I steer her toward the corridor, the ghost trailing along behind us, once again humming to herself.
We catch up with Danny and Maddie outside Delores’ room, but there’s really nothing more that can be done tonight. They’ve organised for Delores’ body to be removed and delivered to the Hackney Mortuary tomorrow. Danny, god bless that man, he knew I’d want to see this through and had pulled those strings to allow me to perform the post-mortem despite the death occurring just outside my area.
Larry, almost dead on her feet, heads home, leaving me her phone number and address so I can stay in touch with her throughout the investigation.
When the rest of the police have finally left, Danny turns to me, looking as exhausted as I feel.
“Well, that day was not what I was expecting,” he chuckles.
“You’re telling me,” I mutter under my breath.
“I tell you what.” He wraps his arms around me and pulls me in closer.
“What?” I smile up at him.
“Why don’t we head back to your place? We could slide into the bath together.” He drops a teasing kiss on my upturned lips. “I’ll wash your back if you wash mine.”
I snort quietly in amusement, groaning when I feel a presence hovering beside me. I turn my head to the side a fraction to see Delores staring at me. There is no way I’m getting naked in the tub with Danny while Delores is on the loose unsupervised.
What’s really worrying is how she is able to move solid objects with such ease. It took Dusty weeks to manage even just the small stuff, but Delores doesn’t seem to think twice about it. Which can only spell trouble for yours truly. How the hell am I going to explain this?
“Actually,” I begin reluctantly.
How am I supposed to tell him that, as much as I desperately want to get all wet and soapy with him, we have to babysit a ghost with dementia who just happens to be able to move physical objects? Fuck, I inwardly groan. I haven’t even worked up the courage to tell him I can see dead people yet.
“What is it, Tris?” He cards his fingers through my hair, and I want to arch into his touch like Jacob Marley does. Damn Danny and his magic hands.
“Actually, I’m shattered,” I reply and I’m not lying. I feel like I’ve just run a twenty-mile marathon in flip-flops. “I really just want to crawl into bed with you and snuggle.”
“A plan I can fully get on board with.” He grins as he takes my hand.
Winding his fingers through mine, he steers me down the corridor, but the whole time I’m painfully aware of the tiny dead lady following along in my wake like a baby duck.
4
My eyes are barely open as the stingy dribble of water from the shower tickles my face. It’s like being lightly rained on, and yet another thing I need to speak to the landlord about. As if having to complain about the cheese grater I have for a roof isn’t bad enough, now I have nonexistent water pressure.
After washing my body as best I can, I shove my hair under the pathetic stream of water. Rinsing the shampoo from my thick hair takes twice as long as usual, and by the time I’m done the water is freezing cold and I’m shivering like a half-drowned Chihuahua.
Shoving the shower curtain aside roughly, I let loose a rather unmanly scream as my nearsighted eyes land on a blurry figure standing in front of the closed door of the bathroom. I grab the shower curtain as my feet slip out from under me in the wet ceramic bathtub. I roll into the shower curtain, clutching on tightly as I lose my balance and go down, sending the plastic clips pinging off in all directions like tiny missiles knocking bottles off shelves and cracking the corner of the bathroom mirror. Pain clangs through my elbow and vibrates up my arm as, cocooned in clear plastic, I slide into the bath, breathing heavily and looking like I’ve been gift-wrapped by a serial killer.
“Owwww,” I croak slowly to no one in particular.
Reaching one arm over the edge of the bath, my body follows and I flop ungraciously onto the rug like a newborn baby seal. Squinting without my glasses on, I can just about make out the still person clutching a handbag.
Mrs Abernathy, I realise with a groan of resignation. What is it with ghosts? First Dusty and now the old lady. What part of ‘the bathroom is off limits’ do they not understand? Is nothing sacred anymore?
I’m about to open my mouth when the bathroom door swings open and Danny strides in, passing straight through Mrs Abernathy and making her disappear into a thin vaporous mist.
“I heard a crash.” Danny’s eyes land on me sprawled out on the floor. “You okay?” His brow quirks as he takes in the assortment of displaced bottles and small plastic shower curtain clips everywhere.
“Slight shower malfunction.” I release a winded breath. “A little help, please.”
He strides toward me and effortlessly scoops me off the floor. His hands are gentle, his eyes filled with worry.
“Did you hurt yourself? Maybe we should get you looked at, you might have a concussion.”
“I’m fine,” I manage.
