Page 86 of Dead Serious Case 4 Professor Prometheus Plume

“Sorry,” I say to Danny. “What were you saying?”

“I was saying that I’ve been trying to find the right moment since… well, since Christmas. Before if I’m being honest. But the timing never seemed to be right, we kept getting interrupted, and I was beginning to think maybe it was a sign. But what I’ve come to realise is that there are no perfect moments, only real ones. If this craziness is what our life is going to be, then who am I to fight it? I give in. Tristan Everett, will you ma–”

From the corner of my eye, I see the book Dusty’s yanking on suddenly shift and a hidden door bursts open. Dusty windmills her arms and goes down as a bin-liner-wrapped corpse falls through her and hits the ground.

Danny and I stare in silence at Professor Plume’s body lying face down on the library floor. However, what Danny can’t see is Dusty’s arms and legs flailing underneath him. He also doesn’t hear her distressed yell of, “Ew! Get it off me!”

We stare for a moment longer before I turn my head towards the library door and shout loudly, “Found him!”

21

The door bursts open and a nervous-looking Mr Greyson is the first through, followed by Ruby.

“Oh my god,” Ruby gasps when she sees the open secret door and Professor Plume’s body lying face down on the parquet flooring. Then she turns rather suspiciously to Mr Greyson, who shoots her an unreadable glare in return.

I glance over at Danny and can tell the silent interaction between the two has not escaped his notice.

“Urgh, will someone help me?” Dusty mutters from somewhere on the floor. “He smells like week-old cheese.”

Being the only one in the room who can hear the rather unflattering commentary, I grimace slightly in solidarity with her predicament.

“Oh, dear,” Bertie booms as she materialises next to the body, Roger at her side. “Don’t worry, old girl, we’re here to assist.”

“Old?” Dusty huffs indignantly. Roger and Bertie each grab an arm and haul her out from under the corpse, then up onto her glittery stilettos.

“Figure of speech, love, and you certainly have a fine figure.” Bertie slaps Dusty’s bum.

“Bertie,” Dusty sighs in resignation. “I get that you’re from a different time, but when all this is over, we’re going to have a discussion about boundaries and consent.”

I snort quietly and turn back to the others in the room. It’s only then that I realise Mr Greyson and Ruby are staring at the ghosts with wide eyes and open mouths. My gaze tracks over to Danny, who stands silently next to me, and one look at his surprised expression tells me he’s observing the same thing Grey and Ruby are.

“Wait a minute.” I frown. “Can you see them?”

“Did you say you found him?” Ellis comes running into the room with a red-faced and breathless Rosie beside him.

The pair of them skid to a stop on the polished floor, staring like the others at Bertie, Dusty, and Roger.

“Oh my god!” Ellis shouts excitedly. “You’re Beatrice Ashton-Drake! I recognise you from your portrait on the second floor.”

Bertie tuts in disgust. “That sodding thing. My parents had it painted for my eighteenth birthday. Bloody awful. While Mummy and Daddy were alive, they always insisted I wear dresses.”

“Hello!” I wave my hand impatiently. “Can somebody tell me what’s going on? Dusty, why can they see you?”

“I can’t see Dusty,” Danny answers. “I see, um… Beatrice, is it?”

“Call me Bertie, lad, everybody does,” she says boisterously, and from the corner of my eye, I see Ellis looking as if all his Christmases have come at once.

“Bertie,” Danny awkwardly acknowledges with a nod, having never actually conversed face-to-face with a ghost before. “I can also see a man that looks like he’s off to play tennis? Oh…wait a minute… the tennis instructor…” he muses. “Roger?”

Roger winks cheekily at him. “Hello, handsome.”

“Swedish meatballs.” Danny points at Roger, obviously cycling back through all our conversations over the past forty-eight hours.

Roger grins. “Yes. Although that one incident aside, and not to brag, but I am excellent at fitting things in my mouth.”

“Roger,” I warn. “What did I say?”

“Fine,” he huffs and rolls his eyes.