Page 70 of Dead Serious: Case 3 Mr Bruce Reyes

“Thank you,” I say to Harrison with a sigh of relief.

“You’re welcome.”

My phone suddenly rings in my back pocket and as I slide it free, I see Chan’s calling me.

“H–?” Before I can even get a word in, I’m greeted with a high-pitched garbled rush of word vomit. “Whoa, whoa, Chan! You’ve gone ultrasonic, I can’t understand you.”

She pauses and takes a breath, but even though she’s slowed down a little, I still only understand snatches of what she’s saying, something about a painting and a stalker?

I sigh loudly and pinch the bridge of my nose to stave off the headache I can already feel brewing.

“Tris.” Danny struggles to his feet as Harrison hands him his crutches.

“Hold on a minute, Chan,” I tell her and lower the phone as Danny approaches.

“Why don’t you go and see her?” he says. “I can hear her from halfway across the room, so I think it’s obvious she needs you.”

I can feel my bottom lip sticking out, which is only confirmed when Danny leans in and gives me a soft kiss.

It’s not like I don’t want to see Chan, especially if she needs me, but I’m borderline exhausted. Being back at work this morning, home to pack some more, then off to Dad’s, then to Harrison’s, and back to Dad’s means it’s been a really long day. I’m not going to lie, I’m flagging.

I sigh deeply. “I really wanted to just go home and crawl into bed with you and eat pizza.”

“We will,” he promises. “But first, go and see what’s wrong with Chan. I’ll head home after making sure Martin is settled. I’ve got work to do on Bruce’s case anyway, so I’ll order some pizza and wait for you.”

“You’re the best.” I peck a kiss to his mouth before I turn my attention to Harrison. “You coming with me?”

He stares at me contemplatively before giving a small shrug. “I suppose I could.”

I smile and lift the phone back to my ear. “Chan, text me your address. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

* * *

“Finally,” Chan says from the doorway of her flat. “You said twenty minutes.”

I glance at my watch. “It’s been twenty-three.”

She stands aside to let me enter, and as I pass, I notice her eyes falling on Harrison, who’s following along in my wake with Dusty bringing up the rear. Honestly, I feel like I have a bloody entourage these days.

“Oh, you brought Prickles.” Chan blinks in surprise. Harrison walks past her and rolls his eyes. “Fine, you can both help,” she mutters sullenly.

“Dusty’s here too,” I add as she closes the door behind us and leads the way through into her living room. “So what’s the probl–” I break off in shock, my mouth falling open and my eyes widening.

“Wow,” Harrison remarks in that mildly understated way of his. “That’s–” He blinks, clearly lost for words.

“That’s really ostentatious, even for Chan,” Dusty states and I turn to see her standing with her hands on her hips, her lips pursed thoughtfully. She tilts her head back and looks up at a bloody enormous painting.

It must be nearly three meters high including the elaborate, thick, dull-gold frame. The whole thing’s so tall it reaches all the way to the ceiling in Chan’s tiny flat, and that’s with it being propped at an angle. I wonder how she got it through the doorway.

The painting itself is really dark, full of deep, muted colours. It portrays two men… kind of… wrestling? I think. They look like they may be naked, and one has got the other in a kind of half nelson, bent over in front of him.

“Why does it look like he’s giving him a blow job?” Dusty squints.

The three of us tilt our heads simultaneously as we study it.

“Where did it come from?” Harrison frowns. “It’s not really the sort of thing you’d find down at Tooting market.”

“Where did it come from?” Chan replies, her voice rising in clear annoyance. “Where did it come from?”