Page 28 of Dead Serious: Case 3 Mr Bruce Reyes
But the pièce de résistance is the A-line raincoat she’s wearing. Made from completely transparent plastic, it only reaches mid-thigh, revealing miles of legs.
“Tris?” she says, looking at me expectantly, and I realise I’ve completely missed whatever it was she said.
“Sorry, what?”
“I said you shouldn’t be out here,” she replies in concern. “You’re barely over the flu and you sound like a fifty-a-day smoker. You should have stayed home with Danny. I could’ve easily talked to Bruce on my own.”
“I know.” I turn and begin walking again, feeling a little envious when Dusty falls into step beside me and the rain falls straight through her, not affecting her at all. “But I want to speak to Evangeline and Madame Vivienne too. I’m still trying to get my head around all this crap Death dumped on us.” I pause and blink, then blow out a breath. “That was a really weird sentence. I mean, isn’t it crazy that we’ve met Death?”
“Honey, I think we passed crazy a while ago and we’re heading toward certifiable.” Dusty huffs out a small, amused laugh before she sobers into a thoughtful pout. “Am I way off base, or was Death totally checking Chan out?” She says with a worried glance in my direction.
“Well, I didn’t want to say,” I hedged, “but I was definitely picking up vibes.”
“You’re not kidding.” Dusty shakes her head.
“Fuck, I really didn’t think my life could get any weirder than seeing dead people, but this…”
“I know, honey,” Dusty murmurs. “I’m right there with you on that sinking ship.”
“Do you think he’s telling the truth?”
“About which part?”
“I don’t know.” I shrug, digging my hands further into the pockets of my coat. “All of it, I guess? I mean, I understand needing someone watching over the doorway, but why Bruce? And why is he being so evasive about it all? None of this makes any sense.”
“Trust me, I’m just as baffled as you are… and he can keep his wandering eyeballs off Chan too,” Dusty adds venomously under her breath.
“You know,” I mutter, frowning, “I’m really not sure I believe the whole ‘there can be only one’ bit. It isn’t bloodyHighlander.”
“Bruce would look really good in a kilt,” Dusty muses, a dreamy tone creeping into her voice.
I chuckle. “Dusty, focus.”
“Hashtag not sorry. I mean, have you seen his legs?”
“I have and you’re very lucky, but Bruce in a kilt is not what we should be focusing on right now.”
“Fine,” she says with a huff. “I do agree with you on one thing though. I don’t trust Death. We only have his word that he is who he says he is and then he pitches up making demands and we’re just supposed to fall in line? I don’t think any of this is fair to Bruce. He has a home, a family… a whole life waiting for him on the other side, but because of his unresolved business, he’s spent the last thirty-something years in limbo.”
“We’ll figure it out,” I promise. Even though I feel like crap, and I’m beyond confused, there’s no way I’m not going to do everything in my power to help Bruce. He’s such a sweet guy and he doesn’t deserve any of this.
Dusty’s lips purse tightly like she’s stopping herself from saying something. It’s really not like her at all and that worries me.
“Dusty.” I stare at her blurry figure through my rain-spattered glasses. “Dusty.” Stopping abruptly, I wait for her to turn toward me. “What is it? I can tell there’s something bothering you, so spill. What are you not saying?”
“Nothing,” she says stubbornly.
“No, it’s something…” My eyes narrow as I study her and I suddenly understand. Christ, I’m slow this morning; the answer has been staring me in the face all along. “You don’t want Bruce to leave, do you?”
She stares at me for a moment, and the only sound around us is that of the rain clattering against the pavement. “It’s not about what I want,” she finally says. “It’s about what Bruce deserves.”
“You’re in love with him.” My voice is so soft it’s almost lost in the howl of the wind.
Dusty rolls her eyes so hard I’m surprised she doesn’t hurt herself, then gives a disgruntled huff as she spins on her heel and flounces down the street.
“Whoa, whoa there, Mary Quant.” I catch up with her and although I can’t grasp her arm to stop her movements, she draws to a halt anyway.
“Just because you and Danny are all stars and hearts and skipping through meadows of daisies holding hands doesn’t mean the rest of us are,” she snaps waspishly.