Page 30 of Dropping Like Flies

Griffin’s brow furrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

I’d gone too far to pass it off as mere hyperbole. Besides, I was getting a twisted satisfaction out of hurting Griffin. Lord knew I’d been biting my tongue—mostly—since he’d come barreling back into my life. “One without a drink problem. One who can last five minutes without a shot of whiskey. One who—”

“You’ve said enough.” Griffin’s voice was like ice.

Yeah, I probably had. I forced myself to take a deep breath, realizing too late that our little spat had taken place out on the street—again—a homeless man and his dog in a shop doorway, our interested audience this time. No doubt they’d heard every word, and while the dog might not have been able to understand it, the man could. “I won’t apologize.”

Griffin said nothing, just continued to stare at me like he was waiting for something. The realization was slowly sinking in that I still had to work with him, that Baros wouldn’t say yes to him being replaced without me spilling our history, which, I had no intention of doing. I cleared my throat. “I’ll talk to you when I get back from Manchester.”

I walked off before he could offer a response, glad that at least one thing was sorted. It might make me a hypocrite, but it was worth it not to have to spend the best part of a day in Griffin’s company.

Chapter Eleven

Griffin

Ben’s face had been an absolute picture when I’d turned up on the platform of Euston Station ahead of the scheduled train to Manchester Piccadilly. He’d obviously never considered me ringing the DCS to find out the travel plans. More fool him for not realizing that I could be resourceful when I needed to be. While it had been tempting to sit this one out, the experience with Rupert and the subsequent interview with Rupert’s ex, Dougie, had left me wanting, or maybe even needing, a positive outcome from this case. And out of the two of us, I was far more in touch with the world of the paranormal. It was hard not to be when I regularly communed with spirits beyond the veil. Therefore, despite being the one who’d pointed out that me being out of London might not be wise, it made sense for me to be there for the meeting with this professor guy.

My traveling companion had barely said two words to me during the two plus hour journey, pulling a book out of his bag and pretending to read. I knew he was pretending because nobody could spend that long on one page before remembering to turn it. I was fine with being ignored, laying my head back against the seat to catch up on some lost sleep. At least that had been my intention.

I found myself far too aware of Ben’s proximity, though, to nod off. His scent. His body heat. His breathing. The minty taste of the chewing gum he’d started chewing without offering me any. In the end, I didn’t sleep at all, my pretense that I was, probably no more convincing than him having read several chapters of his book during the journey.

We kept up the silence as we left the station and headed toward the taxi rank. Finally, I decided that enough was enough as we climbed into the back of the first available one, Ben telling the driver to head for the university. “You’re going to have to speak to me at some point. You can’t just pretend I don’t exist.”

“Try me.”

I sighed. “You need to decide what you want. Whether you want me all in on this case or not. Because you can’t have it both ways.”

Ben turned his head to fix me with a glare. “How did you know what time the train was?”

“I spoke to Baros.”

His jaw tightened. “What did you say?”

“I didn’t make you look bad, if that’s what you’re worried about? Tempting as it was, I didn’t tell him you’d thrown all your toys out of the pram.”

“What did you say?”

“That you’d forgotten to give me the details, and I was having problems getting hold of you.”

“Right.” Ben turned his head away, hiding his expression and leaving me wondering what he was thinking. Sometimes the bond that existed between us was infuriating, and at other times, I wished mind reading was part of it. Although, if it was, it would probably have taken more than whiskey to get me through the past few years.

I did a double take when we were shown into Professor Rafferty Hart’s office. Perhaps it was narrow-minded of me, but the title of professor had conjured up a gray-haired man with a beard and glasses. One dressed in a tweed suit with leather elbow patches. I would probably have had him clutching a pipe that he smoked in an evening as well.

In reality, Professor Rafferty Hart was young—no older than forty—and handsome. His dark hair bore a natural curl, and his hazel eyes were full of warmth. There was no beard. No tweed suit either, the professor’s attire of jeans and a T-shirt showing off a toned body.

He shook Ben’s hand first, and then mine, his grip firm, apologizing as he did so for the meeting needing to take place in the late afternoon. Apparently, he’d had lectures all morning and there was no one who could take his place. When Ben referred to him by his full title, he insisted we call him Rafe, making a joke about no one needing to use several syllables when one would do the job just as well.

When he ushered us into a pair of comfortable chairs set away from his desk, I surveyed his office, hoping to glean some clues from the pictures on the wall about what he actually taught. If Ben had been talking to me during the journey here, it would have been useful information prior to the meeting. But, as he hadn’t been, I’d just have to work with what I had. Which was apparently nothing, the walls refusing to give up any secrets.

“Coffee?” he offered as he took a seat in a third chair. “I don’t have a kettle in here because of the ridiculous health and safety regulations, but I can have someone run to the machine down the corridor. It works seventy-five percent of the time. The coffee gods might smile on us today.”

Ben and I both shook our heads, Ben’s slight lean forward in his chair saying he was keen to get down to business. I stayed silent while Ben gave the professor a brief rundown on the case. Rafe visibly perked up when Ben got to the part about the symbols scrawled on the wall. I guess there was no accounting for what some people were into. It had me curious enough to interrupt, though. “If you don’t mind me asking, what is it you actually teach that qualifies you as an expert in this field?”

It would have been easy to be offended by my bluntness. Rafe, however, was magnanimous enough to offer an apologetic smile. Handsome and nice.

“Forgive me,” he said. “I didn’t do a great job of introducing myself, did I?” He didn’t wait for a response before forging ahead. “I’m a professor of parapsychology.”

“Which is?” I questioned. “And I’d be grateful if you’d explain it to me like I’m five.”

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