Page 32 of Dead Serious Case 5 Madame Vivienne
“Wow,” I reply. “I’ll ask Danny if he can get his hands on the case file. I’m not sure if he can with Detective Byrnes watching his every move and being a total tit badger in the process. But failing that, I might be able to get my hands on the post-mortem report. It shouldn’t be too hard for me to find out who performed it.”
Harrison blows out a deep breath. “I really don’t want to see those pictures, but I need to get a look at those symbols.”
Sometimes I forget most people aren’t used to seeing dead bodies like Danny and me. “I’ll see if they can just isolate the markings and blow them up.”
“Oh, got it.” Harrison holds up what we think is the last hex bag.
“What now?”
“We get rid of them.” He drops the last bag into the metal container and holds his hand over the piles of tiny string-tied sacks.
“How?” But as the words leave my mouth, Harrison mutters something under his breath and the small pile bursts in to flames. “Oh, that’s how.”
“Try not to inhale the fumes.”
I obediently pull my sleeve over my hand and cover my mouth and nose.
“Are you toasting marshmallows down here and forgot to invite me?” Sam’s amused voice startles me but Harrison simply rolls his eyes, which I’ve noticed he does a lot around Sam. At this rate, he’s going to strain his eyeballs.
“Finished playing hide-and-seek upstairs?” Harrison says dryly. He waves his hand over the bin, extinguishing the flames that burned so hot that I almost ended up with a suntan on my face. Peering inside, I see there’s nothing but a small pile of ashes left. “Don’t touch those, they’ll need to be buried properly.”
“Okay,” I agree and turn to Sam. “Did you want something, Sam, or did you just come to pull Harrison’s pigtails?”
Sam grins. “Maybe later.” He sends a cheeky wink to Harrison, who looks like he’s silently counting to ten to keep his temper under control. “We’ve found a weird cupboard.”
“Define weird on a scale of one to ten,” I counter.
“What?” He blinks.
“Our lives are permanently weird so I’ve decided we need a scale, one being mildlyoh that’s a little odd, to ten andholy shit, are those tentacles?”
“Um, okay.” Sam frowns thoughtfully. “This is around ahuh, why the fuck would someone do that?So maybe a two, edging into a three? Say two and a half on the Everett scale of weirdness.”
“The Everett Scale,” I muse. “I like that. I’ve always wanted to have something named after me.”
Harrison snorts. “You two are ridiculous.”
“Anyway, Danny sent me to get you. He said you had the key Viv left with you?”
I rummage in my pocket and pull out the small antique key tied with a thin black velvet ribbon and wave it at him.
“Come on, then, if you two have finished with your little mini bonfire. I mean, if you need more time, I could always break out my guitar and we could sing a couple of rounds of Kumbaya.”
“Sorry, not my religion.” Harrison crosses the room and saunters haughtily past Sam to climb the stairs.
“I didn’t know you could play the guitar.”
“What can I say.” Sam shrugs. “I’m a man of hidden talents.”
“And don’t think I didn’t notice you checking out Harrison’s arse as he walked past.”
“Of course I did,” he says unapologetically. “Have you seen his arse? It’s like the juiciest peach wrapped in a silk handkerchief.”
“I heard that.” Harrison’s voice echoes back down the stairs.
“It was a compliment,” Sam calls up, then grins at me. “After you.”
“Thank you.” I begin to climb the narrow staircase. “God, these things always give me claustrophobia. Were the Victorians all ridiculously skinny, or did they just enjoy being hugged by the walls?”