Page 33 of Dead Serious Case 5 Madame Vivienne

“You’re talking about the same people who thought electrocution was a sound remedy for curing male-pattern baldness. Who can say what they were thinking half the time?”

“That’s true.” I continue to ponder as we climb. “I mean, they did put heroin and cocaine in their cough syrup. I suppose it’s a wonder the houses weren’t all built upside down.”

I hear Sam snort out a laugh behind me.

We finally reach the third floor and I’m once again wheezing like Darth Vader on crack. Damn, I really need to do some sort of exercise. I turn to Sam, who hasn’t even broken a sweat.

“How are you not even winded? I feel like I’ve just scaled Kilimanjaro.”

“Excellent stamina.” Sam grins.

“I hate you so much right now.”

“You might want to talk to Harrison, he’s the president of my fan club. I believe they have membership cards and badges.”

“I’m beginning to understand why he wants to turn you into a toad,” I say dryly and follow the sound of voices coming from one of the rooms.

“Whoa.” I stop abruptly and my mouth falls open. “It’s like an episode of hoarders. I’m beginning to understand why Viv slept in the shop.”

The room is huge, with the high ceilings found in most of the really old Victorian buildings left in London. There’s a large, ornate fireplace boarded up at one side of the room and a heavy desk pushed into one corner, but if there’s any other furniture in this room, it’s buried underneath stacks and stacks of cardboard boxes, some of which are overflowing and spilling out random contents and paperwork everywhere.

“Oh!” Chan shrieks in delight. “Oh my god, oh my god!!!” He’s opened a box at random and is pulling out what look like very colourful curtains—or clothes, I’m not sure. “Look at these!” He holds up a pair of deep burgundy flares, then looks at thelabel and screams even louder. “Biba!!! These are Biba. Fucking jackpot! DUSTY!” he yells so loud my ears ring.

Dusty appears suddenly in front of us. “What the fuck? Where’s the fire?”

“Dusty… Dusty…” Chan is dancing on the spot with all the desperation of a three-year-old that needs to pee. “Biba, Dusty! Originals!”

“Um, is he alright?” Harrison frowns. “He seems to be having trouble forming a full sentence.”

“What’s a Biba?” I wrinkle my nose in confusion, then my ears explode because Dusty screams even louder than Chan.

“It was an iconic clothing store in Kensington during the sixties and seventies,” Sam says. Harrison and I turn to stare at him.

“What?” He shrugs. “We may have been from up north, but my mum spent some time in London during the seventies and loved Biba.”

“Oh, look at these!” Clothes continue to be pulled at random from the boxes. “These are true vintage!” Dusty gasps. “I’m so jealous that I no longer have a corporeal form.”

“I call first dibs on any clothes you find,” Chan declares as he looks at me, then squeaks as he pulls a patent yellow handbag from the box.

“Uh, Chan, I didn’t actually inherit the bookshop and its contents. I’m only babysitting it for a while.”

“Oh,” he pouts, his dark eyes wide. “But…”

“Sorry, all this belongs to Viv’s son if they find him,” I tell her apologetically.

“But can’t I just…”

“No.”

“It’s not like anyone would know,” he sulks. “Can’t you just ask Mr Hadley if…”

“I’m pretty sure he’s going to say the same thing.”

“Oh my god, look at these!” Danny gasps, holding up several pieces of browning paper. “This is paperwork from the war office for a Captain Albert Wilson. That must have been Vivienne’s grandfather. There must be hundreds of years of history buried in here.”

“Oh god, not you too,” I chuckle and exchange a look with Sam. “Can we please focus? Where’s the cupboard Viv mentioned?”

Danny places the paperwork down. “You know, someone really should catalogue this all properly.”