The Nothing Job by Nick Oldham

Henry. ‘You must be Constable Robbins,’ she said, shaking his hand firmly. ‘I’m Detective Sergeant Papakostas … Georgia Papakostas.’
    Henry’s mouth also drooped, almost flopping on to the tiled floor, his anger over his late luggage immediately evaporating, to be replaced by a sort of awe at the sight of one of the most stunning women he’d ever met. Her jet-black hair was pulled back tightly from her face and tied in a neat ponytail. She had honey-coloured skin, deep-brown eyes, an imperfect complexion with two tiny pockmarks on her left cheek that only added to the overall effect of a true Mediterranean beauty. There was no make up other than a touch of lip gloss which simply served to accentuate the full mouth and pure white teeth of her hot, real smile.
    For a few moments Henry could not form any words. He and Bill just simply stood before this woman drooling like imbeciles from a Tom and Jerry cartoon.
    â€˜Pleased to meet you, Sergeant,’ he managed to say.
    Her thick black, but perfectly trimmed eyebrows knitted together in puzzlement. ‘I have got it the right way round, haven’t I?’ she said in a lightly Greek-accented voice. ‘You are Bill, yes?’ she said to Henry.
    â€˜Oh no, I’m DCI Christie … this is PC Robbins.’ Henry moved forward a couple of steps, positioning himself slightly ahead of Bill because there were times when it was only right and proper for a DCI to lead from the front.
    Georgia giggled. ‘I’ve been looking at the names on the paperwork, imagining what you both would look like.’ She gave an apologetic tilt of the head. ‘Got it wrong.’
    Henry caught the merest scent of light perfume from her, reminding him of strawberries.
    â€˜All you need to know is that I’m the brains and he’ – he thumbed disrespectfully at Bill – ‘is the muscle.’ And immediately regretted what he’d said because he knew it made him look stupid.
    â€˜Thanks, boss,’ Bill said under his breath.
    To try and compensate, Henry gave Georgia his cute tilted-head half-smile he kept for use on such occasions, coupled with a few blinks of his eyes.
    She smiled and emitted a pleasant chuckle. ‘Anyway, I’m very pleased to meet you both. As you probably know I’m the officer in this case and may I formally welcome you to Cyprus, halfway to the Orient, as they say.’ She bowed her head gracefully and gave a very minor curtsey.
    She was wearing a black trouser suit with sensible black shoes, good practical clothing for a female detective. As she bowed, her unbuttoned jacket flapped open slightly, revealing her red blouse fastened just above her breasts. Obviously these caught Henry’s eye, as they did Bill’s, but what really caught Henry’s breath and what made him realize that this might not be just a jolly to a sunny holiday island was the sight of the pistol strapped to her right hip.
    Stepping out of the terminal building, Henry was struck in the face by the incredible heat of the day and the myriad of intoxicating aromas associated with the island, particularly that of the sea, which was literally just across the road.
    The two Lancashire officers followed DS Papakostas down the ramp, past a few lounging and moustachioed taxi drivers touting idly for work, all of who watched the female detective’s progress with dirty eyes and thoughts. She led Henry and Bill across the car park to a Nissan Terrano, a big four-wheel drive beast, into the back of which they heaved their cases and then themselves.
    â€˜You can have use of this,’ she explained, ‘but I’ll drop you off at your hotel first.’
    â€˜Sounds good,’ said Henry, barging Bill out of the way to get into the front passenger seat alongside Georgia, who climbed in behind the wheel. The two men exchanged scowls, but Bill relented and got into the back seat with great reluctance. It