Skulduggery Pleasant: Raising Cain

Chapter 175 - Bad hair day

Chapter 175

As the next step in their mission, they decided to go to the Maybury Las Vegas family apartment. The brothers had bought it together, but really, only Deacon used it. Or that's what his brothers told Dexter. Since they knew Foe's gang were in America with them, they sent one of the other Maybury brothers to go check on Deacon's apartment in Ireland while they checked the American one in hopes of some extra hidden clues that Deacon may have left in America to conceal his footsteps.

"I find it incredibly unlikely we'll get anything here," Valkyrie muttered to Dexter's back. The apartment complex was quite nice despite it not being in any sort of celebrity part of the city, but the stairs were narrow and the building smelt sort of musty. For such an expensive city, Valkyrie supposed the tall, clear windows and the thin but spotless stairs was pretty good going.

"His brother just text me that Deacon was in America only three days before his woodchipper incident in Ireland," Dexter said, turning back to grin at her. "They found the plane tickets. So actually, we may well be on the right track."

"Alright, Detective Vex," Valkyrie said, her own hopes lifting as well as her smile. "How you doing, Ryan?"

He was breathing heavily from the three flights of stairs they'd already walked. Another three to go. "Okay."

"Good to know."

They got to the sixth floor and went directly to the apartment. It was trashed. Papers were all over the floor, the sofa had been slashed over all its cushions and had most of the stuffing pulled out. All the pictures and other artefacts had been damaged or ruined. Valkyrie sent Dexter to the bedrooms to search and Tanith helped him while Valkyrie took the small office nook.

"What are we looking for in this mess?" Tanith called out.

"Foe secured the Doomsday Machine somewhere," Valkyrie called back. "We need to find out where. Maybe we'll get lucky and discover Deacon was an avid journal-keeper or some shit like that. At the very least, if nothing takes us to the Machine, there might be some name or reference that'll bring us closer to that."

The bookshelf above her chose that moment to fall on her head and books spilt over the floor. She swore and jumped back, glaring at the mess.

She looked up and caught Ryan smiling at her. She just tutted, at her own misfortune and that of Ryan finding humour in her hour of absolute need and went to talk to him for a moment while she looked over the papers on the floor. "I hate looking for clues," she said.

"Isn't that the biggest part of being a detective?" Ryan asked, still looking at her with more and more obviously admiration.

"I prefer the bit where I hit people," she said, turning her back on him to stop seeing the expression on his face. The kid must only be fifteen or sixteen, a little pudgy but not large by any means. Just small enough to still be healthy by any person's measurement but not so small as to avoid being bullied. Which may not have been too bad except that his face was not the most handsome, and that wasn't too bad either, except he obviously hadn't washed it even with a splash of water in a while, and he didn't seem to have brushed his hair recently, or perhaps his life. The uncaring, slumped way he stood didn't help. He looked desperate for a bit of attention, maybe even a compliment, and on one hand she'd love to give that to the kid so he'd be a bit more confident, and she was sure Nadia would want her to give him some advice about upkeeping his appearance too – but he looked the type of desperate-for-a-compliment where he'd decide Valkyrie was his one true love if she dared. She tried to think of a middle ground. "Perhaps I just have a violent nature though. We could all do with being a bit more peace-keeping, like you."