Page 65 of Dead Serious Case 4 Professor Prometheus Plume
“I suppose so.” I smooth it into the perfect shape and look up at him. “Plus, bow ties are cool.” I wink and he laughs, being a Doctor Who fan himself.
“You look good, Tris.” His gaze trails over me. “Although that jacket smells a bit like it’s been holed up in the catacombs for a century and then spritzed with Armani Code, you look hot.”
“You think?” I take a step back and turn slowly for him, striking a pose. “Does it say secret agent?”
“Very.” He gives his signature chuckle, but I catch him fiddling with something in his pocket nervously.
“Are you okay?” I ask, tilting my head as I study him.
“Yeah.” Danny offers his arm, which I take. “Come on, I’m starving and hopefully we won’t end up wearing dessert this time.”
We turn toward the door but I stop dead, startled into immobility by a sudden loud blast of music. I blink hard and my mouth falls open a little as Dusty appears, looking like she’s cosplaying 1980s Madonna from the music video forLa Isla Bonita, right down to the enormous ruffled red dress and black polka dots. Even her hair is in on the act, gelled flat to her head and sporting a huge bun decorated with red and black roses at the nape of her neck. She’s smiling brightly while enthusiastically shaking a pair of maracas and behind her is a four-piece mariachi band dressed in black suits edged in elaborate silver designs and wearing giant sombreros. As they play their instruments and sing in heavily accented tones, I cock my head to try and identify the song. It seems familiar.
“Is that Post Malone?” I say in confusion.
“Huh?” Danny glances at me, obviously unable to see—or hear—what I can.
“Not the singer,” I amend. “The song. Dusty has a band… it’s… never mind.” I shake my head, at a complete loss to explain the madness that is my deceased best friend. Fortunately for me, Danny seems to be used to it by now. “Dusty?” I turn my attention to her. “What are you doing?”
“Celebrating?” She shakes her maracas at me and I’m suddenly showered with confetti.
“What is it with you and confetti cannons? I hope this isn’t going to become a regular thing.” I frown. “And celebrating what, exactly? Because I have to say, I’ve never experienced the mariachi version of Post Malone’sCongratulations. It’s a bold choice.”
Dusty’s smile dims and her gaze skims down my body, her gaze lingering around either my hands or my belt, and I’m not really sure what she’s looking for.
“Urgh!” She growls and stamps her foot in impatience.
The bedroom door flies open behind them and Dusty turns abruptly on her heels and flings out her arms, herding the band out of the room. There’s a bit of a scuffle and a bottleneck on the threshold. I hear the loud twang of a guitar string and muffled cursing in Spanish. One guy’s sombrero gets knocked askew, but she still shoves them all out the door and closes it behind them, spinning around and collapsing back against it with her arms held out and pressed against the wall either side of the doorframe as if to stop them getting back in.
There’s a couple of seconds’ stunned silence and then the music starts up again on the other side of the wall. It takes me a minute before I recognise it as Toni Braxton’sUn-Break My Heart.
“I think you’ve upset them,” I remark dryly.
“They’ll get over it.” Dusty snaps her fingers and her outfit changes into a bright gold flapper-style dress with so much fringing that she looks like a table lamp from the sixties. It’s also incredibly short, making her legs look like they go on for miles until they end at platform Mary Janes with skinny heels. Deep sculpted finger waves sit close to her skull and a beaded headband sporting a huge ostrich feather is atop her head.
“Uh, what are you doing?”
“I’m coming with you,” she says as if it should be obvious.
“Where?”
She waves her hand. “To the murder thingy.”
“Why?” I stare in confusion.
“To supervise,” she says firmly, her eyes narrowing on Danny. “Seeing as how some people can’t be trusted to get the job done.”
“What job? What’s he not done?” I glance back and forth between Dusty and Danny, who’s stiffened beside me.
“Oh, he knows.” Dusty folds her arms.
“What’s Dusty saying?” Danny asks and that same nervousness is back.
“I literally don’t have a clue.” I lift my hands helplessly. “Next time they send me a spirit-guide-in-training, they need to also send a handbook because I have no idea what she’s going on about, but she says she’s coming to the murder mystery night with us.”
“Oh, would you look at that?” Danny glances at his watch. “They’ll be serving dinner soon, we should go. We don’t want to be late.”
He palms my back and hurries me towards the door, which opens as we reach it, and I don’t miss Dusty’s smug look as she follows us out of the room.