Page 55 of Dead Serious: Case 3 Mr Bruce Reyes

“You’re welcome.” She smiles. “Oh, and FYI, I managed to get you a viewing the day after tomorrow for that two-bed place in Whitechapel. It’s actually closer to the bookshop than I thought, but the flat is really nice. It’s a new build, loads of space, a lift to all floors, and most importantly, no leaky roof.”

“That’s great!” I smile. “That’s the one Danny and I both liked when we looked through the listings you sent us.”

She nods. “I have a good feeling about that one. I know you and Danny wanted to do this together, but the nice thing about the Whitechapel flat is that they’re prepared to accept a short-term lease, so if you and Danny want to look for another place or even look at buying somewhere together in six months or a year, then you can.”

“Sounds perfect.” Some of my tension eases.

It doesn’t help that the end of my lease coincides with the weird eclipse. So not only are we running out of time to figure out the mystery of the bookshop, but we would’ve been potentially homeless if it wasn’t for Chan stepping in to help us. Technically, after Danny gave notice on his flat, we should have still had another three months on my lease, but Mr Ahmed, the owner, decided he wanted us out of there earlier and served us with a twenty-eight-day eviction notice. I’m not sorry to be leaving the flat, but honestly, the timing couldn’t have been worse.

“Okay then.” Chan freshens her lipstick and tosses it along with her compact into her bag. “I’m off then.” She blows me a kiss. “I’ll call you later.”

“Okay, honey.” I nod a good-bye and return my attention to Ian’s body.

“You’re starting to sound like Dusty.” She chuckles and heads toward the door. I hear it swing shut as she leaves, and I look up at Dusty, pointing my scalpel in her direction.

“Don’t even think about disappearing,” I warn her.

“What?”

“As soon as I’m done here, we have someplace to be.”

“Where?” she asks.

“We’re going to visit Bruce,” I tell her firmly as I begin the first incision.

13

Madame Vivienne looks up from the counter with her ever-present glass of gin in one hand and shoots us a narrow-eyed look as the turbulent wind blows us into her silent shop, and I struggle to close the door.

“Afternoon, Madame Viv.” I give a cordial smile and her eyes narrow further.

“Are you actually here to buy anything this time?”

“We stopped by to see Bruce,” I reply a little apologetically. After all, we do just tend to walk in and out of her shop as we please. Though she tends to be prickly and often downright rude, she does allow us to with minimal verbal abuse.

She huffs loudly and my gaze once again deviates to the empty sofa where I so often have seen Evangeline Crawshanks sit and knit in the past.

“Have the spirits still not returned?” I ask, but even as the words leave my mouth, I know the answer.

There’s an unreadable look in her eyes and her gaze sweeps the empty shop. “I thought things would go back to normal,” she says.

“It did… for you.” Dusty cocks her hip and fixes an accusing look in her direction. “You wanted them gone.”

“I guess I got used to them,” Madame Vivienne replies, her tone oddly subdued while she stares at the empty sofa much like I had just done. “It’s so quiet now.”

I step closer to the counter, watching her. “Viv, if we could bring them back, would you want us to?”

She studies me silently, her eyes large behind her thick glasses, her long, wiry hair falling over the shoulders of the garish psychedelic pattern of her dress.

She shrugs. “Suppose it would be someone to talk to.”

She’s lonely.

My heart softens a little at the knowledge. It’s true she’s a bit of a scam artist. She’s prickly as hell and drunk off her tits more often than not, but as much as she’s protested having a shop full of ghosts, I think she’s come to realise it isn’t quite as bad as she thought.

“Is there anything I can do, Viv?”

She shrugs again. “Go see your friend.” She edges out from behind the counter and walks past Dusty and me, stopping when she gets to the door so she can flip the sign toClosed. Grabbing a bright yellow raincoat, she slips it on.