While Hope was pulled away by another member of the ensemble, Osian caught Dannel by the hand and slipped through the gathered crowd further into the theatre. He wanted to look at the damaged set for clues. If Ian called the police, they might not have a lot of time to snoop around for clues.
They managed to sneak around to where the ripped hand-painted scenery had been stacked along the walls. Osian knew the set designer had to be completely devastated. He had Dannel keep an eye while he inspected them for clues.
“What are we doing?” Dannel fidgeted beside him. “I mean, honestly, Ossie, what are you expecting to find?”
“A killer,” Osian muttered. He crouched next to one of the backdrops. “It seems so easy when we’re solving crimes as Sherlock Holmes.”
“That’s a video game.”
Osian couldn’t necessarily disagree with his assessment. “Life’s basically a video game.”
“You should put your words of wisdom on a T-shirt.”
“Did you wake up narky?” Osian grinned at Dannel, who rolled his eyes. “Clean cuts. Nothing jagged. Why do this?”
“It’s almost as if someone wants to stop the play, but they can’t bring themselves to take a drastic enough step. So it’s like they’re stabbing a hot air balloon with a tiny needle.” Dannel paused for a second, checking the doorway behind them. “It might eventually lose all the air. But it won’t end as quickly or dramatically as if you took a javelin to it.”
“Nothing like a javelin to burst your bubble. If the saboteur and the murderer aren’t the same person, the theory makes sense.” Osian loved how Dannel brought the world to his level to process. It always led to fascinating conversations. “How many people are running around with long spears?”
“Ossie.”
“Wait.” Osian grinned at Dannel. “Is a javelin a spear?”
Hope came racing toward them, skidding to a stop and grabbing Dannel’s arm to keep from falling over. “We can’t find Ian.”
“What do you mean, you can’t find Ian? I thought you were keeping guard over him,” Osian demanded.
“We’re not professionals,” Hope snapped. “We assumed he’d gone to recover in his dressing room with Edwin.”
With Edwin?
Bugger.
“With Edwin?” Osian repeated his question out loud this time.
“Ian was telling him off.” Hope barely got her sentence out before Dannel and Osian stormed by her.
They found Ian’s space empty, no signs of him or Edwin. Osian grabbed his phone and called their elderly neighbour and friend. No response. He pushed the fear in his belly aside; it was time to focus on what they could do.
“Dannel. Call Roland. Let him know Ian might’ve been abducted.” Osian hung up from his third attempt at contacting Ian. He scrolled through his contacts to find Chris’s number. “I’ll see if anything’s on the CCTV footage.”
Hunting through Ian’s room, they found nothing useful. Chris claimed the cameras only showed Ian had left the theatre with Edwin. He had no access to any of the CCTV outside the Evelyn Lavelle.
“Do we wait for Rolly or the detectives?” Dannel drew Osian’s attention away from his phone. He’d been texting frantically on their group chat. “Ossie?”
“Sorry. I’m putting together a search party.” Osian had purposefully kept Roland out of the chat. He might feel the need to involve Haider. “We’ll go in pairs. Chis, Archie, Evie, Abs, Olivia, and Drystan all want to join in trying to find Ian. I’ll text Haider in a bit to get them searching as well. Just don’t want them to try and stop us.”
“Why don’t I message my auntie and uncle? Or at least Adelle and Stanley. They can take their Thames for a walk and see if there’s any sign of Ian. He might’ve gone home, after all.” Dannel eased his phone out of his pocket. “It doesn’t explain why he’s not answering your calls, though.”
Osian motioned for Dannel to follow. “Let’s head outside. Anyone in the theatre could be an accomplice at this point. Not sure we want to give our plans away.”
They were met at the doors by Hope and Derrick. Osian didn’t think they’d get anything by the two dancers. They’d seemed to be the most protective over Ian.
“We’ll head to a couple of the other theatres. Maybe someone saw him.” Hope kept her voice low. She had an arm through Derrick’s. “I’ll message you if we find anything out.”
Leaving the two members of the ensemble to search the theatres, Dannel used a map of Covent Garden to section off areas and assign them to each pair. His knowledge of search and rescues from one of his firefighting training courses came in handy at times.
“Haider’s going to be pissed.” Dannel pocketed his phone. “Adelle and Stanley are trying out Thames’s skills at a rescue dog.”
“In our defence, we have learnt from our past mistakes.” Osian wasn’t sure the detective inspector would agree with his logic. Haider rarely did. “We aren’t going alone.”
Knowing the theatre scene as they did, their first stops had been to the series of cafés dotted around the West End. They’d struck out three times before spotting a familiar figure in the corner of a coffee shop. Edwin sat calmly drinking his coffee.
““Where the hell is Ian?” Dannel, as always, got straight to the point. “Did you wreck the theatre this morning?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Edwin held his hands up in protest. “I never went near the stage while I was at the theatre this morning. Ian’s probably off boffing one of his boyfriends.”
“Ossie.” Dannel put a hand on his shoulder when he started forward. “Let’s not get ourselves arrested for causing a scene.”
“Did you wreck the backdrops?”
“Of course not, I’m not trying to ruin the play,” Edwin insisted. “All we ever wanted to do was draw in more ticket sales.”
“You drew in a murderer, you prat.” Osian relaxed a little, coming to the realisation Edwin hadn’t taken Ian. “Where’d you go after you left?”
“Came here. Bought Ian a coffee. He went off to meet up with someone,” Edwin explained. “I confessed to him about being the ghost with Howard. I swear we never touched the costumes.”
“The costumes.” Osian stared at Edwin. “I forgot about them.”
“Yes, the torn costumes.”
Osian turned in horror toward Dannel who’d connected the dots as well. “Pretty Princess P. We’ve chased down the wrong company member.”
“Bugger.” Dannel scratched his side for a second. “It might not be Philippa.”
“Who else is there? Niall’s dead. Howard’s dead.” Osian ticked their suspects off his fingers slowly. “There’s Edwin. My gut says it’s not him.”
“I’m sitting right here,” Edwin complained.
Dannel ignored the actor and focused on Osian. “Your gut thought eating a whole pizza plus a lasagne was a brilliant idea.”
“In fairness, it was the best pizza ever.”
“You lay on the floor of the bathroom, moaning in pain for two hours.” Dannel seemed content to ignore the fact that he’d been right there with Osian.
“Well, we were fifteen at the time.” Osian decided they should probably focus on their missing friend. He turned back to Edwin. “Are you sure you’ve no idea where Ian went?”
“None.” Edwin shrugged. “Sorry.”
“You might want to reach out to the police.” Osian trusted Haider, at least, to hear the actor out. They had the killer’s DNA, after all, to verify whether Edwin was involved. “Have a chat with them. Take a solicitor. It’s always wise to have someone looking out for you.”
I trust Haider. The system itself? Not so much.
Twenty-Six
Dannel
“Rolly wants to know where we are. They apparently had a break in the case.” Dannel wasn’t sure how to respond to his brother’s text message. His phone buzzed for a second time; he held it away from his body. “I can’t say we’re tracking Ian through the West End.”
<
br /> “You know he can’t see you, right?” Osian watched him fidget with his phone. “Dannel? Love? Want to head home? We can always leave the search for the professionals.”
“Professionals? And a small dog named Thames.” Dannel shoved his phone into his pocket, hoping his brother would give up. “I’m fine. Inside voice?”
“Bit loud. I’m sure everyone’s glad to hear you’re fine.” Osian slipped onto the bench beside him. They’d taken a moment to regroup across from yet another café. Dannel hadn’t realised how many there were in London. “Should we try texting Ian again?”
“Why? He hasn’t answered the previous twenty times.” Dannel jumped when his phone buzzed in his pocket. “Rolly’s being persistent.”
Deciding to bite the bullet, Dannel checked the six messages from his brother. Each one was more irate than the next. The police had obviously cottoned on to not only Ian being missing but also the vandalism at the theatre and, like Dannel and Osian, put two and two together.
The killer had Ian, likely after tricking him into a meeting.
Or, at least, they all presumed the killer had taken him.
“Do you think the DNA the police found on the victims came from the killer?” Dannel assumed that was the reason the detective inspectors had focused their attention on Niall. Why else had they disregarded Philippa? “If it belonged to someone else, either accidentally or planted there, it might be mucking up their case.”
“Mucking up.”
“Leave my word alone.” Dannel had once spent almost an entire year using the word repeatedly. He liked the way it rolled off the tongue. “Muck.”
“I love you.” Osian leaned forward to brush his lips against Dannel’s, who smiled into the kiss. “And I agree with you. Philippa makes a good suspect. She had a vendetta against Birdie, Ian, and the theatre company as a whole.”
“Is she clever enough to realise Edwin and Howard’s ghostly prank made the perfect cover?” Dannel appreciated Osian being willing to follow the conversation and not his choice of words. “My theory falls apart when it comes to Niall and Howard.”
“Unless one of them was blackmailing her.” Osian reminded him of the note they’d found. “Ian probably drew her ire for firing her the second time.”
“Didn’t Holly say Philippa was obsessed with her image and social media? Check Instagram.” Dannel nudged Osian a few times until he grabbed his phone. “Maybe she’s shared where she’s at.”
While Osian snooped around online, Dannel finally texted his brother back. He shared their suspicions about the DNA evidence and Philippa’s motives. Roland quite emphatically insisted they quit trying to find Ian.
Try not to get locked in a basement with a murderer.
Funny, baby brother. Hilarious, even.
“One day I will chuck my sodding phone in the Thames.” Dannel decided not to turn his mobile off to avoid his brother panicking. He went for one-word answers instead. “Maybe not the river. But I’ll turn it off and pretend it doesn’t exist.”
“And then your entire family will be on our doorstep,” Osian pointed out helpfully.
“Wanker.”
“Don’t blame the messenger.” Osian got to his feet and dragged Dannel up off the bench. “Come on. Let’s keep going. There’s another café on the way to the St Martin’s. We can check it and the theatre.”
Jogging down the curb, Dannel reached the café first. He peered in through the window at the relatively empty space. No Ian. His anxiety only increased with each second.
Dannel didn’t want to consider what might be happening to Ian. “What now?”
“Let’s check out St Martin’s. Ian’s close mates with several members of the production there.” Osian led the way down the street and around the corner toward St Martin’s. They ran smack into Derrick. He grabbed them both by the arms to keep from falling over. “Easy there.”
“Thank god I found you.” He stepped back, releasing their arms and taking a moment to catch his breath. “Edwin came by the theatre. He was rambling about being the one to play all the pranks. And then he said you were trying to find Philippa.”
Dannel glanced over at Osian. Edwin was either the most brilliant villain in the world, or he genuinely wanted to help find Ian. “Did he have any helpful hints?”
“Not a one.” Derrick shifted back and forth, rubbing his hands together before shoving them into his pockets. “I’ve had an idea.”
“Oh?” Osian prompted when he fell silent. “About finding Ian?”
“No. Well, yes.” Derrick hesitated for a second time. “I’ve an idea about where the pretty princess might’ve gone. She bragged about this fancy studio space someone gifted to her. It’s where she claimed to work on all her costumes and gowns.”
“If she told everyone about it, maybe Ian went there to speak with her.” Dannel knew Ian tended to believe the best in people. Philippa might’ve been able to convince him to at least talk things out. “Can you tell us where her studio is?”
“I can show you. I’ve no clue what the address is, but I’ve a good idea where it’s at. A mate of mine lives nearby and saw her going into this studio.” Derrick took off at a slow jog. “Hurry.”
After a few twists and turns, Derrick led them through an alley between a row of houses and a business. In the back garden of one, a small shed had obviously been converted into a studio. They exchanged confused glances.
“She obviously overstated.” Derrick broke the silence. “Should we check?”
“Why all the smoke and mirrors?” Osian muttered to Dannel. “Is it everyone in the theatre world or just the Evelyn Lavelle?”
“What do we do?” Derrick had been trying to peer through the windows while staying behind Dannel and Osian. “Should we knock?”
“We’ll take a closer look. Why don’t you call the police?” Osian had a good point. Dannel wondered if any of the detectives had been aware of Philippa’s hidden space. “Well? Should we rescue the damsel in distress?”
“Sure Ian will appreciate the reference.”
“He’ll swoon dramatically and want us to carry him out.” Osian inched closer to the shed. “I’m sure he’s fine.”
Dannel wasn’t so sure. “The door won’t open with us over here.”
“We could always wait for the police.”
Dannel stepped around him and reached out to grab the door handle. “Ian might not have time to wait.”
Testing the handle, Dannel found it unlocked. He yanked the door open. A thousand possibilities raced through his mind. None of them turned out to be true.
“It’s a shed. A literal shed.” Dannel poked his head further inside, ducking away from a cobweb. He found an assortment of garden tools. “Ian’s definitely not here. I doubt he’d have willingly come in here in any case.”
“We’ve bigger issues.” Osian poked him repeatedly in the side. “Dannel.”
“What?” He twisted around to find himself staring at a pistol in Derrick’s hands. “Where’s Ian?”
“Put the gun down.” Osian’s statement overrode Dannel’s question. He angled himself in front of Dannel with his hand out. “Why don’t we all sit down in the garden and chat?”
Over the years, they’d both done training courses on dealing with stressful and dangerous situations. Osian, in his previous life as a paramedic, had often talked down angry patients, particularly drunken ones. Dannel could only stand frozen, staring at the weapon.
His mind went blank.
Now was not the ideal moment to lose his ability to process.
Derrick.
Derrick?
He wasn’t even on our radar.
Twenty-Seven
Osian
Osian wanted to laugh.
There was nothing funny about being held at gunpoint. Dannel shutting down certainly wasn’t amusing. Yet, Osian found himself resisting an irrational urge to laugh.
He didn’t laugh because of the gun pointed right at him. “Why lead us here?”
>
“We were going to run the company.” Derrick gestured wildly with the gun.
We.
Osian worked hard to keep his breathing calm. “You and Hope?”
Or does he mean Edwin? Hadn’t Edwin and Howard been pranking the theatre together as a duo? What was the ghost a decoy for?
“Loveable fool. Pretty and useless,” Derrick scoffed. “Hangers on, really. Like most of the theatre crowd. Always hoping for a connection.”
“And you’re different?”
“Howard and I, we wanted the run of the company. Control of the ensemble and the production.” Derrick considered Osian and Dannel for a moment. “I don’t expect you to understand. We wanted controlling interest. Ian’s a pushover.”
“How?” Osian wanted to keep Derrick chatting as long as possible. Someone would surely notice what was happening in their back garden. “You’re a dancer.”
“Shut up,” he snapped. “I’m Derrick Green.”
“Who?” Dannel perked up from behind Osian.
From his comment, Osian knew Dannel had gone into a shutdown. He tended to manage one-word answers at best. Osian tried to keep his body between the pistol and Dannel.
While Derrick ranted about his family connections, Osian tried to figure out a way out of the mess. They had to get away from the killer. He wondered if wrestling the weapon out of Derrick’s grasp was possible.
Is the safety off?
Doesn’t the gun always go off in movies when the hero grabs for it?
“My parents invested heavily into our ensemble and the company when it formed. Howard and Birdie made up the other two main contributors once Ian came on board as director and playwright. It wasn’t enough. We couldn’t make them listen to my ideas.” Derrick’s rambling caught his attention. “And Philippa. She made the perfect foil. Sacked and publicly humiliated. She had the obvious motive for murder. With Birdie out of the way, we had complete control.”
Not sure that’s how theatre companies work.
And what about his parents?
Ghost Light Killer Page 15
