Page 42 of Dead Serious Case 4 Professor Prometheus Plume

“You’re the bartender?” I add in surprise.

She looks down and then crouches slightly, and just when I think she’s going to climb down from the box, she retrieves something from under the bar. Placing it in front of us, she pushes it toward us with bony, arthritic-looking fingers.

Tristan picks it up and I lean over to see. It’s a laminated drinks menu on black card with gold lettering and edged with 1930s-style borders. On the front is a list of wines, beers, and cocktails, and Tris turns it over to reveal a list of hot drinks and cordials.

“Um, I’ll have a hot chocolate, please,” Tris says.

“I’ll have the same,” I add, but Dilys just stares at me. For several long, uncomfortable seconds, I wonder why she’s doesn’t respond in some way; Instead, she appears to be waiting for something. It’s then I remember the room card the receptionist gave me. I pull it from my pocket and lay it in front of her. Dilys looks down at the room number and, gripping the edge of the bar, she climbs down from the box so slowly it’s like watching paint dry.

Abandoning her makeshift step, Dilys shuffles back along the bar and disappears into what looks like a darkened alcove.

Tris and I stare at each other for a moment and then burst out laughing. “Oh my god, this place is bonkers and we haven’t even been here an hour.”

With an amused smile and a shake of my head, I settle back onto my barstool.

“I have a feeling this is going to be a memorable weekend.”

“Hopefully for the right reasons.” Tris slides his hand onto my thigh and gives it a little squeeze.

“God, I feel like I could sleep for a week.” I stifle another yawn.

“Well, you did do all the driving,” Tris points out. “Once our room’s ready, we can take a nap if you like, then get ready for dinner since there’s no room service. I know we weren’t planning on leaving the room much in the first day or so, but a nice little romantic candlelit dinner would be lovely.”

“It would,” I chuckle, “as long as we keep you away from the candles.”

“True,” he snorts.

I find myself studying every bit of his gorgeous face—that cute dusting of freckles across his nose and cheekbones, the lush curve of his mouth, and those beautiful green eyes behind his thick-framed glasses.

“What?” he asks with a smile.

“You’re so beautiful,” I mutter.

His smile widens into a grin and he winks. “Oh, bringing out the big guns already? Well, at the risk of sounding tooPretty Woman, I’m a sure thing.”

My stomach warms and begins to flutter with excitement and nerves. A romantic candlelit dinner for two sounds like the perfect opportunity. I think about the small box burning a hole in my pocket and I know tonight’s the night to ask him a very important question.

Something catches Tris’ attention and as I turn to see what it is, I notice the little cloud of white hair is slowly bobbing along behind the countertop. This time, instead of the shuffling sound, it’s accompanied by the quiet rattling of china knocking together.

When the cloud of white curls reaches us, a tray bearing two cups rises up from behind the bar and two very pale hands push it slowly towards us. The hands disappear, only to have one reappear a moment later. A long, crooked finger points to a white place card nestled between the two steaming mugs of hot chocolate. I lean in slightly to read the card.

Thank you for your custom. Please have a nice day.

“Thank you,” I say, but Dilys doesn’t climb back on her box. The tuft of white hair simply turns around and shuffles back toward the alcove.

I turn to Tristan, who shrugs and lifts a cup. He takes a sip and lets out a moan that’s borderline pornographic.

“Oh my god,” he sighs.

I take a sip from my own cup and I’m pretty sure I make a similar sound of appreciation.

It’s thick and creamy and tastes divine. I’ve seriously never had anything like it.

Tris moans again. “I think I’m having a religious experience.”

“Now that’s a familiar sound,” Ellis’ chirpy voice pipes up. We twist our heads to see him approaching. “It’s good, isn’t it? I seriously don’t know what Dilys does to it, but I have never ever had any that tastes as good as hers.”

“Is Dilys actually the bartender?” Tris asks, his fingers wrapped around his cup like someone is going to steal it from him.