Ghost Light Killer

by Dahlia Donovan

  “Osian?” Dannel sounded worried. “What’s wrong?”

  Osian had to clear his throat a few times. He fell backwards away from what he knew would be a body. “You need to call Haider.”

  “Why?” Chris asked.

  “Ossie?” Dannel poked his head into the room.

  “They missed a body.”

  Sixteen

  Dannel

  “I could be having pizza right now.” Dannel shifted uncomfortably in the chair. He stared across the auditorium to where Osian sat. “Warm, cheesy, delicious slices of Italian brilliance.”

  The police had arrived quite quickly when Chris called and hadn’t been pleased or surprised to find Osian and Dannel in the middle of their investigation. Then again, who expected to find a body in the basement?

  Anyone who’s ever watched a true crime show on the telly?

  Or listened to our podcast?

  After cordoning off the stairs for the second time, Haider had separated the three of them in the auditorium. Chris sat near the stage, Osian lorded it up in one of the boxes, and Dannel slumped into the back row near the exit. Far enough from each other talking wasn’t going to be an issue.

  He hadn’t thought to remove their phones, so it didn’t take long for them to join a group chat.

  Osian: In retrospect, getting pizza first would’ve been a wise decision.

  Dannel: Think Haider will let us order in? Bet we could get some delivered. I’m starving.

  Chris: We found a dead body. Could you two try to focus?

  Osian: Yeah, Bond, I’m fully aware. My stomach isn’t.

  Chris: I’m not James Bond.

  Osian: If the shoe fits.

  Dannel: Is he the same size as Daniel Craig?

  Osian: Not the point.

  “What part of don’t talk amongst yourself did you miss?” Haider stepped into the auditorium from the exit by the stage. “I can hear you muttering up there, Garey. Don’t protest your innocence. You’re like teenagers sent to sit outside the headmistress’s office, whispering amongst yourselves. Quit sending notes.”

  “No whispering was involved,” Dannel insisted.

  “Typing, then.”

  With a roll of his eyes, Haider waved them all over. Osian disappeared through the door of his box and reappeared a minute later behind the detective. They followed Haider down the hall through to the lobby.

  “I’m heading to the station. Can I give you a lift?”

  “Polite yet firm way of saying we’re about to be interrogated.” Osian draped an arm across Dannel’s shoulders. “So, who was the poor sod under the flats?”

  “Flats?”

  “Stage backdrops,” Dannel answered Haider’s question.

  Haider glanced between the three men. He seemed to consider his answer for a moment. “Niall Bishop.”

  Dannel started in surprise. He exchanged a look with Osian, who appeared equally shocked. “Niall?”

  Is this why Archie was at the theatre?

  Without even asking, Dannel knew Osian was considering the same thought. Archie had run off when Osian spotted him. Had there been a more sinister reason for his presence at the Evelyn Lavelle?

  Something odd was definitely going on at the theatre. Three murders. Seemingly unconnected. Plus a ghost. Was it all the same person?

  Had Niall killed Birdie?

  “I haven’t killed anyone.”

  Dannel tuned back in to the conversation as Osian’s voice rose. “What?”

  “This numpty asked if we had anything to do with it.” Osian folded his arms across his chest, glowering at the detective.

  “Standard questions I’ve got to ask everyone,” Haider insisted. “Please don’t make this more difficult.”

  Difficult, when Osian was his regular self, was the default setting. Dannel didn’t think Haider would find that comforting. He’d initially met Osian when he’d been at the start of recovering from traumatic events.

  Healing does take time.

  Dannel had wondered for a while if Osian would ever fully return to himself, the jovial, teasing man who’d laughed his way through life while caring deeply about those around him. “Ossie didn’t murder anyone.”

  “We’re aware.” Detective Inspector Powell joined them. “It would make our lives so much easier if you weren’t the ones showing up with the dead bodies all the time.”

  “I didn’t stumble on Niall on purpose,” Osian protested indignantly. “We’re not trying to complicate the investigation.”

  After a long lecture on avoiding crime scenes in the future, the detectives let them go. Chris invited them to his place. Dannel knew they all wanted to discuss what had happened. They picked up pizzas on the way over, six of them plus Nutella rings and beer.

  “What a day.” Chris sat on his leather armchair, waving them at the couch. He grabbed one of the boxes of pizza and a beer. “How do you two keep finding these bizarre mysteries?”

  “Three bodies and a ghost.” Osian shuffled through the boxes to find one of the pepperoni ones. “Sounds like a Netflix movie.”

  “Starring Samuel L. Jackson as the ghost.” Dannel popped the cap of his beer using the edge of the table, earning a glare from Chris. “I’d watch it.”

  “You’d cosplay as the ghost.” Osian grabbed a slice of pizza, using the box as a plate. “The question I have is whether or not Archie knew Niall was dead.”

  “Knew he was dead?” Dannel wondered if their gentle ginger giant had fooled all of them. Was he capable of murdering his boyfriend? And his mother? “Or killed him?”

  “Did you notice anything out of the ordinary in the basement?” Chris wiped pizza sauce from his face and grabbed his bottle of beer.

  “Other than the lifeless hand? No.” Osian set his pizza down on the coffee table. “What about the cameras? Did they catch it?”

  “Motion capture cameras aren’t perfect.” Chris went for a second slice of pizza. “We used them in the hopes anytime someone entered the stairwell, it’d trigger them. So either someone purposefully disrupted the Wi-Fi signal or messed with the camera itself.”

  “Or the camera failed on its own.” Dannel knew no matter how expensive the technology; nothing was perfect. “Maybe this is why the police still do stakeouts instead of solely relying on CCTV footage.”

  “So, what are you going to do now?” Chris prompted after several minutes of silent eating. “Find Archie?”

  Osian glanced over at Dannel. “Smash this pizza, check in on Ian since Haider wouldn’t say how he’s doing, and see how Archie responds to Niall’s death.”

  “And I’ll see if the cameras were a complete fail or if there’s something on them.”

  “We’re so glad you used this murder investigation for untested equipment.” Osian saluted Chris with his beer.

  “Ossie.” Dannel couldn’t tell if Osian was being serious or teasing. Chris was laughing, so he assumed it had been a joke. “Why don’t I help with the footage? I can watch while I’m working on my new costume commission.”

  “Sure. Leave me the hard part of trying to get Ian to speak sense. You know he’s going to be flailing dramatically.” Osian shoved his pizza box to the side and grabbed for one of the Nutella rings. “I’m going to need something to sustain me.”

  “Or put you to sleep.” Dannel was already feeling the start of a food coma. “How much pizza is too much?”

  “No such thing. Don’t be daft.” Osian managed to fit an entire slice of the chocolate-hazelnut pizza ring into his mouth. “I might be sick.”

  By the time they got home, Dannel felt like the day had been three centuries long. He grabbed his earbuds, stripped out of his clothes, and collapsed on the bed with a groan. Osian simply opened the windows to allow some fresh air into the stuffy flat and let him bleed off the day listening to music.

  I love how he never tries to make me fit into a non-autistic box.

  Seventeen

  Osian

  The following morning, Osian knew
immediately Dannel had pushed himself too hard over the last few days. He had a tendency to ignore the signs of overload. Sleeping in had been the first sign.

  Dannel didn’t sleep in when the smell of coffee filled the flat.

  “Why don’t I let you have the flat to yourself? I want to track down Archie.” Osian set a mug of tea and a plate of leftover pizza on the nightstand.

  Getting ready to go out, Osian exited the bathroom to find Dannel had trudged across to his workspace. He was singing along to “Wait For It” from the Hamilton cast album, pizza and coffee on the desk far away from his sketchbook. Right. He’s sorted for the day.

  Osian went into the room, pressing a kiss to the top of Dannel’s head. “I’ll be back later.”

  Not taking the silence personally, Osian returned to the bedroom. He changed into jeans and a comfortable T-shirt. Despite rain the day before, the weather was still absolutely boiling.

  Okay.

  What do I need to do? Track down Archie, see what he knows about Niall’s death. If he knows about it. Head to the theatre and make sure Ian’s not stressing himself into a heart attack.

  “I love you.”

  Osian chuckled at the shout coming from further into the apartment. “Love you too.”

  No matter how stressed out, Dannel had a habit of never leaving or having Osian go without saying “I love you.” What if one of us dies? What if our last words to each other are something absolutely stupid like “don’t forget to clean the toilet?”

  He had a point.

  “Osian? Darling?” Ian poked his head out of his flat when Osian jogged down the stairs. “Can you come inside?”

  “Are you all right?” Osian skidded to a halt and retracted the last few steps. Ian seemed more a wilted flower than his bright, sprightly self. “No rehearsals this morning?”

  “Postponed.” Ian wrapped his lush dressing robe around him more tightly. “Care for an espresso?”

  “Never say no to coffee.” Osian followed him into the kitchen, where Ian carefully poured him a drink in one of his tiny, perfect cups. “You didn’t answer my question, though. Are you okay? Did the detective inspectors rough you up?”

  “You’re very sweet, darling. I’m perfectly fine.” Ian lowered himself into an armchair in the living room, reaching over to reduce the volume on the radio. “Young Haider was quite gentlemanly; even gave me a lift home.”

  “Another conquest?” Osian grinned.

  “A gentleman never kisses and tells, darling.” Ian sipped his espresso delicately. “They did mention when they returned after rushing out to the theatre that another body had been found.”

  “Oh?” Osian hoped Haider had been more forthcoming to Ian.

  “Yes, left me there at the police station. Languishing on my own.”

  “I’ll bet my last slice of pizza you had the constables wrapped around your fingers in no time at all.” Osian wasn’t buying the “woe is me” act from the man. “Am I wrong?”

  “I’ve no idea what you’re referring to. It’s perfectly natural for them to bring tea and pastries from the café around the corner.” Ian adjusted his robe slightly, brushing off a stray hair from his arm. “He only asked if I had been aware of Niall Bishop’s presence at the theatre. I wasn’t. My morning was spent on the stage, finalising the details of a tricky part of the first act.”

  Osian sipped the overly strong coffee, trying not to make faces at the bitter taste. “Be careful when you’re at the theatre.”

  “I am always careful, darling.”

  Careful might not be enough.

  They chatted for several minutes. Osian begged off a second coffee. He feared his heart might beat out of his chest from the sheer rush of adrenaline.

  Buzzing on caffeine, Osian decided to see if Archie was at his mum’s place. None of their friends had heard from him since yesterday. Guilty conscience? Or grieving son and boyfriend?

  He hoped it was the latter.

  The walk over to Birdie’s old flat helped Osian clear his head. He ran into Archie on the steps leading up to the building. His friend didn’t seem thrilled to see him.

  “Morning.” Osian refused to allow him to sneak by. “In a hurry?”

  Archie slowed his steps, likely realising Osian was too stubborn to not follow. “The police asked me to stop by the station.”

  “Is Wayne meeting you there?” He didn’t know if Archie had hurt either his mum or his boyfriend, but he believed in the wisdom of having a solicitor when the police had questions. “Arch. Tell me you gave him a call.”

  “He’s better things to do with his time than chase after me.”

  “Does he? If he’s your solicitor, I promise you, he doesn’t.” Osian grabbed his phone to text Wayne. “Archie. Will you slow down? The police can wait.”

  “You can explain why I’m late for my meeting with them.” Archie adjusted his stride slightly, so Osian wasn’t speed walking to keep up with him. “I’m sorry.”

  “For?”

  Murdering your boyfriend?

  Murdering your mum?

  “Running off yesterday.”

  Ahh.

  “No worries.” Osian waited for a few seconds, but Archie didn’t continue. “Why?”

  “I knew you’d have questions.” Archie dragged his fingers through his hair roughly, tugging hard on a few strands. “Seems sodding stupid to grumble about Niall cheating on me when he’s dead.”

  Osian watched Archie crumble in front of him. He seemed to shrink in on himself while tears filled his eyes. Damn it. “It’s all right.”

  “He was snogging half the company.”

  “Two people are not half the company.” Osian wasn’t entirely sure why he’d decided to defend Niall. He hadn’t liked what little he knew of the man. “Did you….”

  “Kill him?” Archie swiped angrily at the tears in his eyes. “Of course I didn’t bloody kill him. Or Mum. I wouldn’t. Couldn’t. How the hell can you ask me that?”

  Someone has to ask you before you get to the police station or you’re going to talk your way into a jail cell.

  I probably shouldn’t be so blunt with my questions.

  Osian glanced down at his phone to read the response from Wayne. “Your solicitor’s on his way to the police station. He’s already at the office. How do people wake up so early in the morning?”

  “You worked night shifts.”

  “By design.” Osian had volunteered for the late-night shifts, mostly to keep on the same schedule with Dannel. They’d preferred being able to eat meals and sleep together. “Could Niall have killed your mum?”

  “Osian.”

  “If you think two detective inspectors won’t be asking you even worse questions, you’ve clearly never listened to our podcast.” Osian had the occasional nightmare about his own police interrogation. He hoped never to see the inside of one of those rooms again. Haider made a far better friend than an adversary. “Archie?”

  “They're dead. Both of them? Is it too much to want this all to have been the worst nightmare ever?” Archie covered his face with his hands. “I’ve nothing left.”

  “You have friends, Arch, who love and adore their gentle ginger giant.” Osian wrapped his arm around his friend. “Let’s get you to the police station. We’ll walk slowly to give Wayne time. We’re going to get you through this.”

  Because I don’t want to believe you murdered anyone.

  It’d break my heart.

  Despite walking slowly, they managed to beat Wayne to the station. Some days in London, going on foot was far quicker than driving. Osian kept Archie from heading inside.

  “They’re waiting.”

  “They get paid to wait. The entire purpose of their being is to ask questions. It won’t hurt the illustrious detective inspectors to be patient.” Osian sat on one of the steps leading up to the building. “Can I ask about your mum?”

  “Go on.” Archie sat awkwardly beside him, legs stretched out to give him more room. “Ask away. I’
m done sobbing my eyes out.”

  “Did she have any enemies?”

  “None.”

  “Someone murdered her, Arch. She had enemies.” Osian pointed out. Being stabbed in the back by her own scissors was a highly personal way to kill someone. “It wasn’t an accident.”

  Archie stared out unseeing, silent for several long minutes. “Niall? Obviously. Not that I want to think he’s… he was capable of it.”

  “No one else?”

  “She never said. Competition in her industry might be tight, but I’d never imagined any of them capable of murder?” Archie’s statement came out more of a question than anything.

  “What about her fired assistant?”

  “Philippa?” Archie scratched his head, then tried to get his hair back into some semblance of order. “More of a wet noodle than a calculating murderer.”

  “She’d been fired.” Osian had covered a few cases on the podcast of people who’d found being sacked to be the final straw. “It’s a motive.”

  “Mum had exacting standards. She was lovely and sweet. And demanding. She went through a number of assistants. In fact, a couple of the cast had actually worked with her as well.” Archie tilted his head back to stare up at the sky. “Going to rain.”

  “It’s London.”

  “I miss the mountains.”

  Osian wondered if Archie would be rushing off at the first opportunity. “Do you?”

  “Mr Dennis. One of the constables thought they spotted you out here.” Detective Inspector Powell stood at the top of the steps. “If you’d come inside?”

  “We were—”

  “Just waiting for his solicitor.” Wayne jogged up to them, slightly out of breath. “Shall we?”

  The detective inspector didn’t seem overly pleased to see either Wayne or Osian. He didn’t take it personally. So far, he’d been a bit of a thorn in their side through two investigations.

  Following them into the station, Osian wondered if he could get away with pretending to be Wayne’s assistant. Detective Inspector Powell led Wayne and Archie through the door leading into the inner part of the station. Osian was left outside.