Six Pack of Sleuths: Comedy Mysteries

by Barbara Silkstone

  ‘We need to speak to you about something of national security.’ Thankfully, Kalem took over.

  ‘Well, come into my office,’ Erol said.

  I closed by gaping mouth sharpish. I think I might’ve been dribbling a bit as well, so I surreptitiously wiped the corner of my lips as I followed Kalem into the elegant room.

  ‘Tea or coffee?’ he asked after we all sat down.

  At least he was being polite. Maybe he’d turned over a new leaf. Yes, that was it. Everything would be fine. Perfectly fine.

  ‘Just water for me, please,’ I croaked.

  ‘No, thanks,’ Kalem said.

  Erol pressed an intercom on his desk and ordered a glass of water, then lounged back in his leather chair, steepling his fingers. ‘So, a matter of national security? That certainly sounds intriguing. Well, in my role as Secretary for the President, I also deal with all security matters so you’ve come to the right place.’ He eyed the suitcase that Kalem set down on the floor. ‘You’re not planning on moving in, are you?’ He chuckled at his own joke. Kalem and I didn’t share his amusement, so he carried on. ‘But what could you possibly know about national security?’

  ‘We’ve discovered a plot to assassinate Ibrahim Kaya and steal his Queen Cleopatra sculpture at the opening night of the Plaza hotel,’ I reeled off in a garbled rush.

  Erol cut his eyes from Kalem to me. He stayed silent for a while, and then: ‘Really?’ He examined me like I’d suddenly sprouted two heads. ‘Funny, you always were a drama queen at school, weren’t you? A plot, you say. Sounds very far-fetched.’

  ‘Yes, a plot to steal the sculpture and murder Ibrahim Kaya,’ Kalem repeated it in a more forceful voice so it might sink in. I could tell he was getting a bit annoyed now. Hell, so was I.

  Erol threw his head back and laughed. Well, it was more like a cackle, actually. ‘OK, let me just humour this ridiculous suggestion for a moment.’ He waved a dismissive hand like he was swatting a fly. ‘I’ve personally been in charge of all the security arrangements for the opening night. There is absolutely no possibility whatsoever that what you are trying to suggest can happen. For a start, the sculpture will be displayed in a reinforced glass case. The outside of the glass case will be covered in a shell of censored laser beams, unseen to the naked eye. If even one ray is breached by someone trying to tamper with the casing, an alarm will sound, triggering an impenetrable steel case to enclose the sculpture. But there will be no opportunity to tamper with it, anyway, because it will be surrounded by four armed and highly trained guards. ‘No. There is no way it can happen. No one can access the electronic security system that controls the case except Ibrahim Kaya and myself.’

  ‘What about the assassination?’ Kalem asked.

  Erol glared back at him. ‘Why would anyone want to assassinate Ibrahim Kaya? He is a respected businessman who employs millions of people and gives to numerous charities.’

  ‘But there were rumours about him being involved in the underworld. Maybe he’s upset a few people?’ Kalem suggested.

  ‘There are rumours about all sorts of people,’ Erol said. ‘There were rumours about me, if you remember.’

  Yes, but personally, I could believe the rumours about Erol.

  ‘And look where I am today.’ Erol smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. ‘Anyway, Kaya will have his own personal security guards nearby. He is very security conscious. He will not make himself any kind of target.’

  I sat forward in my chair. ‘But what about the safety of the other people there? What about all the guests?’

  ‘The opening night will be full of international celebrities, politicians, and high-rollers, most of whom will probably have their own personal bodyguards. You would be a fool, Helen, if you thought any of them could be targeted.’

  Miss Nail File entered the room with a glass of water. She practically threw it at me as she rushed to get back out. Probably more urgent filing to attend to.

  Erol sat upright and began shuffling papers on his desk. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have very important work to do.’

  ‘Wait! We have evidence.’ I unzipped the suitcase and handed Erol the photo of Ibrahim Kaya, the building plans of the Plaza, the scribbled notes about the art dealer, and the itinerary. ‘When we arrived at the airport last night, there was a mix-up with my suitcase. I accidentally picked up this suitcase, and the owner of this case picked up mine. We’ve found some disturbing things inside.’

  Erol snatched them from me, studied each item briefly, then discarded them on his desk. ‘This probably belongs to one of the many journalists who will be arriving here for the press coverage. Mere background information for their story,’ he scoffed, like we should really know better.

  ‘But there are details about the sculpture on there and directions to an art dealer over the border in South Cyprus. Why would a journalist need those?’ I asked.

  Erol shrugged. ‘Maybe they’re getting some further background information on the statue. Research into its value and so forth. Nothing seems amiss to me.’ He tapped the side of his head and looked at me. ‘I think it’s that overactive imagination of yours running wild again.’

  And then a thought struck me. Had Kalem and I jumped to some irrational conclusion about the suitcase, when really it was just a simple matter of background information gathered by a journalist? Had we been overreacting?

  ‘There’s something else in the suitcase as well that you should know about.’ Kalem’s voice interrupted my doubtful thoughts, pulling out the shoulder pad and balaclava and putting them on Erol’s desk.

  Erol picked up the shoulder pad, turning it over in his hand. Then he turned his attention to the balaclava. ‘A money belt and a balaclava? Hardly evidence of an assassination.’

  ‘It’s not a money belt. It’s a shoulder pad. For a gun,’ I said, sipping the icy water that burned my parched throat.

  No, when you put it all together, our conclusion didn’t seem irrational at all. When you considered all the evidence, the only conclusion could be the one we’d come up with. So why couldn’t Erol see it as well?

  Erol shrugged. ‘It will be hunting season in North Cyprus in a few months. Some people prefer using a shoulder pad for comfort when they’re hunting.’

  ‘But what about the balaclava? Surely, this all seems suspicious to you?’ Kalem insisted.

  ‘Not really. Hunters sometimes use balaclavas as well.’

  ‘Yes, but–’ I started, feeling my back stiffen.

  Erol’s hand shot up, silencing me. ‘Enough! I don’t want to hear any more about ridiculous death threats and robberies. The matter is under complete control.’ He paused and did the steepling thing with his fingers again, which was getting a bit annoying. ‘Actually, I’m more interested in what you two are doing in North Cyprus.’ Erol glanced between the two of us. ‘The last thing I heard, you were teaching some peculiar art subject,’ he shot narrow eyes to Kalem, ‘and you were the tea lady in a photo shop.’ He turned his attention to me.

  I took a deep breath. Right, he was really pissing me off now. Mr. Bloody High-and-Mighty President’s Secretary, who was a complete arsehole at school – and a nasty arsehole to boot – and still seemed to be a complete arsehole. This was my wedding day we were talking about. I had to get this mess sorted out before I got married on Sunday so I could get my lucky wedding dress back. And if I didn’t get it sorted out, and a crime really did happen, then it would all be my fault for not trying my hardest to warn people.

  And they had to find Ferret Face and catch him. What if he was still roaming the streets looking for us? Knowing that we knew that he knew that we knew that he knew? Regardless of the mental for and against lists I was building about whether moving here was the right thing to do, how could we even think about staying here to start a new life in paradise if Ferret Face was out there? Watching. Planning an ambush on us. Waiting to do ferrety things.

  ‘Actually, I’m a wedding photographer. And Kalem’s a very soug
ht-after sculpture and woodcarving teacher. In fact, his own works of art have been exhibited in many national exhibitions.’ OK, that last bit was a little white lie, but he wasn’t to know that. I gave Kalem a beaming smile. Kalem gave me a small shake of his head, as if to tell me to shut up. ‘And, I might add, he’s now been head-hunted by a university here in North Cyprus to teach and found a new research department on historical sculpture.’ I sat back in the chair with a smug smile on my face. Take that, Mr. High and Mighty!

  Erol tapped his forefinger on the desk. ‘Interesting. Which university?’

  ‘The Cyprus University of Architecture and Ancient Art,’ Kalem said.

  ‘Sounds a bit of a prestigious position for a sculpture and woodcarving teacher,’ Erol said.

  ‘Well, my specialist subjects are actually rare and ancient artworks and sculptures. But there’s not much call for that in the UK.’

  Erol considered this for a while. ‘Well, enough of this nonsense.’

  ‘There’s something else in the case, as well, that you should be aware about,’ Kalem said.

  Erol sighed impatiently. ‘Really? And what’s that? Suntan lotion? Sunglasses? Speedos?’ He raised his hands in mock horror. ‘A plot to enjoy a holiday!’ He shook his head.

  Ooh. I was this close to boiling point now. ‘Right.’ I dumped all the clothes on the floor and opened the false bottom of the case. Removing the carbon paper, I pointed to the wads of hundred dollar notes underneath. ‘What about this, then? You don’t think this is in the least bit suspicious?’

  That got his attention rather quickly.

  Erol’s eyes nearly pinged out of his head. He stood up, walked around the desk and waste paper bin next to it, and bent down in front of the case. He stared at the money, then picked up a bundle and sniffed it. He examined it carefully. Then another one. Then another.

  ‘There’s half a million dollars inside,’ Kalem said.

  ‘Well, this puts a slightly different slant on things,’ Erol said, unable to take his eyes off the money.

  ‘So we can leave it all with you, and you’ll investigate it?’ I asked hopefully.

  ‘Hmm?’ Erol sniffed another bundle, seemingly oblivious to our presence.

  ‘You’ll investigate it? The plot to steal the sculpture and kill Ibrahim Kaya,’ Kalem said, slightly louder.

  ‘Yes. Yes of course I’ll investigate it.’ Erol slammed the lid of the case shut and zipped it up. ‘Leave everything to me.’ He walked back around to his side of the desk and sat down. ‘You don’t have to worry about a thing.’

  ‘Well, there was actually something else. You see, we’re getting married on Sunday, and my wedding dress was in the suitcase that this other man picked up. I need to get my dress back. When you investigate, can you make sure you get my wedding dress back? It’s very important.’

  ‘Of course! Of course. No problem at all,’ he said, suddenly all helpful and polite. ‘Where are you staying?’

  ‘At the Ottoman Hotel,’ Kalem said.

  Erol stood up and nodded towards the door, indicating we were dismissed. ‘Don’t worry about a thing. I’ll look into everything straight away.’

  ‘Great.’ I stood up too. ‘Thanks very much.’

  As Kalem and I strode towards the door, I sneaked a glance over my shoulder just before I pulled it closed behind me and saw Erol depositing the building plans, itinerary, photo, and note into the waste paper bin.

  ****

  ‘What are we going to do now?’ I flopped down onto a bench outside the building. ‘If it was someone else, maybe they might’ve listened to us.’ I leaped from the bench and paced up and down. ‘Erol bloody Hussein, of all people. He’s thrown all the evidence in the bin. Well, all the evidence apart from the money. He’s not even going to bother investigating this, is he? I should’ve known he couldn’t change.’

  ‘Arrogant bastard. I don’t understand why he’s still carrying on this grudge thing he’s got against me.’ It was Kalem’s turn to start pacing now.

  ‘It’s been going on for years,’ I said. ‘He should have grown out of it by now. We’re not exactly kids in the playground anymore, are we?’

  ‘It goes back further than that. His dad and my dad did their military service together when they were about sixteen, and they were best friends. I don’t know what happened; Dad would never talk about it, but he had some kind of fall out with Erol’s dad. I guess that’s when it all began. And Erol has just carried on some kind of grudge because of it.’

  ‘So what are we going to do?’ I glanced up at the building behind, suddenly having a creepy feeling that Erol was watching us from his office window.

  Maybe he’d even bugged us somehow. Since I wasn’t exactly experienced in murder and art theft, I didn’t know how these things worked. Maybe Miss Nail File had put a bug in my water, and it was floating around in my stomach. Although I suspected the only thing they’d be hearing at the moment was a nervous, churning sound.

  ‘You’re right,’ Kalem said. ‘If he’s thrown everything in the bin, he’s not going to bother to investigate things. I know what he’s like. I bet he’ll just keep the money instead.’ He ran a hand over his closely cropped hair.

  ‘Come on. I don’t want to sit here.’ I grabbed Kalem’s arm and pulled him towards the car. ‘I think we’ve got no choice but to go to the police and report it to them after all. We’ll just tell them we’ve handed all the evidence over to Erol. Then we can get on with our lives. They can’t just ignore us as well if we’re reporting a crime, can they?’

  Yes, that was it. The police would investigate. They’d find Ferret Face and stop any crime happening. Then they’d find my wedding dress, and I could concentrate on enjoying the rest of my new life here. Simple.

  An oppressive weight suddenly lifted from my shoulders as Kalem started the engine.

  ****

  Five traffic lights, four roundabouts, and another dual-carriage way later – a good sign for cosmopolitan, modern countryishness; would add to list – we pulled up outside the police station.

  I was out of the car and almost at the entrance before Kalem even locked it. I wanted to get this horrible task over with as soon as possible.

  ‘Wait,’ Kalem called to me as I stepped into the entrance. ‘I left my mobile phone in the Land Rover. I’ll just grab it in case someone needs to get hold of us.’ He walked back towards the vehicle.

  But I couldn’t wait. I was just about to walk up to the front desk on my right, staffed by two middle-aged policemen drinking Turkish coffee, when something down a hallway in the distance caught my eye.

  No. It couldn’t be. Was it? I squinted, trying to get a better look. Yes! It was!

  My eyelids flipped wide open, and I stood, rooted to the spot like someone had just used industrial strength Superglue on my feet.

  The air was hot, but I felt icy cold.

  It was him – Ferret Face – in the distance, having a very cosy chat with a tall policeman wearing glasses. Actually, judging by the amount of gold stars on his epaulettes and shirt sleeves, it looked like he was a pretty high-up policeman.

  I watched as they leaned in close to each other, murmuring something. Ferret Face had an intense look of concentration on his face. He nodded a few times, whispered something back, then did a furtive glance around the hall to see if anyone was nearby. That’s when he caught my eye.

  Agh! Quick! Move!

  My heart danced around in my chest. Act normal! Act normal!

  I waved at the policeman behind the front desk, as if I knew him. ‘Goodbye, thanks for your help,’ I said to the policeman, who gave me a peculiar look.

  Then I managed to place one foot in front of the other, ambling calmly out of the station like I didn’t have a care in the world. Like I hadn’t just stared evil in the face.

  I nearly bumped into Kalem coming in the door. ‘Quick! We’ve got to go,’ I hissed at him.

  ‘What? Why? We just got here.’

  ‘Quick! Ferret
Face is in there.’ I yanked his arm in the direction of the car before Ferret Face spotted Kalem.

  Chapter 6

  ‘I need a coffee – no, I need something stronger. A glass of wine. Or even a bottle. Maybe five bottles,’ I said to Kalem when we arrived back at our hotel room.

  I shrugged off my handbag and stepped onto the balcony, staring out into the endless deep blue Mediterranean. It was completely still, resembling a sheet of navy coloured ice, and looked so inviting. So pure and natural and uncomplicated. All I wanted to do was dive in and swim away to anywhere but here. It was about forty miles from here to the tip of Turkey. How long would it take me to swim there and disappear, far out of reach from Ferret Face? Would my arms fall off from too much front crawl, or would I get eaten by sharks and end up as fish food?

  ‘I’ll order some room service.’ Kalem’s voice dragged me out of my escapist thoughts and brought me charging back to reality.

  ‘I need a cigar as well.’

  ‘You don’t smoke!’

  ‘Well, occasionally I do, when I’m really stressed.’ I gave him a sheepish look. ‘And I know it’s weird, but I’m feeling REALLY FUCKING STRESSED! Oh, God. I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to shout, but it feels like our whole world is falling apart.’

  ‘O…K. I see your point. I’ll order some.’ Kalem managed a grim smile and ordered the supplies.

  I stared out to sea, contemplating the disastrous couple of days so far. What the hell were we going to do now? How were we supposed to save the sculpture, Ibrahim Kaya, and have the perfect wedding and live happily ever after? At the moment, it didn’t seem possible.

  A chill of fear clutched at my heart. How could we ever survive this?

  Someone knocked at the door with a loud bang.

  I jumped. My heartbeat clanged around like an orchestra. I was definitely going to have a heart attack at this rate.

  ‘Only me!’ Charlie barged in as Kalem opened the door. ‘How did it go?’ He sat next to me. ‘I want to hear all about it. Ayshe and Atila are on their way.’ After observing my pained look, Charlie gave my hand a quick squeeze.