, glancing up at us. ‘Is this a barbeque?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said, avoiding Kalem’s eyes.

  ‘No,’ Kalem said at the same time.

  Kalem looked at me, puzzled. ‘But we haven’t got a barbeque. I knew I should have done the inventory myself. Let me have a look at the list, there must be some mistake.’ Kalem held his hand out to Julio, so he could inspect the inventory list.

  Julio ignored his hand and frowned. ‘Open it.’

  ‘Yes, well, the thing is, we have actually got a gas barbeque.’ I pulled an embarrassed face at Kalem.

  ‘Why would we need a gas barbeque when we can cook on a natural charcoal barbeque? Or better still, we could cook in the traditional Cypriot clay oven that Mum and Dad have got in the garden,’ Kalem said to me, attacking the tape on the outside of the box with a utility knife.

  ‘I bought it as a surprise for you,’ I said. ‘You know – for our new al fresco lifestyle. It’s all bells and whistles.’

  ‘How much was it?’ Kalem asked me.

  I avoided his gaze. ‘Er…a few hundred pounds.’

  ‘How many is a few?’ Kalem said.

  ‘Well…slightly more than four hundred pounds.’

  Julio and Shorty stood around as Kalem opened the top of the box, revealing a supersized, top of the range gas barbeque, complete with an external wok ring looming up from the side like a giant steering wheel.

  ‘Four hundred pounds! On a barbeque? What, does it convert into a sit on lawnmower? Or a golf buggy?’ Kalem pointed to the wok ring. ‘Or maybe it’s a satellite dish.’

  ‘OK, no need to get funny about it,’ I huffed. ‘I thought it would be a nice surprise.’

  ‘That doesn’t look like a barbeque.’ Julio suddenly looked more serious and official. ‘What’s that?’ He pointed to the wok ring as well. ‘A steering wheel?’

  ‘It does look like a golf buggy.’ Shorty tried to turn the wok ring around and around, as if he was trying to steer it.

  ‘No! It’s a wok ring,’ I cried.

  Shorty and Julio exchanged puzzled looks.

  ‘It could be a satellite dish,’ Julio said to Shorty. ‘You have to pay extra for electrical equipment.’ He got a calculator out of his pocket and started working out how much import tax we’d have to pay. ‘That will be two thousand lira tax for a satellite dish.’

  ‘Two thousand lira!’ I said. ‘But it’s not a satellite dish or a golf buggy. It’s a barbeque!’

  ‘Well, so far the barbeque will have cost us an absolute fortune,’ Kalem said the word barbeque as if it were an imposter and only pretending to be one. ‘I thought we were supposed to be living the simple life.’

  ‘I thought it would be a nice surprise,’ I said, head down, staring at my feet.

  ‘OK, if it’s a barbeque, you give us a demonstration,’ Julio said to me.

  ‘Right. OK. No problem at all.’ Then hopefully we could get this little misunderstanding cleared up and get on with things. ‘I just need a wok.’ I looked at Julio’s copy of the inventory to see which box my wok was in. ‘There’s a box of pots and pans in here somewhere. I’ll just grab one of those, and we can be cooking with gas,’ I quipped, then noticed their serious faces. ‘So to speak.’

  Oh, no. Wait a minute. I had a mental head-slapping moment. The custard creams were in the pots and pans box. I couldn’t draw attention to those. They already thought we were importing bloody satellite dishes. I didn’t want to get into any more trouble.

  ‘Hmm. Probably best if I get a wok from inside the house. Your mum and dad must have one in the kitchen. I’ll be right back.’ I zoomed off the back of the container like a spaceship in sight of Area 51.

  By the time I’d rummaged around in all the cupboards, Julio, Shorty, and Kalem had lugged the barbeque into the garden and hooked it up to the gas bottle that was connected to the kitchen cooker.

  ‘Da-da!’ I waved a wok around. ‘Here we go.’

  After a demonstration that Jamie Oliver would have been proud of, they finally let us carry on with unloading the boxes, and a sweaty forty-five minutes later, we were down to a few boxes at the back of the container.

  Shorty pointed to one of the boxes. ‘There is a hole in that one.’

  I climbed into the container to get a better look. He was right. There was a hole. And it looked like something had scratched or gnawed its way through.

  Urgh! Rats. I bet we had a rat somewhere in the container when we loaded it up. Just my luck! I hoped it hadn’t chewed up all my clothes or the sofa or done a plop in my knickers or – agh! I noticed my scrawled label stuck on the box. Shit. It was the pots and pans box. Help! They were going to find the custard creams.

  Shorty and Julio climbed aboard.

  ‘Open it up,’ Julio said.

  Oh, no. Not good. I slowly bent down and undid the packing tape, wondering how many years I’d get for this. This was it. I was going to be arrested and hauled off to jail.

  Shorty leaned over my shoulder as I opened the box.

  I held my breath.

  He rummaged around inside. Amongst the saucepans and frying pans, he found twenty-eight packets of empty custard cream wrappers.

  He narrowed his eyes and said something to Julio in Turkish.

  Kalem jumped on board. ‘Everything OK?’

  Shorty turned around to Kalem, waving a custard cream wrapper at him in a vaguely threatening manner. ‘What’s this?’

  And that’s when I heard a funny squeaky noise from behind the other boxes.

  I ran to the opposite end of the container. ‘Rat!’ I pointed a shaky finger. ‘Rat!’

  Julio moved the other boxes out of the way. Shorty and Kalem huddled around to get a better look.

  ‘What?’ I yelled. ‘Is it a rat?’

  Kalem slowly bent down and picked something up from the floor. He turned around to show me what he was holding. In his arms, he had a skinny bundle of grey, fluffy fur, which looked suspiciously like our previous next door neighbour’s cat.

  The poor thing was obviously worn out and must have been severely dehydrated. Well, I suppose I would be as well, stuck in a container for several weeks with no water and only the custard creams to eat. It looked at me with sad, fragile-looking eyes, and made a funny squeak, like it had lost its meow.

  My hand flew to my face. ‘Oh, my god!’ I walked towards Kalem. ‘It looks like Smoky, our old neighbour’s cat. He must’ve climbed in the container when we were loading it up.’ I stroked his soft fur and thought I could just about make out a faint purr. ‘We need to get him to the vet as soon as possible.’

  Shorty and Julio were having some sort of hushed conversation. Now I was probably going to get arrested for cat and custard cream smuggling, but I didn’t care. I might be able to live with that – well, OK, maybe not – but I couldn’t cope with knowing that poor Smoky might die, and I would be responsible for murdering my neighbour’s innocent cat.

  ‘You take it to the vet and come back.’ Julio pointed at me with a stern look on his face. ‘Do you know where one is?’

  I shook my head.

  ‘My wife is a vet in Kyrenia. You go there.’ Julio rattled off some directions to
me.

  Kalem quickly emptied one of the final boxes and placed Smoky’s feather-light body inside. I carried him to the Land Rover, praying it wouldn’t pack up again.

  It started first time. Hurrah!

  I drove like a maniac to the vet, beeping the horn, and doing a few scary overtaking manoeuvres. Luckily, the vet was in reception when I arrived and ushered me straight into the treatment room.

  The vet reached into the box and examined him. ‘What happened?’

  ‘He was stuck in our container from the UK. He had twenty-eight packets of custard creams to eat, but no water in there.’

  She nodded. ‘He’s severely dehydrated and has lost a lot of body weight. You get condensation in the metal containers. He probably would’ve licked the walls, but it’s not enough. I need to get him on an IV drip straight away.’ She grabbed a cannula from a nearby draw. ‘You can leave him here. I’ll call you when he’s well enough to go home. Leave your details with the receptionist.’

  ‘So you think he’ll be OK?’

  ‘I’m pretty sure after a few days on the drip he’ll be a lot better.’

  ‘Oh, thank you! Thank you!’ I left the vet’s after giving them my contact details and rushed back to face the music.

  Maybe I wouldn’t be arrested, I thought as I came up the hill to the house. Maybe I’d just be deported, which was actually quite a welcome idea at the moment. But…hang on a minute, where was everybody? I noticed the lorry and car had gone.

  ‘Kalem?’ I jumped out the Land Rover and rushed into the house.

  Maybe Kalem had been arrested for aiding and abetting an international biscuit smuggling ring, and they were holding him hostage to make sure I turned myself in.

  ‘Hi, how was Smoky?’ Kalem looked up from hauling a box into one of the bedrooms.

  ‘The vet thinks he’ll be OK. What happened to the customs men?’ I lowered my voice to a whisper. ‘Are they hiding in wait for me?’

  He chuckled. ‘They’ve gone. Luckily for us, that singer, Jayde, is arriving on a flight soon, and they got called back to the airport for reinforcements, in case there are any rowdy paparazzi there.’

  I clutched my chest. Thank God. I’d just been saved by a superstar. I vowed to buy every single one of her records as soon as I got the chance.

  ‘But what did they say about Smoky or the custard creams?’ I flopped down in a chair. ‘Oh, no. I get it. They’re coming back later to arrest me, aren’t they?’ I squeezed my eyes shut, waiting for Kalem to give me all the horrible details. ‘It’s OK. You don’t have to break it to me gently. Just spit it out and get it over with.’

  ‘Julio’s sister rang him when you left the vet’s to say that if it hadn’t been for your custard creams, the poor cat would have starved to death. Julio decided to overlook the incident because he felt sorry for Smoky. Count your lucky stars that he’s an animal lover.’ He kissed me on the nose and put the box on top of a mountain of others.

  ‘Well, that’s a relief.’ My hand flew to my chest. ‘Smoky should be OK, but how are we going to tell his owner that his cat is about two and a half thousand miles away from home? Poor thing.’

  ‘I’ll give them a ring in a minute.’

  ‘Where’s Ayshe?’ I asked.

  He nodded towards the terrace. ‘Asleep on the sunbed.’

  ‘How did she manage to sleep through all that palaver?’ I shook my head. ‘Right, now that’s all sorted out, we need to get on with Operation Find Ferret Face.’

  ‘I just spoke to Charlie on the phone. He hasn’t had any luck finding him.’

  ‘Great.’ My face crumpled. ‘The trouble is, he could be absolutely anywhere.’

  ‘He’s going to meet you back at our hotel for some lunch before you go back to the Plaza with him and carry on looking. Like you said before, I can’t come with you because he’ll recognize me from the airport, and it might tip him off, so I’ll stay here and sort out some of these boxes. Do you want me to dig out some of your clothes?’ He scratched his head, staring at the daunting mountain of boxes everywhere.

  ‘Yes, please.’

  ‘OK.’ He stood in front of me and rested his arms on my shoulders, giving me a serious look. ‘And if you do find him, ring me. I don’t want you doing anything crazy or stupid that’s going to jeopardize your safety.’

  ‘Absolutely. And we need to synchronize watches.’ I glanced at my watch.

  He frowned. ‘Why?’

  ‘I don’t know, but I saw it in a spy film once.’ We adjusted our watches until they were both showing the same time down to the very second. I didn’t know exactly what it would achieve, but it sounded proactive.

  ‘What about Ayshe?’ I peered through the patio door to check she was still asleep.

  ‘She can stay here with me and sleep. I think the heat is affecting her pregnancy more than she’s letting on. She looks wiped out.’

  ‘I’m going to sleep for a week when this is all over.’ I rolled my eyes to the sky.

  The only problem was… would I still be alive?

  Chapter 11

  I met Charlie at the poolside bar of our hotel. No, actually, I rendezvoused with him (also saw that in spy film).

  I’d asked him to wear something inconspicuous to stakeout the Plaza in search of Ferret Face, but his idea of inconspicuous was not wearing pink. Instead, he had on a lime-green pair of cut-off trousers and a canary-yellow T-shirt with the words Sex Goddess on the front.

  ‘I couldn’t wait for you to eat. All this running around the Plaza has given me an appetite.’ He tucked into a plate piled high with moussaka and rice mixed with noodles.

  I ordered an iced coffee and a hellim cheese salad when the harassed waitress came over.

  ‘So, no luck finding Ferret Face, then?’ I asked.

  ‘No.’

  My eyes wandered around the pool area. Lots of people sunbathing, leisurely swimming, and tucking into bright-coloured cocktails at the bar. It wasn’t fair. That’s what I should be doing as well.

  ‘He must have an accomplice, but we don’t know who he is either,’ I said. ‘Oh, Charlie, what are we going to do?’ I slumped down in my chair.

  ‘Well, if it was me, I’d hide and not come out until Christmas,’ he said through a mouthful of rice.

  ‘Thanks for that helpful suggestion.’

  ‘Or get on the next plane back to the UK.’

  I glanced up at him. ‘That has actually crossed my mind. I’m not even sure if I want to live here after all this. It hasn’t exactly been what I was expecting.’

  ‘What? I love it here! Well…apart from the shops. Imagine never being able to nip down to a huge shopping centre to buy clothes.’

  ‘That’s exactly what I thought. Do you think that’s shallow and materialistic?’ I said as the waitress brought my order.

  Charlie pouted at me. ‘You’re talking to the queen of shallow here, so I’m probably not the best person to ask, really. But,’ he raised his forefinger in the air, ‘that’s what living in a hustling-bustling city does for you. It’s constantly drummed into us that we have to spend, spend, spend to be happy. And, of course, everything is convenient, too. I mean, what would I do without internet shopping, for God’s sake? Order your groceries in the morning and two hours later, hey presto – they’re being delivered to your door! And what about our supermarkets or DIY shops? Having everything you could possibly need under one roof. Whoever thought of that is a genius!’ He finally paused for a breath.

  I shook my head. ‘No internet shopping here, I’m afraid. They’re lucky if they have an internet connection half the time, apparently.’ I forked a piece of rocket and tomato into my mouth.

  ‘Ew. Very Seventies.’ He screwed up his face. ‘I think they need my fabulous computer programming skills over here.’ He grinned. ‘Well, maybe if it’s a slower pace of life here, you won’t be able to rely on the convenience factor, like in the UK, anymore. It might take you a bit longer to get things done, but,’ he shrugged, ‘tha
t’s the sacrifice, I suppose, for living the dream. I mean, being here is like stepping back in time, which doesn’t necessarily have to be a bad thing.’

  ‘Well, yes, there are some fantastic things here, but I’m not sure if I’m cut out for the simple life. Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t want it to be a mini UK in the sun. I just thought it was going to be more…more cosmopolitan and modern. And I can’t tell Kalem. He wants to find another job and stay here.’

  ‘OK, so what did you expect when you moved to North Cyprus?’

  ‘Well, when Kalem asked me, it was at the same time that he proposed. So of course I was excited. I had a vision in my mind of moving from the gloomy UK to sunny Europe. Kind of like a Shirley Valentine moment, I suppose. Of course I’ve done lots of research in the last six months, so I knew it was going to be unspoiled and not like the commercial holiday destinations that I’ve been to before. But I’m a city girl. And a shopaholic.’ I prodded a piece of hellim. ‘How am I going to get to wear my Jimmy Choos when I’m up to my ears in olive picking and mucking out chickens? And I didn’t know that some of it was going to be so…so basic. I found out that they don’t even have a postal service. How weird is that?’

  ‘No postal service? Hmm.’ He thought about this for a second. ‘What about takeaway delivery?’

  ‘Oh, they have that. Just not out in the sticks where we’ll be living.’

  He waved a dismissive hand. ‘Actually that might be quite nice, not getting any junk mail. I’m fed up with getting bloody leaflets asking me if I want Viagra. I mean, honestly, do I look like I need it?’ He wiggled his hips. ‘How could this perfect specimen need Viagra?’ He took a sip of gin and tonic and lounged back in his chair, eyeing me carefully. ‘It’s just different here, that’s all.’ He shrugged. ‘And, anyway, some of it is cosmopolitan and modern. You’ve got the big, fancy hotels, haven’t you? OK, some things might be a smidgen basic, and they still like to do things in the old traditional Cypriot way, but I think it’s quite quaint, and it actually makes this place unique. It’s just a case of taking a bit of time to get used to it, that’s all.’ He leaned forward and pointed his fork at me. ‘OK. What’s the worst that could happen if you stay?’