“What are you doing?” he repeated.
“Hunting ghosts.” Osian felt guilty about the note burning a hole in his pocket. He did intend to hand over the evidence at some point; just not quite yet. “How about you?”
Haider stepped closer to him. “You’ll be pleased to know Archie Dennis has been eliminated as a suspect. Our forensic team discovered DNA at both crime scenes not connected to the victims. Your friend wasn’t a match.”
“You’ve got the killer’s DNA.” Osian stared at him. “Should you be telling me this?”
“I’m hoping it’ll deter your voracious curiosity.”
“Someone read their word of the day calendar this morning.” Osian fingered the note in his pocket. He’d already taken photos of it; those would work for his own investigation. “We found something.”
“Of course you did.” Haider pinched the bridge of his nose. “What is it?”
“Agatha Daniels found a note in one of the ruined dresses.”
“And you’ve all obviously touched the paper.” Haider groaned. He counted to ten under his breath, making Osian snicker. “If you’re going to trample around crime scenes, you could at least have the decency to learn how to safely deal with evidence so you’re not ruining my case for me.”
“I didn’t find the bloody paper. It was handed to me.” Osian was glad he’d thought to take photos, since Haider was definitely not going to let him see the note again. “And now I’m giving it to you.”
“As you always intended.”
“Of course.” Osian itched to ask more questions. He had a feeling Haider wasn’t feeling very chatty. “Never occurred to me to withhold evidence.”
“You’ve already taken photos of it, haven’t you?” Haider peered knowingly at him.
“No idea what you’re talking about.” Osian was the picture of innocence.
“Osian.” Haider massaged his forehead for several seconds. “Maybe stick to ghosts and reporting on crimes? Not investigating them?”
“Have you found a match to the DNA at the crime scene?”
“Osian.”
“So, no.” Osian smiled winningly at Haider. “Any top suspects?”
“You, if you don’t keep your nose out of my case.”
“Not very professional of you.” Osian ignored the groan from the detective inspector.
With a huff of frustration, Haider stomped away from him. Osian waited until he was out of sight, then went back to inspecting the poster. These are all blending together. If I have dreams about autographs attacking me, I’m going to be hacked off.
Wait. Blending. Now there’s an idea. What if I use photos of each signature to compare online? There has to be a way to shift one on top of the other to see what the differences are.
Eight snaps later, Osian had a decent close-up of each cluster of signatures on the poster. He didn’t know for sure what he’d be able to discover. It didn’t hurt to try, though.
Comparing signatures wouldn’t hurt anyone, would it?
With the police lurking around the theatre again, Osian decided to head home. Haider would probably chase him off eventually. I’ll check in on rehearsals and make sure Ian’s doing all right.
Not that I’m snooping.
Not me.
Slipping through the door to the backstage area, Osian had to squeeze by boxes of props and a rack of costumes on the right. A crack above his head caught his attention. He threw himself back as a massive light crashed to the floor in a cacophony of sound, broken glass, and metal.
Am I alive?
Yes, of course I am. I’m talking to myself, for crying out loud.
Right. I’m not dead. How hurt am I?
Lying on his back, Osian quickly determined a cut to his forehead, a potential concussion, and a slice to his arm were his only injuries. Of those, the first worried him the most. He didn’t recall getting hit on the head.
Someone had to have heard that, right?
I’m not sure I want to stand up without help.
Bugger.
Haider’s going to kill me.
“Of course, of course, who else would it sodding be?”
Osian sat up with a pained groan, peering through the blood dripping from the cut on his forehead at an agitated Haider. “Thanks for the concern. I didn’t bash myself over the head on purpose. Git.”
“Take it easy.” Haider crouched down in front of him. “Don’t move. We’ve got paramedics on the way. Can you tell me what happened?”
“Massive light dropped out of the ceiling on me.” Osian motioned toward the wreckage behind him. “Someone should dust for fingerprints.”
“Osian.”
“What? For once, I haven’t tampered with your crime scene.”
“You are the crime scene.” Haider held a hand out to stop him from getting up.
“Bit rude.”
Twenty
Dannel
“Don’t panic.” Roland’s first words when Dannel answered the phone didn’t soothe his nerves. “Osian’s had an accident. He’s okay.”
“Don’t panic?” Dannel tried to keep his cool. He did. “I’m fine. Calm. Breathing.”
“Osian’s okay. I swear. Just a few stitches. I’m at the hospital with him,” Roland promised. “Wayne’s on his way over to pick you up.”
“What hospital?”
“He’s at the urgent care centre at St Mary’s. It was the closest. They’ve only taken him as a precaution to check on his head injury. Plus the stitches.” Roland told him to hold on for a second. Dannel leaned heavily against the back of the sofa, waiting while his brother had a muffled conversation with someone. “He’s going to be fine.”
“Rolly.”
“Wayne should be there in a few minutes. He was already near your flat. Why don’t you go downstairs to meet him?” Roland stopped for a second time to speak with someone. “Go on. I’ll text you with updates once I’ve seen your Oz-man.”
“Rolly?” Dannel stared at his phone, then dropped it into his pocket. He hunted down his keys, shoved his feet into his trainers, and rushed out of the flat, straight into Myron. “No.”
“Son?”
“No time.” Dannel started forward, turned back to lock the door, and then barrelled past Myron. He took the stairs four at a time. “Go bother someone else.”
Myron followed him all the way out of the building and didn’t seem inclined to leave. “What’s wrong? Has something happened?”
The absolute last thing Dannel wanted to deal with in a crisis was Myron. Whatever his intentions, it only served to add further tension to the moment. Why can’t he go away?
“Dannel, sweetheart.”
Dannel groaned inwardly when he spotted his mum, auntie, and uncle coming out of the shop. Hurry up, Wayne. “Did Rolly call you?”
“Of course.” His mum stepped up, pressing her hands against his cheeks then drawing him into a hug. “Your brother will watch over him until we get to the hospital.”
“It’s just stitches.” Dannel didn’t think either he or Osian needed their circus of an extended family showing up to the urgent care centre. “He doesn’t want a fuss.”
“You don’t want a fuss.” His mum patted his cheek and stepped back. “We’ll be quiet as—”
“Our lot doesn’t know how to do quiet.” Dannel was relieved to see Wayne’s vehicle in the distance. “Honestly. Ossie will be embarrassed if you’re all crowding him for a scratch to the head.”
“You shouldn’t go alone.”
Dannel shifted his attention from his mum to Myron. “I won’t be alone. Wayne and Roland will be there with us. Plus Osian. It wasn’t life-threatening. Rolly would’ve said.”
“Are you coming then?” Wayne lowered the window and got Dannel’s attention.
“Hang on.” Dannel gestured to the gathered circle of his family.
“They can’t all fit in here,” Wayne muttered. He nodded over to the passenger seat. “We’re on a bit of a time crunch. I’m suppos
ed to be meeting with a client in an hour.”
Dannel opted to hop into the vehicle quickly, giving him time to make an escape before the others realised what was happening. “The sooner we get there, the better.”
“You’re in for it when they catch up with you.” Wayne eased into traffic while Dannel adjusted his seat belt. “Your mum’s going to hate me.”
“You’re in love with her youngest son. Her baby. Treat Rolly right, and you’ve nothing to worry about.” Dannel settled into the seat, tapping his fingers against his knee. He wanted to see Osian. He’s fine. They’ve said as much. Stop sodding panicking. “She’ll tell me off later.”
“Mums usually do.” Wayne stopped for a light. He patted Dannel’s hand where his fingers still tapped incessantly against his leg. “Osian’s fine.”
“Fine? Fine. Fine. We keep throwing the word around. He’s getting his head stitched up.” Dannel crossed his arms to keep from tapping again. “How fine can he be?”
They arrived at the hospital relatively quickly, even with traffic. Dannel rushed inside, leaving Wayne to head off to his meeting. Roland met him at the entrance and led him through to where Osian was being stitched up.
“He’s had a lucky escape.” Roland kept his voice low to avoid disturbing the nurses. “They didn’t find anything when they scanned his noggin.”
“Oi. They found my brain,” Osian called out.
“You know what I meant.” Roland glared over his shoulder at Osian before returning his attention to Dannel. “See? He’s all right. Hard-headed prat that he is.”
“Isn’t empathy a requirement for being a police officer?” Osian ignored the nurse who tutted at him. “It should be.”
Standing silently in the corner, Dannel watched the nurse wrap things up. A doctor wandered in a few minutes later. Dannel was too stressed to process what had been said; he barely registered they were on their way out of the hospital several minutes later.
“Earth to Dannel?” Osian nudged him in the side. “Which one of us was whacked in the head?”
“Don’t joke.” Dannel blinked a few times, making himself focus on the present and not all the possibilities of what might’ve happened. “We’ve got to stop investigating on our own.”
“Or maybe quit investigating altogether? You’re not the police.” Roland led them out to the hospital parking garage. “Come on. I’ll get you two home.”
“And deal with Mum?” Dannel would pay to not have to fend off their well-meaning family. He had no doubts they’d be smothered with attention and food. “Please?”
Roland fished his keys out of his pocket, pausing to stare at Dannel. “Fine.”
They managed to sneak into their flat without anyone noticing. Roland promised to convince their mum to give them some time for Osian to rest. She’d probably hold out for a day at most.
Despite claiming to be okay, Osian sank onto the couch with an air of pure exhaustion. Dannel joined him a second later. He listened while Osian caught him up on what happened after he’d left the theatre.
“Was anyone near you when the light fell?” Dannel stretched his legs out to prop his feet up on the coffee table. Osian twisted around to lie down on the cushions and rest his head on Dannel’s thigh. “Everyone was there when I left.”
“Pretty sure none of them had gone. Haider was there as well. Didn’t see his partner, but I imagine she was there as well.” Osian grabbed the blanket off the back of the couch and used it as a cushion for his head. “There are no cameras backstage to see. I didn’t see anyone above when I stopped seeing stars, but I imagine they could’ve rigged the light to fall. I might just be the unlucky sod who walked through at the right time.”
“Something’s not right at the Evelyn Lavelle.” Dannel had gone into their play at an investigation assuming they’d find a prankster poking fun at Ian. Now they had three murders and someone had dropped a light on Osian. “We know Archie didn’t do it.”
“Right.”
Dannel glanced down to find Osian drifting off to sleep. “Yes, you’re going to be so very helpful right now.”
“Right.”
Leaving Osian to rest, Dannel managed to snag the remote and game controller off the coffee table. He queued up The Hobbit and allowed his mind to wander. How do we figure out who the killer is?
Without dying ourselves, obviously.
More importantly, how do we convince our mums to not beat down the door to make sure we’re okay?
And eating.
Why are mums always so worried about eating?
Twenty-One
Osian
Waking up the following morning, Osian regretted doing so almost immediately. His head ached, particularly around the sutures, though sleeping on his back had helped a little. He was definitely going to need a few Paracetamol to get him through the day.
“Dannel? Love?” Osian stretched an arm out, finding nothing but empty sheets. “Hello?”
“Try opening your eyes.” Dannel’s voice came from the doorway.
Osian forced his eyes open. He sat up slowly in the bed, tucking his pillow behind him for support. “You’re up early.”
“Our mums showed up at seven.”
“Our mums?” Osian didn’t know if pain meds would be sufficient to get him through the morning. “Both of them? Together? Here?”
“I’ve fobbed them off on my uncle.” Dannel came over with a tray. “They made breakfast for us. Some sort of pastry from your mum, and mine made the coffee cake you love.”
“With cinnamon swirls and extra crumbles on top?”
“I ate it.”
“Bastard.” Osian grinned when Dannel handed him a plate containing the obviously uneaten cake and a few breakfast pastries. “I should get a concussion more often. Forget I said that. Terrible plan.”
“Haider called, wants you to meet him to give a statement. Ian stopped by after the mums did, worried about you. Rolly showed up as well.” Dannel sat on the bed, grabbing one of the pastries for himself. “Turns out you were right. The police think someone set up the lighting to fall. They loosened or removed enough of the screws attaching it to the rigging, it was doomed for failure. One of the techs thought it might’ve taken a few days to finally drop.”
“A few days?” Osian had assumed someone had been up in the rafters watching.
“Also, Rolly ‘insists we stop mucking about in a police investigation.’ Direct quote.” Dannel sipped his mug of tea. “Bit hard to take him seriously when I remember him wearing Winnie the Pooh slippers for a whole year and refusing any other kind of footwear.”
“Remember when he insisted on us calling him Noddy for months?” Osian finished up his pastry and grabbed the coffee cake. He’d saved the best for last. “We should check on Ian. Make sure he’s all right.”
“You’re supposed to be resting today.”
Osian gingerly probed around the stitches. The nurse had done a brilliant job. His head was still tender, and his arm had developed some spectacularly coloured bruises. “How taxing can an afternoon at the theatre be?”
“Three murders? A ghost? A light dropping on your head?”
“Details.”
The light had definitely been set up to hurt someone. No one could’ve considered it a harmless prank. A step to either side and Osian would’ve had a more severe injury to deal with.
What’ve we got?
Howard, Niall, Birdie.
Me?
The light likely hadn’t been intended for him. The killer couldn’t have known who the light would fall on, which made Osian question whether they’d believed it would drop instantly. If so, who had the actual target been?
Haider wasn’t likely to share his thoughts on the subject. Pity. Osian would’ve loved to pick the detective’s brain.
“If we’re going to the theatre, you’re going to have to run the gauntlet of our family. I’ve no doubt the mums are at the shop, keeping an eagle eye out for us.” Dannel grabbed the last pastry off the
plate. “We need a diversion.”
“When has that ever worked?” Osian could think of multiple times as kids when they’d tried to get one over on their parents with limited success. “Disguise?”
“Think they’d notice if Garrus and Nathan Drake snuck out of the building together?”
“Probably.” Osian knew his mum, at least, kept up with their cosplay. She had a full photo album with them. “We could try walking out. Maybe they won’t be looking.”
“It’s tragic how terrified of our mums we are.”
Osian grinned at him. They snickered together like young teenagers. “Let me get cleaned up.”
“I’ll help.”
“Help?” Osian wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. He chuckled when Dannel frowned at him. “Flirting, love.”
“With help in the shower when you’re injured?” Dannel asked.
“Never mind.” Osian waved his hand. “Just chalk it up to a weird neurotypical thing.”
Dannel continued to frown at him before finally getting up and heading toward the en suite. “I’ll get the water running. We’ll have to be careful to not get your head wet.”
Yes, let’s not get my head wet.
Don’t laugh. He won’t understand, and he’ll be annoyed about it. Don’t laugh.
One of Dannel’s greatest frustrations was his inability to grasp certain types of humour. Osian did his best to make sure they could share a laugh. He didn’t want to ever leave Dannel out of a joke.
“Don’t we have a spare shower cap leftover from the time we built the tub costume?” Osian checked his arm over carefully. He hadn’t needed stitches on it, but the bandage on the cut likely needed to be changed. “Let’s get Operation: Avoid Mum in gear.”
“Worst Bond movie ever.”
“Operation: Avoid Mum. She’ll have her tea stirred with one sugar and no milk.” Osian winked at Dannel who rolled his eyes. “What? Adele can do the theme song.”
“I worry about you.”
Ghost Light Killer Page 12
