Page 40 of Dead Serious: Case 3 Mr Bruce Reyes

“Dad?” I turn to Chan, who shrugs.

“Didn’t you know?”

“Umm, no? How would I know that?”

“I thought Dusty might’ve mentioned it. Anyway, come on.” Chan beckons for us to follow. “It’s getting rowdier out here by the second and harder to speak, and as much as Ari can be an utter twat sometimes, I don’t want to be shouting his private business all over the place.”

She turns toward the backstage entrance with Sam keeping pace beside her. While Dusty and Bruce follow in their wake, I hang back and make sure Danny is doing okay on his crutches.

“You probably should’ve stayed home,” I tell him with a frown, taking in the grim set of his mouth and the sheen of sweat on his brow. “It would have at least saved you the indignity of having to scoot on your bum down the steps to the bottom floor of the flat.”

“Did you see the penis with glasses and a moustache that Sam drew on my cast?” Danny huffs out a laboured laugh. “I think my dignity has already fled the building.”

“Why on earth did you let him do that?” I try to conceal a smile. “You know at some point in the next few weeks they’ll let you back to work on desk duty. How are you going to explain that to your DCI?”

“That’s actually the least of my worries. I’m more concerned with all the little male stick figures he drew, complete with cocks and balls, in a myriad of sexual positions that would usually only be found in the Karma Sutra.”

This time I can’t help the snort that escapes me as I look down at the leg of his trousers, which he managed to get on over the cast, if barely.

“I didn’t see those.” I narrow my eyes at the back of Sam’s head as he walks in front of me. Then, almost as if he can feel the weight of my stare, he turns and lifts a brow.

“What?” he mouths silently, and I roll my eyes. Bloody psychics.

“I’ll show you later.” Danny grins and I pull my attention back to him.

“My question still stands, however. Why did you let him do that?”

He winces. “I didn’t exactly let him per se.”

“You were taking a nap, weren’t you?” My mouth twitches at Danny’s chagrined look.

“In my defence, those painkillers are pretty strong.” He gives a grunt and pauses to catch his breath.

“Danny.” I reach for him to make sure he’s steady.

“Don’t worry, I’m okay.” He breathes slowly and then starts limping once again as he leans on his crutches. “I mean, I’m not winning any marathons any time soon, but I need to get up and about, build up my stamina on these things. Besides, sitting around all day just leads to inadvisable napping and pornographic graffiti.”

“But you shouldn’t be rushing yourself,” I admonish.

“Yeah, I know,” he sighs. “Believe me, my body is letting me know just how much of a bad idea it thinks this is. But Ari knows I’m a detective. He’s already familiar with me from Dusty’s murder, so me asking questions about a cold case is more plausible than you telling him Bruce’s ghost is trying to figure out his unfinished business.”

“Like I would tell him that.” I snort. “But Sam’s job as a PI is also a plausible explanation for investigating a cold case, isn’t it?”

He glances at me innocently. “Oh, I didn’t think of that.”

“Sure, you didn’t.” I huff out a quiet laugh as my eyes narrow. “I know your game, Daniel Lionel Hayes.”

“Sssh,” he hisses under his breath, glancing around to make sure no one heard.

“I swear to god, one of your parents must have lost a bet. I mean who looks at a cute little wrinkly baby and says, ‘Oh, I think he looks like a Lionel’?”

“My mum, apparently,” Danny says sourly. “She was a big fan of Lionel Ritchie, used to playHelloon repeat until all us kids wanted to Sellotape our own ears shut just to make the torture stop. Still, it’s not as bad as my sister Ellen. Her middle name is Madonna.”

“You’re making that up!” I stare at him.

“Nope.” He pops the word before grunting with exertion again.

“Seriously?” I say incredulously. “Your mum named her kids after eighties pop stars, and she’s got an issue with you being gay?”