Page 5 of Dead Serious Case 4 Professor Prometheus Plume
“Oh.” What else can I say?
“You have so much holiday accrued, yet you never use it,” she says sternly, although her eyes remain kind.
“To be fair, I haven’t exactly had a chance to lately,” I reply.
She nods. “Which is why Mr Baxter and I have made an executive decision.”
“Uh, sorry?”
“We’ve booked you off effective after this party and arranged for temporary cover. We don’t want to see you back in this building until the eighth ofJanuary. That will give you a full two weeks off.”
“Are you serious?” I stare at her wide-eyed.
“I know what you’re going to say, Tristan, but–”
I cut her off by flinging my arms around her and hugging her.
“Oh,” she says in surprise, patting my back.
I pull back and look at her, blinking as my eyes start to sting a little. “A whole two weeks off?”
“I thought you’d argue it,” Judy says.
“Honestly? I’m too tired,” I admit. “Life’s been… a lot lately.” I wipe at the wetness trying to escape the corner of my eye. “Danny has some leave booked for the next couple of weeks because his doesn’t roll over. If he doesn’t use it, he loses it. I really wanted to spend it with him.”
“Then I’m glad.” She reaches for my hand and squeezes. “Take this time and enjoy yourself, you deserve it.”
“Thank you,” I whisper and she nods.
“It’s been a long day. Why don’t you head home?”
I look over at Hen, who is leaning over Mr Baxter’s shoulder and laughing at something he’s reading to her. She really must be heading towards drunk to find those jokes funny.
“Don’t worry about Henrietta. When my husband comes to pick me up, we’ll drive her home.”
“Are you sure?”
“Go on.” She smiles and gives me a little push. “Get going, and Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas, Judy.” I grin and head toward the door.
2
Ipull open the top drawer and, juggling the pile of clean and folded laundry in one arm, I carefully arrange all of Tristan’s boxer briefs and socks. Satisfied they’re neat and tidy, I move onto the next drawer and tuck in his t-shirts. If it were left up to Tris, he’d simply pile up his clothes on the chair in the corner of the room and spend twice as long looking for something to wear each morning.
Once I have all of Tristan’s clothes put away, I pick up the second pile of clean laundry and work my way through my chest of drawers, putting my own clothes away tidily. The last one I get to is my underwear drawer and as I tuck everything in its place, I reach to the back of the drawer and pull out a small, black box.
Closing the drawer, I stand there for a moment, staring at the tiny box sitting in the palm of my hand. My heart thumps, knocking hard against my ribs with a mixture of nerves and excitement. I swallow hard and draw in a breath. I’m about to open the box to stare at the contents for what feels like the hundredth time when it’s suddenly whipped out of my hand.
I blink slowly as my brain tries to catch up to my eyes. The tiny box is hovering midair about three feet away from me. The lid flips open and for several long, drawn-out moments, it just floats as if something is staring at it. Something… or, more specifically,someone.
“Dusty?” I say into the stillness of the room although I couldn’t hear her even if she did respond. At least, I hope it’s Dusty and not some random ghost wandering through our flat, which has been known to happen with alarming frequency over the past six months.
“Is that you, Dusty?” I ask again. Stupid, I know—again, couldn’t hear her if I tried. I cross the room and sit on the end of the bed. Tris and I finally replaced and gave back the heart-shaped monstrosity that Brandy loaned us when we first moved in. It had been surprisingly comfortable for something that looked as if it belonged in a Niagara Falls hotel honeymoon suite sometime in the 1980s.
“You’ve probably already guessed,” I continue, motioning toward the open ring box still hovering in the air, “but I’m going to ask Tris to marry me.”
I suck in a sharp breath and laugh. “Wow.” I pat my chest to calm my erratic heartbeat. “That’s the first time I’ve said it out loud.”