Ghost Light Killer

by Dahlia Donovan

  Dannel eyed the pyjamas before grabbing them and changing in the kitchen, kicking his jeans and shirt to the side.

  “I do like sausage and veg in the kitchen.” He grinned when Dannel snorted. Success. Stage one of lifting his spirits completed. “Tea? Beer? Coke? Grab whatever drink you want. I’ll plate up all this goodness I picked up for us. Don’t forget the shakes in the fridge.”

  Experience told Osian not to press for conversation yet. Dannel would talk about his dad’s visit when he was ready and not before. Pushing would only lead to his shutting down completely.

  They sat on the floor around the coffee table, putting on a video game playthrough on YouTube to entertain them while eating. Dannel had grabbed a package of crisps, as onion rings weren’t his favourite. They ate quietly.

  “How did the theatre go?” Dannel finally emerged from his nap haze.

  Osian shoved the onion ring in his hand into his mouth. “Oddly. I’ll show you the ink stains I found on one of the costumes. Plus, the infamous ghost tried to lock me into Birdie’s room.”

  “The ghost?” Dannel licked the ketchup dripping from his burger. “Can they turn locks?”

  “This one did.” Osian scoffed another onion ring. “The door slammed shut and wouldn’t budge initially. By the time I got outside, no one was there.”

  “Suspicious, but not a proof of paranormal activity.” He picked at the cheese on his burger. “Why don’t we stake out the theatre? Could Ian get us inside at night?”

  “Probably. Or we could go high-tech with our paranormal investigation. I bet Chris could set us up with some of his spy gear.” Osian figured a few hidden cameras might catch more than the ghost. “I’ll text Abs to see if she knows where her boy toy is.”

  Chris Kirwin worked for a security company. He never talked about what he did. They knew he’d been in the military; Osian thought he got a thrill out of being mysterious.

  The man had been instrumental in helping them solve Gemma’s murder. He’d also saved Osian’s life. It made him almost worthy of dating Abra, in Osian’s opinion.

  “Invite him to the dinner,” Dannel suggested. He glanced into his cup and grumbled. “Why is it empty?”

  “You drank it.” Osian hid his grin by grabbing another onion ring. He casually slid his own shake across the table. “You can have the rest of mine.”

  “True. Love.” Dannel mimicked one of their favourite movie moments.

  “Okay, if you start talking like the priest from Princess Bride, I’m taking my shake back.” Osian dug his phone out from under the stack of blankets. “Why don’t we see if Roland and Wayne are still up for hosting the sing-a-long and interrogation of Archie tomorrow? Maybe they can sneak Chris onto the list if he isn’t already.”

  “Abra’s going to think you’re meddling again.”

  “Who, me? Eh.” Osian knew it would be entertaining to see Abra and Chris dance around each other. “What’s the worst that can happen?”

  “Famous last words.” Dannel leaned against the edge of the sofa with a groan, shoving the coffee table away to get more space. “Biscoff shakes are deadly.”

  Slouching on the carpet together, they quietly watched the telly for a few minutes. Osian loved their quiet moments together. His favourite time of the day.

  “You smell of onion.” Dannel shoved Osian’s head off his shoulder. “Disgusting.”

  Ahh, romance.

  “Don’t you want to cuddle with me?”

  “Would you want to cuddle with a raw onion?” Dannel put a pillow in his face when Osian tried to lean toward him. “I love you unconditionally with fresh breath.”

  Eight

  Dannel

  The magical scent of coffee drew Dannel out of bed. He rolled on his back, stretching out across the blankets. Osian had obviously gotten up early to walk with Abra and edit the podcast.

  They were already a day behind on uploading the first part of the deep dive into the theatre mysteries. Dragging himself out of bed, Dannel trudged across the hall into their office. It did double duty as his creative space.

  One of the first changes they’d made had been to exchange the desk for a proper cutting table. They’d found two drawer units at IKEA to use as the base and added a sturdy wooden top harvested from an old dining room table. It allowed them both to work in the space, cut all sorts of fabric, and offered a flat surface to photograph their creations.

  Multiple shelves along the left wall were lined with containers filled with supplies. Finished creations went into the closet. Unique pieces, like a detailed weapon fabricated out of a Nerf gun, had been set on the walls as decoration.

  The weapon had been part of Osian’s Zaeed Massani cosplay from a few years back. Zaeed was from one of their favourite games from the Mass Effect trilogy. Dannel had been particularly proud of how Jessie, a replica of the character’s weapon, had turned out.

  On the wall closest to the door, they’d created a giant pinboard. Project ideas, character screenshots, and commission details were placed on it. They used it to keep on track of their growing business.

  Or, as Olivia had claimed after helping them design the room, it added to the ambience.

  Aesthetics.

  She’d been the mastermind behind adding several extra lights, including one directly over the cutting table. Dannel appreciated them on grey days, of which London had many. She’d also brought in a Steampunk vibe with a few odds and ends around the room, items on the shelves, the slight golden tint to the paint on the walls, and a few extra pieces of artwork.

  Dannel often felt like he went to work in a lab straight from a video game. “I can hear you breathing in the hallway.”

  “Your uncle Danny brought us a breakfast patty or five.” Osian held up the cling film-covered plate. He stood by the door, watching him. “Breakfast?”

  Patties were a classic Jamaican flaky pastry pie of sorts. His mum and his auntie Myriam made a breakfast version with spiced sausage, egg, and cheese. They often added diced potato.

  “Your auntie Myriam made them. I’ve had four already.”

  “Greedy git.”

  Myriam and Dannel “Danny” Ortea owned both the building of flats as well as the shop on the ground floor. His uncle had looked after his sister, Rolina, and her two sons. Dannel looked up to the man more than he did his own father.

  “Are we still going ghost hunting this morning?” Osian set the coffee down on the cutting table and leaned against it. “Chris is up for meeting us at the theatre. He’s got the day off apparently. I invited Abs to come along as well.”

  Dannel snickered into his coffee. “I’ll bring popcorn.”

  “She told me to sod off. Bit rude.” Osian pulled the cling film off the plate and handed it to Dannel. “Eat up. We don’t want to be too late.”

  Between finishing breakfast and showering together, which took longer than if they’d done so separately, they arrived quite late. Chris was standing outside the Evelyn Lavelle Theatre with an animated Ian chatting him up. Dannel elbowed Osian when he snickered.

  “Fancy seeing you here, darlings.” Ian waved coquettishly at them. He swatted Chris on the arm with his scarf. “This fine specimen has been keeping me company. Shall I let you into the theatre?”

  “Probably a wise idea,” Dannel muttered.

  “Yes, please.” Chris cursed under his breath, almost growling when Osian and Dannel snickered at the pleading in his voice. “Some days, I wonder why I saved your lives.”

  “No, you don’t.” Dannel glanced in Chris’s direction. “Right. Joking. You were making a joke. I didn’t laugh.”

  “Wasn’t a funny joke.” Osian threw his arm around Dannel’s shoulders. “We’ve had lots of coffee this morning.”

  “And sex.”

  “They didn’t need to know why we were late.” Osian choked out a laugh.

  “Git.” Dannel pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to stave off the flush of embarrassment. “The Matrix is glitching this morning.”r />
  “You can’t blame the Matrix for your verbal explosions.” Osian grabbed his side, laughing so hard he almost tipped over. “Verbal explosions.”

  “If you two nerds are quite finished?” Chris nodded to where Ian had already headed inside the theatre. “Though I’m happy to see Ian’s distracted.”

  “You’re a fine specimen,” Osian teased.

  “I can leave, you know.” Chris reached down to grab the duffle at his feet. “I brought several of these small cameras, including one with thermal imaging. They’re motion-activated as well. I’ve wanted a chance to test them out.”

  Osian hummed the Ghostbusters theme while they made their way down to Birdie’s room. Caution tape lay on the floor. “Ian?”

  “Yes, darling?”

  Osian knelt down to pick up the bright yellow tape. “Have the police finished up?”

  “I haven’t the foggiest.” Ian opened the door and stretched his arm out to flick the lights on. “Well, goodness me. It didn’t look like this yesterday.”

  Ruined costumes littered the room. Chris stepped up, blocking all three of them from stepping inside the room. They could clearly see the damage, even without going inside.

  Dannel let out a low whistle while they crowded the doorframe to view the frenzied destruction of all the intricate costumes Birdie and her assistants had created. “Is the ghost a deceased Edward Scissorhands?”

  “Chris,” Osian whined playfully. “Let us at least take some photos before Haider runs us off.”

  Chris narrowed his eyes before nodding. “Don’t touch anything. I’m not explaining why your grubby prints are everywhere.”

  “My fingers are clean.” Dannel scrutinized his hands. “Haider already cleared us. If anything, he’ll be hacked off we poked our nose into the investigation.”

  While Chris called the police, Osian and Dannel tried to inspect the room around the tall, human impediment in their way. It appeared someone had gone out of their way to destroy every costume for the play. Ian stood with a hand on his chest; and his other covered his mouth in shock.

  “Ian?” Osian caught him by the arm, holding him up when he seemed to go faint. “Are you all right? Why don’t we find somewhere for you to sit down? Come on. I’ll help you to your dressing room.”

  “Ghost,” Ian whispered.

  “Whatever or whoever it is, I promise we’ll stop them.” Osian glanced back at Dannel before leading the weak Ian down the hall.

  Chris pocketed his phone and leaned against the doorway. “Detective Inspectors Khan and Powell are on their way. They hadn’t released the scene yet, so no one should’ve been inside.”

  Dannel shifted awkwardly in the hallway. He reached into his backpack to pull out his camera; they’d upgraded it to get better shots for their website. “Think the police would mind if I took a few photos?”

  “Probably.” Chris stepped out of the way. “Go on. I imagine the façade of a dinner party tonight will love to get a closer look at the crime scene.”

  Dannel took a quick video of the crime scene first and then began to get zoomed-in shots of every angle possible. “Façade. We’re going to have actual food. It’s a singalong with food and a side of Cluedo. Git.”

  “Nerd.”

  “Hardly an insult.” Dannel probably had worn his nerd badge long before the world decided they were cool. “Chris?”

  “Yes, nerd?” Chris grinned at him. His smile fell away at the look at Dannel’s face. “What? I was only joking.”

  “No, don’t be daft as well as a git.” Dannel pointed into the room. A glint off one of the dress forms had caught his eye through the lens. “Someone’s stabbed scissors into the back. A message from the killer?”

  “To whom?”

  He had a point. Birdie was already dead. Using a similar weapon plunged into a dress form sent a warning, but the question was: who had been the intended recipient?

  Ian? Us? The police? Doubtful. Someone else in the company?

  “It’s not over, is it?” Dannel put the cap on his camera and carefully stored it in his bag. “Bugger. Am I reading too much into a pair of scissors?”

  “Not when they’re stabbing the back of a red garment draped on a mannequin.” Chris caught him by the shoulder to ease him away from the door. “I imagine the police will be here shortly. Let’s not make it obvious we snooped.”

  Nine

  Osian

  After settling Ian in his dressing room with hot tea and a cadre of his theatre admirers to soothe his nerves, Osian decided to sneak around backstage before the police arrived. He saw no evidence of an intruder. The sound of running footsteps drew him deeper into the building toward a set of stairs leading into the basement.

  Nothing. Someone genuinely wants everyone to believe there’s a ghost. Bellend. What are they getting from this?

  They can’t honestly believe the police will stop investigating a murder and try for an exorcism instead.

  What absolute rubbish.

  Osian went halfway down the stairs towards the darkened basement where old props were stored. “You know, maybe I’ll wait for Haider. They’re getting paid to investigate.”

  I don’t believe in ghosts, but a little caution never hurt anyone.

  Taking the steps two at a time, Osian jogged back to Dannel and Chris. He found them mid-conversation with the two detective inspectors, who didn’t seem thrilled by the invasion of their crime scene. What a surprise.

  Or maybe it was Dannel’s unwillingness to chat with them.

  Time for an intervention.

  “Hello, Detectives.” Osian sidled up to Dannel, casually drawing attention away from him. He could tell Dannel was teetering on the edge of being overstimulated. “Fancy meeting you here. Have you seen the destruction of your crime scene? Not very secure, now was it?”

  “Mr Garey.” Detective Inspector Powell had definitely reached the limit of her patience for the day. “We’d intended to release the crime scene this morning as it was.”

  The “not that it’s any of your business” was left unsaid. Osian smiled brightly. He’d always found it the perfect way to distract from any situation.

  Smile.

  People never know how to react.

  “Music.” Dannel fished into his backpack and pulled out his earbuds. He wandered off down the hall with them firmly in his ears. “Bye.”

  Osian shifted into the centre of the hallway. If Dannel wanted space, he’d get it. The detectives can bugger off if they’ve a problem with it. “So, what do you make of the slice and dice job done to Birdie’s costumes? Odd, isn’t it?”

  “We can’t comment on an ongoing investigation.” Detective Inspector Khan tried to maintain a stern glare in the face of Osian’s forceful grin. “Did you touch anything?”

  “Aside from myself or Dannel?” Osian ignored Chris, who coughed violently and turned away from them. He peered into the room. “Nope. We arrived this morning and stayed outside like the good lads we are. You might find the stabby scissors of particular interest.”

  “Osian.” Haider lost his battle and chuckled. “Stabby scissors?”

  “You can’t miss them.” He pointed toward the dress form. “Sinister placement.”

  “Osian.”

  With one last grin for the detectives, Osian dragged Chris down the hallway toward the back stairs. He wanted reinforcements while he tried to hunt down the ghost. Not that I believe in paranormal hauntings.

  “Where are we going?” Chris followed him, hesitating at the top of the steps. “Any particular reason we’re going into a dark basement?”

  “Ossie’s afraid of ghosts.” Dannel sat further down the hall. He had his earbuds in his hand. “I’m guessing he heard something again.”

  “Well, we obviously can’t string up cameras with the detectives all over the dressing rooms. Let’s see what we’ve got in the basement in the meantime.” Chris shifted his bag from one arm to the other. “I’m getting tired of lugging all this equipment around.�
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  “With those muscles?” Osian chose to ignore Dannel’s comment about the ghosts. He decided to needle Chris instead. “Come on, granddad. Let’s get downstairs so we can get around to putting up the cameras.”

  “What are you expecting to find down here other than dusty curtains and props?” Chris followed Osian, who pulled Dannel along for the ride. They went down the two flights of stairs, through the squeaky doors into the storage area. “Think they used this as an air raid shelter? It’s sturdy.”

  “No clue. The building’s old enough.” Osian fumbled around before finding the light switch. He blinked to get accustomed to the sudden brightness. A grey object partially hidden underneath an old set of stage curtains caught his eye. “What are you? Why in the world is there a Bluetooth speaker down here? No one’s listening to music in this dusty tomb.”

  “One of the cast trying to rehearse in peace and quiet?” Dannel suggested. “It’s where I’d go. I doubt anyone comes down here very often from the thick layer of dust.”

  Osian crouched down to inspect underneath the curtain further. “Nothing else here aside from the speaker.”

  “Not sure I call this nothing.” Dannel gestured toward all of the stacks of old posters, curtains, props, and even a few costumes on clothing racks. “I wouldn’t say this is empty.”

  “Nothing connected to this.” Osian flung it halfway across the room a second later when the lights flickered and an ear-piercing shriek came out of the speaker. “What the actual—”

  “So, I’m definitely adding one of my cameras to the staircase pointing at this room.” Chris went over to retrieve the speaker. “I might ask Detective Inspector Khan to see what he makes of this.”

  “Right. And we should do that. Upstairs.” Osian had already started for the door with Dannel close behind. “Don’t pretend you’re not at least a little bit uneasy about ghosts.”