Page 13 of The Burnt (The Declan Hunt Mysteries #3)

Charlie hadn’t slept well over the weekend.

His slumber had been disrupted with dream after dream of people rising from the dead and walking around the office.

He clearly remembered one ghoul in the kitchenette—a short young man wearing an old-fashioned black suit.

His hands and feet were charred, and his face was a blotchy mess of blue and purple.

He was missing an ear, as well as the left half of his face.

He wore a name tag—Dave. In the dream, Dave had been trying to work the espresso machine.

He had turned to Charlie and asked if he’d prefer a latte or a cortado.

Charlie had woken up in a cold sweat. He wasn’t getting back to sleep, so he got up, closed the door on Carrie’s room then tip-toed to the bathroom.

He showered and dressed, making sure that he didn’t wake her up.

This morning, ghosts were not the only thing on his mind. Today was the first day back for the legendary Mrs B and he wanted her to like him.

He headed into work, making a pit stop at Declan’s favourite health food shop, Chia Country—formerly Wheat Germ World, and before that, Pulse Planet.

Charlie found none of the names compelling.

In general, he disliked health food, but it was open twenty-four hours for anyone who needed a beet juice and celeriac smoothie—bee pollen extra—early in the morning.

He bought a large Styrofoam cup of the vile concoction Declan liked to drink, then continued on his way to work.

Charlie parked the car in the lot behind the building and made his way to the front entrance of Gwen’s café. He looked up. There, just to the left of her sign, carved into the sandstone lintel, were the words ‘Hallowell Brothers, Under’.

How could I not have seen that before?

He stepped into Gwen’s café.

“Morning, Charlie. You’re here early,” Gwen said.

Charlie stared bleary-eyed into the display case. He was having trouble focusing.

“You all right?” she asked.

“I’m sorry. Didn’t get much sleep last night.”

“Oh dear,” she said. “I have just the thing for you.”

Gwen plucked a couple of custard-filled Portuguese tarts from the display case and popped them gently into a bag.

“There,” she said, smiling. “There’s plenty of protein in the custard. You can pretend they’re good for you.”

Charlie also bought an americano for Declan and a double latte for himself then made his way up to the office, carefully balancing his load.

He’d stuffed Declan’s health drink into a pocket, clutched the bag of pastries between his teeth and stacked the two cups of coffee, leaving one hand free to open the door.

If he walked into the reception area and found the ghost of a body swinging from the rafters he’d just leave the mess on the floor and walk out.

Charlie managed to open the door and made his way to the alarm panel…which had not been turned on. He’d have to talk to Declan about that.

As he headed to his new, probably haunted desk, he passed the stack of files he had left on the coffee table. He would put them away after he’d delivered Declan his drinks.

Charlie paused. Something was wrong. Everything was quiet. Declan always started his day by working out first thing in the morning. Charlie’s pulse started to race. What if…

Charlie crept up the stairs far enough to peer into the apartment. Declan lay on his stomach, not moving, his head contorted to one side. Charlie waited for any sign that Declan was breathing. A gentle snort confirmed that Declan was still alive.

Charlie sat the coffees on the kitchen counter then pulled the health food drink out of his pocket. He opened the lid. The drink smelled repulsive. He snapped the lid back on, fished out a straw from his other pocket and drove it through the sticker on the top.

Maybe it tastes better than it smells.

He took a tiny sip and gagged.

Declan began to stir. Charlie moved closer.

The sheets on the bed had been pushed aside exposing Declan’s bare right leg and muscular buttock.

Charlie considered bending down to kiss that mountain of muscle, but he had learned not to startle Declan when he was asleep.

A week ago, an amorous kiss to Declan’s inner thigh had resulted in Charlie being propelled through the air, luckily into a pile of laundry.

Declan wasn’t used to having someone around, and in his half-asleep state, had taken the tender caress as an attempt on his life.

He was getting better with time, but it was clear that Declan had to be woken up very gently.

Before Charlie woke him up, he leaned in close and said, “Good morning, man I love. Are you awake?”

One eye of the muscled mountain opened. “Mumph.”

“Up late?” Charlie asked.

Declan shifted a bit and winced. “Didn’t you get my text? Since you weren’t here, I stayed late at Bar-None last night.”

Charlie smiled. He hadn’t received the text. Declan had probably typed it and forgotten to press ‘send’.

Declan hoisted himself up on one elbow. “I’m beginning to think that place might not be good for me. I’m getting too old for bar life.”

“You’re not that old,” Charlie said, snuggling up to him. “It’s just a hangover.”

Declan hoisted himself around and landed his feet on the floor. His body was now wrapped in the top sheet making Declan look like he was wearing an ill-fitting toga. He stared groggily at Charlie.

“Here,” Charlie said, passing him the smoothie. Declan had a long sip on the straw and sighed.

Charlie scowled. “I have no idea what’s in that, but it made me gag when I tried it.”

Declan looked at him in disbelief. “You sipped from my straw?”

“Yeah. And it tastes like ogre snot.”

“You should never sip from another guy’s straw.”

Charlie was amused. The guy who could fish a dead body out of a swamp—or so Charlie had read in an early news report—was actually grossed out by sharing a drinking straw. “You’ve never complained about me putting your things in my mouth before.”

“But…it’s my straw…”

Charlie rubbed Declan’s back. “Well, then don’t use the straw. Coffee’s on the counter. I’m heading downstairs to tidy up. Mrs Beckerman comes in today and I want everything perfect for her.”

Charlie leaned over, gave Declan a kiss on the head then headed back down the stairs.

He went to the car and retrieved his personal laptop, then returned to his desk where he spent the next thirty minutes getting it to talk to the office’s Wi-Fi and printer.

He’d have to ask Declan if they had money to buy him a new work computer now that Mrs Beckerman would be using the other one.

Charlie also didn’t have a phone for his desk.

For now he could just use his cell phone.

What if Mrs Beckerman got a call for him?

He programmed his cell number into the main office phone on her desk so she could easily transfer any calls.

She probably had her own way of doing things, but since she’d been away, he had implemented a number of changes to things like passwords and security codes .

He wondered if she’d approve. The more Charlie thought about Mrs Beckerman’s return, the more nervous he became.

As if on cue, she walked into the room. She was bundled in a winter coat and carried a large, black bag, looking like a very serious Mary Poppins.

“Good morning, Charlie,” she said in a perfunctory voice, then headed into the kitchenette.

Mrs Beckerman returned without her coat.

She was wearing a dark-grey business suit.

“First things first,” she said as she dropped her bag onto her chair, then reached in and pulled out a large handful of magazines.

She marched toward the coffee table. Charlie realised too late that he’d forgotten to deal with the stack of files.

She fanned out the new magazines, then picked up the old ones along with the files.

She strode back to her desk, dumping the outdated periodicals noisily into the recycle bin.

“There,” she said, with a determined look on her face. “Better already.”

As she set the files down on her desk, she looked toward where Charlie was sitting. “I see you’ve been busy. Very nice-looking office you’ve made for yourself.”

“Uh, thanks. Can I get you a coffee?” he said, standing up and moving toward her.

“Thank you, Charlie, but that won’t be necessary. Fetching coffee is my job now.”

“Oh. Right. Sorry.”

She opened a desk drawer and pulled out a mass of loose electronics cables. She held them out to Charlie.

“Sorry. Let me take those,” he muttered.

Mrs Beckerman closed the drawer and began to adjust the chair to suit her. Charlie resisted the urge to explain how the chair worked. She looked up. “Why are you staring at me?”

“Oh, sorry. I just thought, if you had any questions…”

She gave him a withering glance.

“I’ll just be over here if you need anything.” He slunk back to his chair and busied himself on his computer. He pulled up the report on the Simon Griffin interview and reviewed his notes.

“Charlie?”

Charlie jumped. Mrs Beckerman was standing at his desk. How could she move so quietly?

“My, you are a skittish one,” she said. “About the filing you didn’t get around to—would you like to keep the files on your cases in your filing cabinet, or in with the main office files with Declan’s?”

“Which would be best for you?” he asked cautiously.

“I think you’re more than capable of handling your own files. And that way, they’ll be at arm’s reach and I’ll have less filing to do,” she said.

Mrs Beckerman handed him the slim folder containing the Chipping files. “Now—is there anything you need from me right now or can I get on with filing?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Charlie—no need to be formal. We’ll be working together. You can call me Mrs B.”

“Thanks… Mrs B.”

She headed back to her desk.

Charlie sorted out all of the old cables she’d given him, then labelled them and stowed them in the bottom drawer of his filing cabinet.

He moved all of the security system manuals out of the cupboard in the kitchenette and organised them in his bookcase.

When he glanced up, Mrs B was smiling at him.

“You remind me so much of Declan when he was first starting out. Eager to look professional. When I first met him, he was terrified that someone would expose him as a complete novice when it came to running the business. I told him from the word go it was clear he needed help and I was the person to help him. I don’t think he even offered me the job. I just took it.”

“You’re kidding?”

“It’s true. I like to think of myself as a good judge of people, and in spite of the fact he was so nervous, he treated me with kindness and respect. I knew he was a good person.”

Charlie just nodded his head.

“My instinct says the same about you. We’re going to get along just fine, Charlie Watts.”

Charlie breathed a sigh of relief and his shoulders relaxed.

“Now, if you’ll kindly tell me where my computer password Post-It note has gone…”

Charlie ran over to her desk with a new Post-It note that said ‘WelcomeBackMrsB5%’. “This will be more than secure enough and save you time.”

“Thank you.”

Just then Declan descended the stairs from above and poked his head out from the inner office. “I hope you’re playing fair, Mrs. B.”

She smiled, but didn’t say a word.

Declan turned to Charlie and said in a serious tone, “Can you come into my office? We need to talk about your interview with Simon Griffin.”

Charlie smiled weakly. “Sure.”

Why do I feel like I’ve done something wrong?