Page 54 of Dead Serious: Case 3 Mr Bruce Reyes

“Oh my god, really, you two?” Dusty rolls her eyes and I draw in a breath.

“Fine,” Chan huffs. “What is it, then?”

“It looks like a poppet,” I muse.

“A what now?” Chan blinks.

“A poppet. Voodoo dolls more often than not were used to harm, but poppets were used for protection and healing magic.”

“How do you know this shit, Tris?” Dusty shakes her head.

“I read a lot.” I turn my attention back to Chan, who’s looking at the doll with a frown.

“It’s still fucking creepy though. Why would anyone leave this in my dressing room?” Chan’s eyes widen as she looks back at me. “Holy fucking disco balls, have I got an honest-to-god stalker?”

“Uh…”

“I mean, first the black rose petals in my flat, then I found this really gross old rag of a blanket across my bed yesterday, and now this creepy-arse poppet thing?” Her eyes widen. “What if it’s a serial killer?”

“I’m sure that’s statistically very unlikely,” I murmur.

I’m pretty sure I already have an idea who might be responsible, and he and I are going to have words next time he decides to show up unannounced.

“May I remind you that my best friend was killed by a serial killer?” she points out as she purses her lips and raises her brows. “One who liked to murder the drag queens her daddy loved to bang?”

“I will give you that one.” I shake my head and return to my arduous task of glass removal. “But what are the chances of that happening again?”

“You say that like we aren’t up to our necks in the weirdest shit imaginable right now,” Chan grumbles.

“Another excellent point,” I concede, “but I think that… AHA!” I lose my trail of thought as I pull a really long, thin, bloodied shard of glass from Ian’s chest, very close to his heart.

“Ick, gross.” Chan wrinkles her nose.

“I think I’ve just found the murder weapon.” I examine it carefully before laying it down so it can be photographed and measured. “Given the length of it and the location, I’m guessing Ian was just unlucky. This shard of glass most likely severed his aorta, but I won’t know for sure until I open him up.”

“Urgh,” Dusty grimaces. “I still don’t know how you can do that.”

“And I don’t know how you get your leg above your head when you do a high kick. It’s just one of life’s mysteries,” I mumble while laying the tweezers down, satisfied I’ve removed all of the glass and the chunks of wax.

“Is Dusty here?” Chan brightens and I nod.

“Hey, Dusty.” Chan puckers her lips to blow her a kiss and even though Chan can’t see or feel her, Dusty leans in and plants an affectionate kiss on her mouth.

“Tell her I won’t let any psycho stalkers or serial killers hurt her,” Dusty says as she watches her best friend.

“Dusty says she won’t let any psycho stalkers or serial killers hurt you,” I tell Chan dutifully.

Chan blows out a breath. “I still wish I could see her,” she says wistfully.

“If there was some way for me to make that happen, you know I would.”

“I know.” Chan sends me an affectionate smile.

Her phone pings with a message alert and as she shoves the poppet back in her bag and then rummages through it, I turn back to Ian to start cleaning and prepping his body for the post-mortem.

“Oh, I have to go. I’m viewing a flat for you,” she says as she skims the message. “If it’s any good, I’ll make an appointment for a second viewing so you and Danny can see it. There’s no point in dragging him out there in this bad weather with a dud leg if it turns out to not be suitable.”

“I really appreciate you doing this for us, Chan.”