Ghost Light Killer

by Dahlia Donovan

  “If ghosts existed, there would be irrefutable proof by now,” Dannel argued.

  “They’re elusive.”

  “If you’re done with your commentary on whether shadow figures exist in real life?” Chris encouraged them to move forward.

  They walked quickly. Osian was amused by how rapidly they all made their way up the stairs without actually breaking into a run. A calm stampede, of sorts, to get away from the ghost none of them wanted to admit to believing in.

  “We’ll mention the speaker. Not the ghost. Or our flight away from it.” Osian didn’t think either detective would buy into the paranormal. He still didn’t. There had to be a logical explanation for what they were seeing at the Evelyn Lavelle Theatre. “Agreed?”

  “Fair enough.” Chris shrugged while Dannel nodded.

  The two detectives had already wrapped up their inspection of the room. Haider held a bag with the scissors. They’d closed the door, adding caution tape for a second time.

  Bugger.

  We’ll have to wait for them to leave before we can sneak Chris’s cameras inside.

  They’ll ask too many questions otherwise.

  Maybe we should wait to mention the speaker.

  “We’re off. Try to stay out of trouble.” Haider seemed to focus his pointedly at Osian. “I’m serious. Let’s not be in a rush to throw ourselves into danger.”

  “And by ‘ourselves,’ he means you three.” Detective Inspector Powell tended to be more direct than her partner. “All right? I’m not eager to run down alibis for you again. We’ve more pressing things to focus our attention on.”

  “Us three? You mean those two,” Chris protested. “You should know we—”

  “No honour among thieves, eh?” Osian nudged the taller man in the back to shut him up. “Wanker.”

  “We’ll stay out of trouble.” Dannel, ever the voice of reason, dragged Osian down the hall, waving a muttered goodbye at the two detectives. “They’ll never leave if you keep playing the Joker.”

  “Which Joker? Batman, Mass Effect, Batman again?” Osian stumbled along behind his boyfriend, snickering the entire way. They’d left Chris to speak with Haider. “I vote for Mass Effect.”

  “You just want to play Commander Shepard again.” Dannel came to a stop once they’d gone around the corner. “We’ll hide until the police have gone.”

  “I’m Commander Shepard, and this is my favourite hall in the theatre to snog in.” Osian leaned in for a kiss. “I’ve had a brush with death. I feel alive.”

  “A ghostly erection?” Dannel said with a perfectly straight face.

  A sharp laugh from the right told them Chris had finished his goodbyes with the detectives. He was leaning against the wall, trying to catch his breath. Osian extracted himself from Dannel.

  “Ghostly erection. A whole new meaning to probing the paranormal.” Osian decided to change the subject, or they’d never get anything accomplished. “Detectives gone, then?”

  “I told them about the speaker despite your trying to stop me. They’re going to check it out later. I got the distinct feeling they thought it was merely a prank.” Chris slowly regained his composure and stopped laughing between sentences. “Haider left strict instructions to not enter the costume design studio or poke your noses into the investigation at all.”

  “So? Where are we putting cameras first?” Osian had no intentions of obstructing the police. They were there to figure out the paranormal aspect. A story he fully planned on sticking to if asked. “The stairwell?”

  “Why don’t I head out to the lobby? I can make sure the police don’t unexpectedly return and figure out what we’re doing.” Dannel plugged his earbuds in. “Might want to be quick in case whoever’s faking the ghost spots what you’re doing.”

  If the ghost is a fake.

  It’s probably a fake.

  Osian watched him disappear through the doors down the hall. He glanced over at Chris, who’d pulled several tiny cameras out of his bag. “Bond, James Bond.”

  “More like Q than Bond.” Chris handed four of them to Osian. “Hang on to these for me so I have a hand free.”

  Juggling the multiple cameras and Chris’s bag, Osian retraced their steps to the stairwell. He kept a watch for any signs of anyone with the theatre company. Or a ghost. Chris did a thorough check of the area before finding an out of the way spot to secure the first spycam.

  Osian waited for Chris to finish before offering him the second camera. He twisted the spherical gadget around; it fit easily in the palm of his hand. “Tiny things, aren’t they?”

  “Nanny cams, really. A lot of parents use them to keep an eye on their kids. Hard to spot if you know what you’re doing.” Chris guided him to the end of the hallway. “This one’ll give us a view of anyone going near the room or the stairs. Never know what we’ll see.”

  People snogging, if Dannel and I are an example.

  What happens in the theatre stays in the theatre.

  “What are the odds whoever’s haunting us has a camera as well? It would explain how they knew when someone is nearby.” Osian preferred not to consider the ghost might be real. “Or should I work on finding an exorcist?”

  “I’ve looked carefully for any signs of a camera but not seen anything. There’s CCTV at the front of the theatre. It’s possible someone’s hacked into those to keep an eye on anyone inside. Also, the building’s an old, creaky thing. Who’s to say they’re not hearing when someone’s on the stairs or going through a specific part of the hallway?” Chris finished hiding the second one in the corner and held his hand out for a third. “We’ll put the last two into the room itself, since someone’s obviously still interested.”

  And we’ll never ever mention it to Haider.

  He’ll be so disappointed—unless we find evidence of the killer and then he’ll only pretend to be annoyed.

  It didn’t take long at all to hide the remaining cameras. Chris promised to help him set up the feed on his laptop at dinner that evening. He’d already agreed to the invitation.

  Abs will be thrilled.

  Or kill me.

  “Try not to get yourselves locked in any rooms this time, all right?” Chris said his goodbyes, heading out of the theatre. “See you this evening.”

  “Ready?” Dannel sat on the floor across from the ticket booths.

  Osian slid to the floor to sit beside him. “Why don’t we see how rehearsals are going before we leave? Poor Ian. I wonder what they’ll do, with his costume designer murdered and all the costumes destroyed.”

  “Postpone?”

  “Can you see Ian postponing his precious play?” Osian had a feeling Ian would rather bankrupt himself hiring an army of costumers to recreate all of Birdie’s designs in time. They paused outside the doors, listening to the rehearsal. Ian sounded far more frenzied than they’d ever heard him. “Why don’t we check on him later?”

  “Probably wise.” Dannel was already moving away from the door. “We’ll only disrupt the process.”

  “Why don’t we check on Archie instead? See if he’s up for dinner tonight.” Osian hadn’t heard from their friend even after sending him several texts. “He’s staying at his mum’s place. It’s just a few streets away. We can grab a coffee when we’re done.”

  Despite the summer heat, Osian enjoyed their walk. He’d always loved the hustle and bustle of the West End. They dodged around a small group of fans belting out one of their favourite songs while watching for the cast to arrive.

  Just another day in Covent Garden.

  “Ossie.” Dannel caught him by the elbow to stop him walking across the street. “Look.”

  “What?” Osian finally spotted Archie and his boyfriend having a fantastic row on the steps up to the flat. “Trouble in paradise. Maybe we should say hello.”

  “In the middle of an argument?”

  “How else are we going to eavesdrop?” Osian caught him by the hand before jogging across the street and dodging traffic. “It’s a fr
iendly coincidence.”

  They reached the shouting couple just in time for the end of the argument. Niall stormed off with a curse and a rude gesture. Archie stared gloomily after him.

  “Arch? Everything all right?” Osian darted forward when Archie’s legs seemed to go out from under him. “Why don’t we get you inside, yeah? A cup of tea, a biscuit, and a chat with friends. Or we can chase down the git and knock some sense into him.”

  “Nah. Leave him alone.” Archie shook his head. He managed to stand up straight, pushing Osian gently away. “Come up, then. You nosy prat. I need some green tea.”

  The flat was all Birdie. Stacks of fabrics, ribbon, and sketch pads covered most flat surfaces. Storage containers lined the hallway and one of the living room walls. A sewing machine took up the entire space by the front window, offering a lovely view from where she must’ve worked.

  There were stray buttons across the coffee table, as if Birdie had been searching for a specific one. Archie had obviously not changed much of anything since his mum’s death. Osian exchanged a glance with Dannel.

  “Have you thought about getting someone in to help you with your mum’s stuff?” Dannel asked hesitantly. “Just to box it up?”

  Danny.

  Trying not to drop his face into his hands, Osian tried to figure out how to delicately ease their way through the conversation minefield. It had only been a few days since her death. Archie probably wasn’t ready to even consider boxing his mum’s stuff away.

  Osian decided to pretend to ignore the matter completely when Archie began to look a little teary-eyed. Time for a delicately phrased change of subject. “Why don’t we have some of your green tea?”

  I am a master of subtlety.

  “Niall and I broke up.”

  “Ah.” Dannel seemed to be floundering for something to say. “Why?”

  Well, it’s not how I would’ve asked, but I am curious.

  Archie sank tiredly onto the teal velvet settee that definitely evoked his mum’s Victorian aesthetic. “I think he killed my mum.”

  Ten

  Dannel

  In the silence following his statement, Archie had disappeared into the kitchen. He returned ten minutes later with a tray of delicate rose teacups and a matching platter with slices of a sticky ginger loaf cake. It had given Dannel and Osian time to consider how to broach the subject of his accusing Niall of murder.

  “Arch.” Osian had already scoffed down half a slice of cake. He took a sip of tea and immediately spat it back into the cup.

  “Ossie.” Dannel grimaced. “You weren’t actually raised by wolves, no matter what your mum says.”

  “What is this?” Osian stared down into his tea, then set the cup carefully down on the tray. “Pond water?”

  “A loose blend I purchased in a village outside of Kathmandu.” Archie sipped his slowly. “An acquired taste.”

  “Acquired by hobbits, maybe.” Osian grabbed another slice of cake. “Really, Arch? You couldn’t have stretched to maybe a simple breakfast tea or something?”

  “Do hobbits drink mulchy tea?” Dannel grimaced through a sip.

  Before they could continue their conversation about Niall, the doorbell rang, followed by an impatient knock. Dannel wondered if the man in question had returned to continue the argument. Archie clearly had the same thought when he rushed to answer the door.

  “Mr Dennis. Mind if we come in for a chat?” Detective Inspector Khan’s distinctive voice drifted through the flat.

  Dannel and Osian both shot to their feet as they heard Archie inviting the police inside. “He’s going to think we’re interfering.”

  “We are.” Osian snagged a third slice of cake. “One for the road. You know they’ll kick us out.”

  “Ah.” Haider paused for half a second before continuing into the living room. “Why am I not surprised to see you two?”

  “Just offering our support to a good friend during this sad time.” Osian sounded far more believable than Dannel thought possible. “We were having a spot of tea.”

  “Perhaps you might see yourself out while we have a private conversation with Mr Dennis?” Haider stared pointedly at the two of them.

  “I’d rather they stay.” Archie scooted around the two detectives into the room. “Care for tea? I can reheat the kettle. And there’s plenty of cake.”

  “No, thank you.” Haider didn’t take a seat. “We’d actually like you to come with us for a more official conversation. We’ve had contact with someone who claims you admitted to killing your mother.”

  “Well, Niall works fast.” Osian pulled his phone out of his pocket. “Wayne might like to meet you at the police station, Archie. I wouldn’t speak with the detective inspectors until he’s arrived.”

  “Niall?” Archie glanced over at Osian in a bit of a haze. He didn’t seem to be processing what was happening. “I don’t understand.”

  “You accused your boyfriend of killing your mother. He’s obviously gone and told our dear friends here that you’ve done it as a pre-emptive strike.” Dannel caught on quickly to what Osian had seen. It certainly wasn’t a stretch. “Clever bastard.”

  “We obviously can’t disclose any witness statements. We’d simply like you to come with us for a friendly chat.” Inspector Powell entered the conversation with a forced smile. “If you would?”

  “If it’s a friendly chat, why doesn’t he meet you there in an hour?” Osian pocketed his phone, having finished his text conversation. “It’s always lovely to see you, Detectives. How about I see you out for Archie, who’s obviously still distraught over the loss of his mum?”

  The two detective inspectors seemed to have a silent conversation with each other. Haider reluctantly nodded, insisting on Archie presenting himself to them for questioning within the hour. They left the flat with an air of frustration.

  “Thank you.” Archie smothered Osian and Dannel in a hug, his long arms squashing them to him. “Thank you. Thank. You.”

  “Thank me with a cup of tea. A nice strong one. Or coffee.” Osian struggled out from the hug.

  Dannel followed his example, feeling as though a desperate octopus had clung to them. “Is Wayne coming here?”

  “He said to give him twenty minutes. He’s finishing up with another client.” Osian flopped into one of the fancy armchairs. “Archie. You’re going to need to be honest with Wayne.”

  “About?” Archie scowled at Osian while gathering up the cups and plate. “I didn’t hurt my mum.”

  Stomping out of the room into the kitchen, Archie left them to their own devices. Osian held his finger up to his mouth and tiptoed over to Birdie’s sewing table. He flicked through a stack of papers on one corner.

  “Ossie,” Dannel whispered. He kept an eye on the door into the kitchen for any sign of movement. “Ossie.”

  “Shh.” Osian used his phone to snap a photo of one of the pieces of paper. He quickly returned the documents to their original state and rushed back over to Dannel. “Remember the hat lady?”

  “From the funeral?”

  Osian showed the photo on his phone. “She sent the quintessential strongly worded letter about being fired.”

  “Does it involve threats of stabbing with scissors?” Dannel tried to read the tiny script. He almost dropped the phone when Archie returned from the kitchen. “Why did you think Niall murdered your mum?”

  Osian nudged him in the side.

  “What?” Dannel was genuinely confused. They’d asked earlier, but the police had interrupted the conversation. “We might as well kill time waiting for Wayne to arrive.”

  “Kill time?”

  “Don’t pick apart my words.” Dannel frowned at Osian, who offered a muttered apology. He glanced over at Archie. “We don’t have to talk about your mum. Or your boyfriend.”

  Though it would answer loads of our questions.

  Archie sat so absently on the sofa, Dannel worried he’d hit the floor instead. “I’ve no proof. You know me, I’ve neve
r really seen the worst in anyone even when they deserved it. He did argue something awful with Mum. Her accusation hurt his feelings. I don’t know if I’d called it a gut instinct, but who else could’ve done it?”

  “Is it possible Niall did cheat on you?” Dannel hadn’t spent any time at all with Archie’s boyfriend (or ex-boyfriend); he still managed to give him a bad vibe. “Your mum never struck me as the sort to make up an accusation for fun.”

  “She wasn’t. And he didn’t,” Archie stated emphatically. “You haven’t had a chance to get to know him.”

  And I’m not sure I want to. That’s not nice. I should give him a chance. He just seems so smarmy.

  So smarmy.

  So smarmy I feel like I need a shower after a single conversation about him.

  Is it wrong to judge him without having spent time with him? Probably. There’s just something about him.

  The conversation fell away. Archie wasn’t willing to answer any more questions. Dannel wondered how things would go if he clammed up in front of the police as well.

  When Wayne arrived, he headed out with Archie, insisting on requiring privacy with his client. Dannel and Osian found themselves on the pavement watching the two drive off together. Well, now what?

  “Home?” Osian wrapped his arm around Dannel’s shoulders. “We have a podcast to research. I want to do another episode on the criminal side of the theatre in London.”

  “To distract yourself from whatever’s happening with Archie?”

  “Of course.” Osian coughed several times. “Maybe pick up some coffee on the way home. I swear I’ve got twigs stuck in my throat.”

  “Tea leaves. Not twigs.”

  “Semantics.”

  “Tea leaves. Not. Twigs,” Dannel insisted. He couldn’t help being pedantic with words. They mattered. They had meaning. “Maybe a stray flower.”

  “We could—”

  “No.” Dannel knew that particular tone of Osian’s. He might not always understand the nuance of conversation, but he knew his boyfriend. “We’re not going to the police station.”

  “We’d be supporting a friend.”