Page 30 of Dead Serious: Case 3 Mr Bruce Reyes

“Sorry,” she says. “Wasn’t expecting visitors.”

“But the sign says you’re open,” I remind her.

“Oh.” She blinks. “Be a pet and flip it over, will you?”

Curious as to what the hell is going on, I do as she asks and turn the sign so it readsClosed.

“You seem to be in an awfully good mood,” I say as she lifts a bottle of gin from the counter and takes a loud glug.

“Classy,” Dusty murmurs in a droll tone.

Madame Vivienne lifts the bottle in a mock toast before leaning down, I assume to stub out the joint in an ashtray under the counter. At least, I hope she has an ashtray down there.

“Why’s the shop closed?” I ask.

“Why not?” She shrugs, unconcerned.

“I’m surprised she makes any money at all.” Dusty frowns. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen an actual customer in here.”

“I’ll have you know we had one in here last Friday,” she says primly, looking around the desk and moving things, although what she was searching for is anyone’s guess. “Or was it the Friday before?” She stops and muses thoughtfully before resuming her search. “Besides, it’s not like it matters. My family was loaded, old money. As I’m the last one left, I ended up with a massive inheritance and also ownership of this and the building next door, so I have their rent money too.”

“You own two buildings and you charge people fifty quid for dodgy spiritual readings?” I reply in shock.

“Aha!” She picks up a glass and fills it, then lifts it in Dusty’s direction and sends her a smirk before downing the contents. “You know, Tristan”—she smacks her lips—“that sounded a little judgemental.” She narrows her gaze toward me.

I scowl back. “It was meant to be.”

“Doesn’t matter anyway.” Vivienne shrugs. “I had a nice little side business going before Evangeline came along and ruined it all.”

“My heart bleeds for you,” Dusty says flatly. “And I believe the words you were looking for, Viv, honey, were sidehustle.”

“Potato, potarto.” She shrugs again, waving her hand airily. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her so laid-back. I’d say the cause of her sudden ambivalence is the curious lack of usual spirit activity in the bookshop but given how stoned she is, I suspect the latter is to blame.

“Vivienne,” I interject as my gaze skims the quiet shop and, more to the point, the empty sofa by the desk, where Evangeline is nearly always found knitting, “where’s Evangeline?”

“Gone,” she says deadpan.

“What do you mean,gone?” My eyes widen.

“Haven’t seen her around in days. In fact, haven’t seen any of those bloody ghosts. It’s been so peaceful, just like the good old days before I met you.” She levels a glare in my direction.

“They’ve all just disappeared?” I pointedly ignore the insult. “And you didn’t think there might be a problem?”

“Problem?” She laughs. “Are you daft?” She picks up the gin bottle and wiggles it. “I’ve been too busy celebrating. Ding dong, the witch is dead, and all that.”

“I think you’ll find that a, she was already dead to start with, and b, she wasn’t a witch.” Dusty’s voice drips with sarcasm.

“Did you actually want something, or are you just here to piss on my parade?” Vivienne lifts a brow and turns her glare at Dusty.

“We came to see Bruce.” I keep my tone neutral, not wanting her to get pissed enough to throw us both out.

“Which one is he again?”

“Curly hair, rugby kit… tiny shorts.” I watch as she nods.

“Really hairy thighs?” she says, and I have to step in front of Dusty, who looks as if she’s about to go full-onThe Shiningall over Vivienne. “Oh yeah, he’s still here.”

“Is it alright if we go and speak with him?” I ask quickly before Dusty loses her temper.