‘No!’
‘There’s been a power cut,’ Yasmin yelled from the bottom of the corridor. ‘The water pump doesn’t work when there’s a power cut.’
‘How long will it be off for?’ I wiped away some of the conditioner that had now wormed its way into my eyes and was stinging like hell.
‘I don’t know. It could be hours.’
‘But I need to wash this stuff off now!’
‘You’ll have to jump in the swimming pool.’ Yasmin’s voice echoed out to me. ‘That’s the only way to get it off in a hurry. It might not come back on for ages.’
I tried the tap again, frantically turning it on and off until it fell off in my hand.
Shit!
So there I was, lathered and creamed to within an inch of my life – so to speak – with a tap in my hand, and it looked like I had no choice but to jump in the pool and rinse it all off.
‘Great.’ I screwed the tap back on through half open, slitty eyes and, not wanting to mess up any towels, I stomped naked down the corridor like someone who’d been to a foam party for three days straight.
By the time I’d got through the patio doors, my eyes felt they were on fire, and I had to keep them clamped shut. I took slow steps in the direction of where the pool was and stepped carefully in. Dunking myself underwater, I scrubbed at my hair and body to get the bloody stuff off. And when I finally resurfaced, I could open my eyes again.
‘Aggggggggggggggh!’ I screamed, clapping eyes on the Julio Iglesias customs guy at the other end of the garden, staring at me with his mouth wide open.
‘Aggggggggggggggh!’ he screamed back.
I covered up my bits and bobs under the water. How embarrassing! And what was he doing here, anyway? Not only had he seen me naked, but he was probably about to arrest me for offences under the Custard Cream Act. Oh, no. Please, no.
Yasmin and Ayshe rushed outside with a towel. Julio turned his back to me, so I could get out of the pool.
‘Who are you?’ Yasmin demanded.
I wrapped the towel tightly around me and took another from Ayshe to wrap up my dripping hair.
‘I’m from the customs office.’ He waved his hands in the air in surrender mode.
‘Are you here to arrest me?’ I cried at his back.
‘No. I’m making a delivery!’
‘A delivery?’ What the hell was he talking about? Was he just lulling me into a false sense of security, so he could cart me off on my wedding day?
‘What sort of delivery?’ Ayshe asked suspiciously.
‘The cat. He’s in a cage in the car.’
‘What cat?’ Yasmin looked at me, confused.
‘Er…we accidentally had our neighbour’s cat, Smoky, in our container.’
Yasmin’s hands flew to her face. ‘Oh! Animal smuggling is a serious offence,’ she whispered in my ear.
OK, OK, as if I don’t know that already. Don’t remind him!
‘My wife says he’s OK to come home now. So I’m bringing him back to you, that’s all. We managed to speak to his owner, and he doesn’t want Smoky to be put in quarantine if he’s sent back to England. He wants you to keep him here.’ He cautiously turned around, checking the coast was clear of nudey bits.
Oh, crap! This seemed to be turning into The Good Life after all. Still, poor little Smoky. He’d been through a horrible ordeal. It was the least I could do to pamper him with some tinned salmon and a cosy home. Now we had a ready made family of eight.
****
Oh, my God! I thought I was going to faint. When Ayshe, Yasmin, and I arrived at Bellapais Abbey in our ribboned horse drawn carriage, I couldn’t believe how amazing it looked.
The gardens in front of the abbey were decked out in white silk covered chairs for the ceremony, complete with bows and flowers on the back. The theme had continued in the restaurant beyond, styled in matching architecture, where our celebration meal would take place. Charlie was true to his word. No pink in sight.
Kalem, hovering at the front of the row of chairs, turned and caught my eye. He looked fabulicious in a black suit and white shirt with a cream and yellow frangipani flower tucked into the button hole. Ooh, just wait until later, Kalem, I’ll show you what to do with the tutti fruiti body paint.
He winked. I grinned.
Deniz sat behind Kalem, sipping from a mini-bar bottle of Jack Daniels. He spied Yasmin and quickly screwed it up and stuffed it in his suit pocket. Sitting next to him was Osman. Kuzu, with a silver lead and a silver bow on her collar, had her own chair in between him and Osman’s mum, who was wearing her own wedding dress, which had actually scrubbed up quite well. Still, it looked better on her than it would on me. Charlie animatedly showed the registrar how to put the tape in the tape deck and press the play button, ready for Love Me Tender to croon out as I walked up the aisle.
Ayshe, Yasmin, and I hovered at the entrance to the gardens, waiting for Charlie to appear and issue wedding plannerish instructions.
‘Yoo hoo!’ He waved a hand and hurried over to us. He planted a kiss on both cheeks, then stood back to examine me. ‘Super-freaking stunning!’
Charlie hadn’t followed the no-pink rule himself. Pink skin-tight trousers, satin pink shirt that I could only describe as shocking, pink scarf draped around his neck, and pink leather shoes – I dreaded to think where he got those from. Still, at least his hair wasn’t pink as well, like it was at Ayshe’s wedding.
‘Have you got the rings?’ I asked.
He patted his shocking pocket. ‘Check. Any other questions?’
‘Nope.’
‘Right.’ He clasped his hands together. ‘The registrar is ready and waiting. The tape of Love Me Tender by Elvis is all set to go. I’ve turned it up a bit because I think the sound may get lost in the acoustics of all these arches and corridors in the abbey. When you hear it, just walk through the archway to us and up the aisle. It’s all up to you now. Let your perfect wedding begin. You ready?’
Hell, yeah! ‘Oh, yes. I’m so ready.’
Charlie beckoned Deniz forward to come up and take my arm, as he was giving me away.
‘You look wonderful!’ Deniz smiled at me. ‘Exactly like a French Fancy!’
If anyone else had said that, I would’ve been insulted. But Deniz thought that was a compliment, so I just gave him a kiss on the cheek and smiled back.
Yasmin took her seat at the front next to Osman. Ayshe squeezed my hand and took up position as my maid of honour behind me. Charlie scuttled off and stood next to Kalem for best man duties.
Charlie nodded at me for approval.
I nodded back.
Deniz linked my arm.
‘And cue music.’ Charlie pointed to the registrar who hit the play button on the tape deck.
Like a bat out of hell I’ll be gone when the morning comes. When the night is over like a bat of hell I’ll be gone, gone, gone.
Yasmin fell off her chair at the sound of Meatloaf rocking out full blast from the speakers – ouch! Osman’s mum jumped half a foot in the air. Osman shielded Kuzu’s ears. Charlie flustered around, trying to find the off button. The registrar looked at everyone, bewildered, wondering if this was supposed to happen. And Kalem turned around to me with an amused smile.
Ayshe and I threw our heads back and roared with laughter. I’d come this far – a tiny mix-up with the wedding music wasn’t going to spoil anything now.
‘Sorry! Don’t panic, slight technical hitch.’ Charlie pulled out the tape, turned it around so it was playing the other side, and slotted it back in. ‘OK, this is the right track.’
Love me tender, love me do…
This was it. This was finally it.
I glided under the scented arches on Deniz’s arm with my best friend behind me and my nan smiling down at me. My green eyes were glued to Kalem’s brown ones.
Deniz positioned me next to Kalem and crushed me in a hug. Then he plonked himself down beside to Yasmin.
‘It gives me great pleasure to be here
today to join Kalem and Helen in marriage,’ the registrar began. ‘Love is one of the most important things in life, and we shouldn’t ever forget that.’ He glanced briefly at Charlie, who nodded to him. ‘I’ve been told that Helen and Kalem nearly didn’t make it to this day. They are lucky to be here, and it is thanks to their bravery and determination that they are. I want to wish them a long and happy life together. Now, Kalem, you have some vows to read?’
Kalem nodded and turned to face me. He took my hands in his, the heat from his fingertips permeating my whole being. He gazed deep into my eyes. ‘Helen, you are the only one who makes me whole. Because of you, I laugh, I smile, and I dare to dream again. You are breathtaking like a magical sunset. You are amazing like the night stars. You are spectacular like life itself. I vow to be true and faithful for as long as we both live,’ he paused for a beat. ‘Helen, I choose you. I need you. I love you.’
I gripped his hands tighter to stop my knees buckling at the weight of his words radiating love.
‘Now, Helen, if you will read your vows.’ The registrar turned to me.
Ayshe handed me the vows I’d rewritten late last night after thinking about our whole experience since we’d arrived here.
I took the piece of paper in one hand and held Kalem’s hand with the other, gazing into his eyes. Slowly, I read…
‘Kalem, you are my sunlight, my water, and my air. Wherever you go, I will always be with you. Whatever possessions in the world I have, nothing can compare to your love. You are what makes my life perfect and whole. You are, quite simply, my life. I promise to treasure you, love you, and be faithful to you as long as we both live.’
Kalem squeezed my hand, blinking his damp eyes.
‘And now, Kalem, Helen, it gives me great pleasure to pronounce you man and wife.’ The registrar smiled at us. ‘You may kiss the bride.’
Kalem slid his arms around my waist and pressed his lips to mine.
****
Much later, after the confetti had settled, I stared up at the stars as Kalem twirled me around to the sound of our first dance. The fragrant air mixed with the wine and excitement had made me lightheaded. The music stopped abruptly, but we were so lost in our own world that it took a moment to register.
Kalem stopped twirling me, and I came to a heady standstill.
I looked in the direction that everyone was now staring in.
A posse walked towards us, their expressions unreadable in the dark night. Ali, Ibrahim Kaya, two policemen, the President, and the red-eyed bodyguard walked towards us.
Yasmin’s glass froze mid-air.
Deniz downed his whisky in one glug.
Ayshe and Atila stared at them with worried looks.
Charlie gulped.
What now?
Deniz rose from his chair. ‘Hang on a minute? What’s going on here? This is a wedding celebration.’
They stopped in front of Kalem and me. The red-eyed bodyguard gave us a squinty glare.
The President was first to speak. ‘Firstly, I want to congratulate you on your wedding. I extend you a warm welcome to North Cyprus. I’d like to thank you from the bottom of my heart for all you have done to save my good friend, Ibrahim Kaya. And I also want to applaud your efforts for trying to bring the heinous crime to our attention in the first place.’ He shook our hands.
My mouth hung open in shock.
‘I don’t know how I can ever repay you for saving my life, but I’d like to give you a small appreciation of gratitude.’ A pale Ibrahim Kaya, wearing a shoulder sling, smiled and handed us a hotel room key. ‘This is a key to the penthouse suite of the Plaza. I would like you to be my guest at the hotel for a two-week honeymoon, all-inclusive. And if there is ever anything else that I can do, please don’t hesitate to ask.’ He shook our hands using his good arm.
‘I have some excellent news for you.’ The President looked at Kalem. ‘I’ve had a discussion with the Principal at the Cyprus University of Architecture and Ancient Art, and there seems to have been a misunderstanding concerning the cancellation of your new post there. The Principal will be delighted and honoured to welcome you to their team as previously arranged.’
Kalem’s lips curled into a huge grin. ‘Wow! Thanks very much.’ He shook the President’s hand with enthusiasm, pumping it hard.
I glanced up at Kalem and smiled proudly. His dream job was going to be a reality again. Woo-hoo!
The President whispered something to one of the policemen. He nodded and scurried off.
‘I also have a wedding gift for you,’ the President said, smiling.
The policemen returned, carrying two suitcases. He set them down in front of us.
The President nodded to the cases. ‘Helen, I’m returning your missing suitcases. I hope everything is intact.’
Two suitcases? What was he talking about? I recognized my suitcase, but the other one? I’d never seen it before in my life.
I groaned inside. Not another mix-up. I didn’t want anyone else’s bloody suitcase. In fact, I doubted if I ever wanted to see a suitcase again for the rest of my life. I think I’d developed some sort of suitcase phobia now as well.
‘But I only had one suitcase,’ I said, puzzled.
The President paused for a beat, then he smiled at us. ‘Now you have two. Enjoy your happy life together in North Cyprus.’ He winked at us so quickly I couldn’t be sure if I’d actually imagined it or not, and they all departed, leaving us standing there open-mouthed.
Kalem and I stared at the rogue suitcase, not knowing what to say.
‘Whose case is that?’ Charlie bounded over.
‘Open it,’ Ayshe said.
‘I’m not opening it. Look what happened last time,’ I said.
‘Well, someone’s got to open it,’ Yasmin said.
I sighed. ‘OK, I’ll open it, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.’ I carefully unzipped it and flipped open the lid. ‘Oh. My. God.’ I closed the lid and zipped it up pretty damn quick.
‘Is that what I think it is?’ Ayshe said as everyone stared on in surprise.
I nodded, momentarily lost for words, which didn’t usually happen.
‘It’s full of dollars!’ Kalem stared at the case, mouth gaping, eyes huge. ‘I’m getting a sense of déjà vu here, Helen.’ He couldn’t take his eyes off the case.
I recovered my voice enough to speak. ‘It must be the money that was in Ferret Face’s suitcase when we handed it in to Erol. It looks like exactly the same amount that was in there.’ An excited giggle slipped out.
‘How much whisky could you buy with that?’ Deniz said.
I grabbed Kalem’s hand and gazed up at him with a huge grin locked firmly in place. ‘I think I’m going to enjoy the simple life after all.’
The End
About the Author
Sibel Hodge is an International Bestselling and Award Winning Author. She has 8 cats and 1 husband. In her spare time, she's Wonder Woman! When she's not out saving the world from dastardly demons she writes an eclectic mix of genres.
Her work has been shortlisted for the Harry Bowling Prize 2008, Highly Commended by the Yeovil Literary Prize 2009, Runner Up in the Chapter One Promotions Novel Comp 2009, nominated Best Novel with Romantic Elements in 2010 by The Romance Reviews, Runner Up in the Best Indie Books of 2012 by Indie Book Bargains, and Winner of Best Children's Book by eFestival of Words 2013. Her novella Trafficked: The Diary of a Sex Slave has been listed as one of the Top 40 Books About Human Rights by Accredited Online Colleges.
For her latest book releases, giveaways, and gossip, why not sign up to her newsletter at: http://www.sibelhodge.com/contact-followme.php
Sadie’s Guide to Catching Killers
(A Sadie Novella)
by
Zané Sachs
This is a work of fiction. Any similarities you imagine to people living or dead is purely coincidental (or delusional). If this problem persists, please contact your doctor for medical assistance. You may be suffering from psy
chosis, require psychiatric care, shock treatment and sedation.
SADIE’S GUIDE TO CATCHING KILLERS, Copyright©2014 by Zané Sachs
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Cover by Jeroen ten Berge
Formatting by Polgarus Studio
Introduction
Perhaps you met Sadie in my book, Sadie the Sadist: X-tremely Black Humor/Horror. This novella is a prekill to that story, and it explores Sadie’s childhood from age eight to seventeen. It’s a twisted tale, and hopefully you’ll find it darkly humorous.
Although this is a work of fiction, many children in this world suffer unspeakable abuse, mental and physical. That is truly horrifying. Marks left by fear and hate may be invisible to the eye, but the damage they cause can be severe. Wounds inflicted by uncaring words, unbridled anger, another person’s unhealed hurts, affect children and their children’s children, echoing like a tortured scream through generations.
Although this story contains black humor, and I wrote it to entertain you, I hope it casts some light on the despair many children suffer.
Murder One
(1991)
My study of murder began in third grade, three days after Thanksgiving, when my father offed my mother.
You might think committing the perfect murder requires practice, technique, thought. Daddy’s one skill is dumb luck. He’s a lousy criminal. Sloppy. Lazy. But, because Mommy took lots of pills (diagnosed bipolar), the cops called her death suicide.
I found her in the bathtub floating in a pool of blood.
I don’t think it affected me.
Not really.
I closed the bathroom door, went into the kitchen to make a turkey sandwich, then I turned on the TV. Not a flat screen. Back in 1991, when I was eight years old, we had a console full of toxic tubes spewing radiation into our living room.
Six Pack of Sleuths: Comedy Mysteries Page 57
