“Yeah, I guess I’m still a little out of it,” I say.
“Knock knock,” a familiar voice sing-songs from the doorway, followed by an actual knock on the open door.
I look across to see Chan back to her glamorous self and I relax. She’s rocking her signature bodycon dress and killer heels. Her makeup is dramatic and flawless, and her shiny black hair is tied up in a complicated twist on top of her head and anchored with ornate hair-sticks.
“I brought breakfast.” She holds up a tray of Starbucks cups and a paper bag. “I’ve got croissants and lattes, semi-skim, two sugars, and hold the sedatives.”
Danny chuckles and shakes his head.
“Too soon?” She sashays across the room and drops them down on the table at the foot of the bed. “Tris, honey.” She skirts around the bed and leans in, dropping a kiss on my cheek.
“Hey, princess,” I say quietly, and her eyes widen fractionally as she realises I’m still in the driving seat. She glances around the room, almost as if she’s searching for the real Tristan even though she can’t see spirits. She hands Danny a coffee first, then me, before settling in the other visitor’s chair on the other side of the bed from Danny.
“So, what did I miss?” Chan takes a sip of what I know is probably a cappuccino. “You’re finally awake then?”
“I was just about to ask Tris about yesterday.” Danny sips his coffee and hums in appreciation. “Thanks for this, by the way. I’ve been drinking that rocket fuel from the vending machine all night and it’s probably going to keep me awake for the next two days straight.”
“You’re welcome,” Chan replies. “Besides, I’m still trying to get back on your good side after what happened yesterday.”
“Chan, I know it wasn’t your fault,” Danny says. “I was worried, yes, but I never held you responsible.”
“And I appreciate that.” She furrows her brow. “But I still feel terrible. I was only gone for a few minutes.”
“Can you tell me what happened, Tris?” Danny turns his attention to me, and I glance covertly at Tristan.
“Was I drugged?” Tristan asks and I repeat the question to Danny.
“You were.” Danny nods, his expression darkening. “Your blood tests revealed a massive dose of sedatives in your system. They don’t think it’s caused any lasting damage, but it knocked you out cold for several hours.”
“But that doesn’t make sense,” Tristan says to me. “Why would someone drug me?”
“Can you tell me what happened at the community centre after Chan left the room?” Danny asks seriously.
“I was coughing and, without thinking, I picked up a cup and drained it,” Tristan says, and I dutifully relay it to Danny.
“Was it your cup?”
“I don’t know. Honestly, I wasn’t paying attention. It was either mine or yours, but I couldn’t say for certain which one.” Tristan continues to feed me answers which I parrot back to Danny.
“So the drug could have been intended for either you or me.” He scratches his jaw thoughtfully, tugging slightly at the growth there since he hasn’t had time to go home and shave. “I made them myself from the urn of hot water and sealed individual tea bags, so if it was dosed it had to have happened at the table, which narrows the suspect pool exponentially. It had to be one of the ladies at the table.”
“I can’t believe I got roofied by a pensioner,” Tristan says sullenly.
“It’s possible it was intended for me,” Danny muses. “After all, they all know I’m a police officer and that I am investigating Delores’ murder. It’s possible the murderer panicked and slipped something in my drink, which you then inadvertently picked up during your coughing fit.” He looks at me.
“But it doesn’t fit the M.O. Why go from arsenic to plain old sedatives and what the hell was it going to achieve?” I think out loud. “It’s not like sending you off for a jolly with the Sandman is going to stop the investigation.”
“I don’t know yet.” Danny sips his coffee again, “But I’m going to start with the person nearest me who could’ve had access to my drink while I wasn’t looking.”
“Ivy.” My eyes narrow. “That scheming little Mata Hari.”
“I’m going to investigate every single person at that table one by one, and I have a gut feeling it may lead us back to Delores’ murderer.”
“Just be careful,” I tell him fervently.
The last thing we need is another disembodied spirit wandering around with unfinished business, especially if it winds up being Danny. Tristan will never forgive me.
“I’ll figure it out.” Danny reaches out and squeezes my hand. “I promise, but the most important thing is that you’re here and you’re safe.”
