Page 48 of Dead Serious Case 5 Madame Vivienne

Raking my hand through my hair in frustration, I rest the weight of my head against my palm and prop my elbow on the sticky bartop.

“You look like you want to murder someone,” a familiar voice says, and a body drops onto the stool next to me. “I thought you were supposed to be one of the good guys.”

I cast a dry stare in Sam’s direction and he grins.

“How did you find me?”

“Maddie called and gave me the Cliff Notes of what went down.” He signals the bartender. “Pint of Guinness, please.” The woman nods and reaches for a glass. “Plus, this is the nearest pub to the Yard. It’s not like you to lose your cool. Wanna fill in the blanks and tell me what really happened?”

“That prick Byrnes went after Tris.”

Sam’s jovial smile immediately drops. “What?”

“He went to the mortuary and basically told Tris he thought Tris had something to do with Viv’s death. Because we won’t tell him what went down at Hadley and Mason’s, I think Byrnes has got it in his head that Tris has inherited a chunk of money from Viv, when in reality what he inherited was a big mess to clean up and an even bigger responsibility if we can’t find Viv’s son.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah.” I nod. “I went to speak with the DCI about Byrnes, but it was clear he wasn’t interested from the moment I stepped into the office. When I left, Byrnes was waiting for me in the corridor, I was going to ignore him but he started making veiled threats. I know it was probably all bullshit, but fuck… It pushed buttons I didn’t know I had. Just the thought of him hurting Tris? I snapped.”

“Give yourself a break, Danny. You’re the most fair-minded, easy going guy I know, but you’re also just human, and you’re going to react when someone threatens the man you love. Hell, I’d kick the shit out of anyone that hurt Tristan.”

I huff out a quiet laugh. I know he’s telling the truth; since he’s been in London and got to know us, he treats Tris like a little brother, and he’s just as protective of our little group as I am.

“So they suspended you.” Sam smiles at the bartender as she sets his pint in front of him and he hands her a tenner. Once she’s handed him his change and walked off down the bar to serve someone else, he turns to me. “I can’t believe how much they charge for a pint down here,” he mutters.

“London, mate.”

Sam grins. “I suppose there had to be a downside. Anyway, fuck them. If they fire you, then you can just come work with me.”

“Doing what? Chasing cheating spouses and insurance claimants? That’s what PIs do, right?” I smile as I pick up my pint and take a sip.

“Oh, Danny,” Sam says. “That’s not even close to what I do.”

I set the glass down on the bartop and study his face. There’s something mysterious in the smile that plays on his lips as his dark eyes dance in amusement.

Shaking my head, I sigh. “I thought it would be different here.”

“Don’t kid yourself.” Sam shrugs and takes a deep swig of his bitter before letting out a loud sigh of satisfaction. “Doesn’t matter where you go, it’s all the politics and old attitudes that die hard.”

“That’s not why I became a detective though.”

“I know.” He nods and picks up his pint again. “Come on, drink up. I’ve got just the thing to take your mind off it all.”

“What?” I ask curiously as he takes another swig.

He smacks his lips and wipes the foam from his lip. “I found out which hospital Vivienne’s son was born in. Wanna come and do some snooping around with me?”

Grinning, I pick up the rest of my pint and down it in one go.

“Fuck yeah.”

11

Icarefully brush the adhesive along the torn edges of the fragile page and use the book tissue to bind them together. Satisfied that it’s as close to perfect as I’m going to get, I place a sheet of wax paper on either side of the damaged page and close the book, then weigh it down with the heaviest thing I can find. Which would probably be Jacob Marley, but as he’s unlikely to stay still long enough for the glue to dry, I use a stack of anatomy textbooks from the bottom shelf of my bookcase.

“Okay.” I blow out a breath. “One down…” I look at the overflowing box of torn paper, scraps of parchment, and newspaper clippings. “Yeah, I think this is going to be a bit of an ongoing project.”

Jacob Marley purrs loudly and scrambles onto my lap, then digs in his claws until he elicits a squeak of pain from me.