Cherry Twist – A new novel by Ms Stone
Huge thanks to Ms Stone for giving the Bubble a world exclusive extract from her new novel, ‘Cherry Twist’, the sequel to her superb first novel, ‘Cherry Slice.’ Both are available on Amazon. ‘Whodunnit fiction for the modern age’.
Prologue
Nadiya Slipchenko swirls her long, multi-layered flamenco gown in both hands. She throws a haughty look over her shoulder and walks away. Suddenly, Alexi Bondareyev runs after her and spins her round to face him. As the music increases in tempo, they both move more quickly. He flings her against the target board which has been brought on by two of the others. She writhes against it, appearing to beg for help. Alexi reaches behind him and pulls out three knives which he shows to the crowd who have gathered. He throws one of the knives at the board. It is meant to whistle past Nadiya’s head but instead she screams and clamps her hand to her ear. Already, dark red blood is seeping through her cupped fingers.
‘Stop!’ Chris Gordon, the producer, runs on along with several other people. The music continues. ‘I said stop! Nic, stop the music, mate.’
Eventually, the music dies away. Between her sobs, Nadiya hisses at Chris, ‘Can you not see? Someone has it in for me! This is no accident; they are trying to kill me.’
Alexi rushes over and says, ‘I do not understand how this has happened. This knife, it is supposed to be a false knife, it is a prop. It should not have cut you.’
One of the floor assistants runs over to the board where the slightly bloody knife is embedded in the target. He pulls it out and holds it aloft like a budget Excalibur. ‘It’s a real knife.’
Chris can’t believe his eyes; he walks over to the assistant and takes the knife from his hand. He feels the weight and the sharpness of the blade. The assistant is right. It is a real knife.
Nadiya is led away but as she goes she turns and says to Chris, ‘This is the second time, Chris. I want someone to investigate. I want her from The Caravan, with the cakes. How is she called? Cherry Hinton. You bring me Cherry Hinton or I will no longer dance for you on your programme.’
Chapter One
Kelsey and I were sitting in the green room of the set for Expose’s flagship programme The Dance is Right. We were well excited because we’d both spent many hours watching the programme and commenting on the performers from the comfort of various sofas. Chris Gordon, the producer, had invited me there as his guest because he had a proposition for me.
I told him that so long as it wasn’t yet another feeble attempt to get me to appear on one of his rubbish programmes, then I would consider coming along. Naturally, the minute I’d casually mentioned it to Kelsey, she’d bitten my arm off, so, here we were.
The green room overlooked the famous dance floor where professional dancers and celebrities (who were mainly a cast of people who’d appeared on other Expose shows) competed to guess the cost of various household items and dance in strangely themed routines such as ‘luggage week’. Chris Gordon had purchased the rights to The Price is Right and was looking for a way to revive the format and create a Saturday night ‘family-focused’ show to rival some of the major channels. Bizarrely, watching barely recognisable celebrities guessing the cost of a Zanussi washing machine with enhanced spin features before performing a jive inspired by said appliance was a huge hit.
Since it was a Thursday afternoon, there wasn’t really anyone around. The band were rehearsing at the side of the floor and a few men and women dressed in black with hipster hair and walkie talkies were flitting around putting down tape and chatting to one another.
‘’Ere, where are all dancers?’ demanded Kelsey through her mango smoothie. ‘I didn’t come all this way to see a band play the same eight bars ten times over. Where’s Belinda Price and Jason Devine?’
I was about to point out that I’d made no promises regarding the quality of the stars we might encounter during our visit when Kelsey grabbed my arm and hissed, ‘Look, look over there. It’s Nadiya Slipchenko – it’s actually her. Oh my God, she’s amazing.’
Into the bar walked a woman of almost perfect proportions. She was tall and slim; beneath her skin-tight black leotard and practice skirt, every muscle in her body seemed to ripple with supple expectation. Despite the fact her hair was scraped back into a severe bun and her face was make-up free, she had the kind of beauty that made you lean back and simultaneously regret leaving the house without a spare bag to put your head in. I really hoped that she was there just to get a drink and we could simply admire her from afar, but it seemed that she was making her way over.
‘Hello,’ she cried, almost in amazement, ‘I thought that Chris was pulling my arm when he said that he would get you here. I thought to myself, That man is a liar, but he has. You are here.’
‘Yes,’ I said awkwardly. ‘I’m here.’ I was none the wiser as to why someone like Nadiya would want my company. It seemed unlikely that Chris Gordon would have done anything that didn’t involve personal gain on his part. I really hoped that she wasn’t sleeping with him in some misguided belief that it would benefit her.
‘I am Nadiya Slipchenko. You are Miss Cherry Hinton, yes?’
‘Yes, pleased to meet you, Nadiya.’ I held out my hand awkwardly and she grasped it.
‘No, Miss Cherry Hinton, it is I who am pleased to meet you. I feel less scared already. This will help my dancing.’
Kelsey had been rendered mute by this exchange. I saw her just staring at Nadiya’s perfect skin, dazzled by its smoothness. I also could not think of anything helpful to say. I wasn’t sure what Chris had told her but I was unclear on how my presence would improve the world champion Latin and ballroom dancer’s ability to create a dance based on household linens and towels. She pressed on, ‘And you are now my friend so you must call me Nads.’
‘Righty ho! And you don’t need to, er, call me… call me Cherry. Cherry is fine.’ I was so smooth.
‘Ah, Cherry, Nads. There you are. You’ve met already I see.’ Chris Gordon’s oily voice rang out across the room and for the first time in my life, I was pleased to see him. He marched over and slid his hand down Nads’s back.
I saw a flicker of disgust move across her face before she broke into a smile. ‘Now, Chris, the others, they say you are a liar and that you will not pay for Miss Cherry Hinton but I say, no. Chris is a good man who want the best for his dancers. And I am right. I thank you for this.’ Then she leant forward and lightly kissed him just above his dry-looking beard. She had quite possibly practised avoiding the greasiest patches of skin around his nose as she seemed to home in on the one normal-looking bit of his face. ‘I must go and stretch. We will talk soon.’
I think that we all watched her walk away but I recovered most quickly. ‘So, Chris, what was that all about? How am I supposed to help the best dancer in the world? I’m sure you’ve not asked me here to share the secrets of my rumba.’
Kelsey snorted more loudly than was necessary and Chris grinned. ‘Ah well, no, it’s not your dancing I’m interested in right now, but you know, always looking for celebs to appear on the show.’
‘Chris, get to the point.’ I’d had quite enough of Chris’s antics when I met him earlier in the year and clashed with him over my investigation of a murder in the Big Blubber House. He was a dodgy producer then and from the looks of it, nothing much had changed.
Nadiya was down on the main dance floor now. She bent over gracefully and began stretching. I wished that I looked that good with my bum in the air. We all stood on the balcony,
mesmerised by Nadiya as she twisted, lunged and extended. She called something to the band leader and ‘Between the Sheets’ by The Isley Brothers started up. Of course, I reminded myself, it was household linens week. She began pacing out what was presumably her dance and I reluctantly turned back to Chris.
Chris scrubbed at his head and I fought the urge to slap his hands away.
‘Yes, yes, of course. Right, well, you know what these, er, creative types are like. Especially the, er, er, what’s the PC term nowadays?’
‘Foreign ones!’ interjected Kelsey.
‘Yes, they are a bit more… temperamental and artistic. And, the thing is, Nadiya has got it into her head that—’
Suddenly, there was an almighty crash from the dance floor below followed by terrified high-pitched screaming. We all craned over the balcony. Where Nadiya had been standing, there was now a crater in the dance floor. In it was a heavy hook which had fallen from the roof space and was embedded in the ground. It was so heavy that it had smashed through the wood and even though we were a distance away, the concrete was visible beneath it. A cluster of the black-clad people were now gathered around Nadiya, who, unsurprisingly, was the one screaming.
Chris Gordon made it down the steps much faster than I expected. He threw his arms around Nadiya and crooned murmurs of comfort. Kelsey and I walked over quickly and inspected the floor. Even the concrete beneath looked cracked and damaged.
One of the hipster types approached and slipped his headphones over the back of his head. He looked at the floor in horror and said, ‘Bloody hell, that’s gunna take some fixing. Steve’s gunna throw a flippin’ fit when he sees this. What a bleedin’ mess.’
I waited for Chris to say something but Kelsey was in there quicker.
‘Oy, she nearly died. You not bothered about that?’
His manbun shook indignantly. ‘Yes, of course I am—’
‘Well then, shut up about the floor and sort out some sort of medical help before she suffocates in his armpit.’
She was right – Chris had her so firmly wedged against him, her ability to breathe was a serious concern.
Hipster Type whipped out his radio and, in his mockney accent, summoned some back-up in the form of two women who appeared in seconds with much more appropriate responses.
‘Oh my God, Nads, babe, are you OK?’
‘We’ll totes get you some cannabis oil, hun.’
They prised her away from Chris’s reluctant grasp and she was ushered off. She looked over her shoulder at Chris and shouted through her tears, ‘You believe me now? Someone is trying to kill me!’
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