“What about the new costume designer?” Dannel dropped his fingers down to scratch Osian’s head gently. “Maybe they wanted Birdie’s job?”
“Doubtful.” Osian stretched contentedly, shifting on the sofa to get more comfortable. “Ian claims he stole them from another production.”
“Stole’s probably an exaggeration.”
“It is Ian.” Osian grinned up at Dannel. “Ian eats drama with his tea.”
“Sounds crunchy.” Dannel returned his gaze to the cameras. “If he hired them over from another project, they wouldn’t need to kill Birdie for the job. They already had one.”
“They might’ve.”
“Occam’s Razor.”
“What?”
“The simplest explanation quite often tends to be correct,” Dannel paraphrased. “You don’t off someone to get their job when you’ve already got one. Ian’s not paying more than one of the larger production companies in the city. He’s barely cobbled together his play as it is.”
“Did you see?” Osian rolled onto his side to get a closer view of the laptop. He pointed to the top right square, one from the camera angled down the stairs leading to the basement. “A black shadow.”
“Ossie.”
“I saw something.”
They watched in tense silence. Nothing. Dannel opened his mouth to speak then immediately stopped when a dark image flitted down the stairs. A second later, the camera flickered before freezing.
“How….” Osian didn’t seem to know what question he wanted to ask.
“Technology isn’t foolproof.” Dannel knew enough to know any security system had the potential to fail or be hacked. “All the cameras froze. Maintenance?”
“Worst. Timing. Ever.”
“We’ve seen enough true crime shows to know security cameras aren’t a guarantee for any investigation.” Dannel watched Osian get up and straighten his clothes. “Ossie.”
“Aren’t you a little curious?”
Well, yes.
“That’s beside the point.”
Osian grinned suddenly at him. “We can pick up a double pepperoni and spicy honey and a ’nduja one from Pizza Pilgrims. Maybe get two Nutella rings as well. Plus a couple cold beers.”
* * *
The ’nduja pizza was one of Dannel’s favourites. Spicy sausage on an oven-fired pie. He’d smash a whole one on his own, plus dessert. They both enjoyed the ring of dough filled with chocolate spread and salted ricotta.
“Right. So, ghosts, then stuff ourselves with pizza. Sounds like a great way to end the day.” Dannel shot off the couch. He caught his trainers when Osian tossed them to him one at a time. “Should we text Chris?”
“After. We don’t know anything yet.”
This is a terrible idea.
Absolutely stupid.
“He’ll figure it out.” Dannel had no doubts Chris kept an eye on the cameras whenever possible. “Why don’t we walk to the theatre? Ian might still be there. It’s only mid-afternoon. We can meet the new costume designer at the very least.”
Safety in numbers.
They grabbed coffees and made their way to the theatre. Rain had cooled the temperature off slightly. It made a pleasant walk; Dannel could almost pretend they were on a date except for the growing sense of impending doom in the pit of his stomach.
“Ossie.” Dannel grabbed Osian’s arm, stopping him before he crossed the street. “Haider.”
The entire theatre company stood outside the Evelyn Lavelle. Several marked police cars were parked outside, along with a vehicle Dannel recognised as Haider’s. Something had obviously happened.
“Well, that’s not good,” Osian uttered the understatement of the century when they spotted a crime scene investigators van pull up. “You don’t think someone else has been murdered?”
I think we should’ve stayed home eating leftover pasta.
I also think we’re not getting our pizza anytime soon.
“Given the ambulance is pulling away without taking anyone away, I do.” Dannel nodded toward the vehicle driving off into traffic. “What the hell is happening at the Evelyn Lavelle?”
“Murder.”
“Prat.” Dannel flicked him on the arm. “The good news is we can’t possibly be responsible for whatever’s happened.”
The bad news is something’s obviously gone wrong.
Again.
They jogged across the street, dodging a slowly moving lorry who’d obviously been watching the excitement at the theatre. They snuck by Haider, who was in deep conversation with Detective Inspector Powell. Dannel was surprised the police didn’t notice them blending in with the rest of the company.
“Hello, you two,” Hope whispered. “Ian’s inside.”
“Inside?” Dannel’s heart froze in his chest. He tried not to immediately assume the worst. “Why?”
“We’re not sure.” Hope was in a huddle with several other members of the ensemble, their arms wrapped around one another for comfort. “The power seemed to flicker briefly. We heard a scream. Next thing we knew, the coppers were rushing us all out here. Said not to leave. Colin heard them talking about another body being found.”
“Ian?” Osian asked the question Dannel couldn’t quite manage to voice.
Colin lifted his head off Hope’s shoulder. “I’m not sure. I don’t think so. I heard Ian’s voice, so he’s fine unless they managed to perform a séance and he spoke from the afterlife.”
Osian leaned closer to Dannel when he grabbed his hand. “Haider’s not calling any spirits back from the dead.”
“If you want to sneak inside, we can cause a diversion.” Hope pointed to where the coroners could be seen dealing with a body bag on a stretcher. “Ian would appreciate the support. Or smelling salts.”
“Smelling salts aren’t pleasant.” Dannel didn’t think the high-strung Ian needed to be hyped up by a sniff of ammonia inhalant. “What sort of distraction?”
“An impromptu rehearsal on the street?”
“Juggling.” Colin pulled several balls out of his pockets. “Takes a lot of work to pretend to be dreadful at it.”
“Takes a lot of effort to pretend to be dreadful at just about anything when you’re brilliant.” Hope winked at Dannel before pushing him and Osian in the direction of the door. “Go on. Solve our mystery for us.”
“I’m beginning to think instead of a cosplay business and a podcast, we should’ve become private investigators, since everyone already assumes we are.” Osian tried to walk normally while also hiding behind the cast. “We look ridiculous.”
“Pretty sure actual private investigators sneak quietly.” Dannel was trying and failing not to laugh. “You’re drawing more attention trying to squash yourself into a short person.”
“No sense of adventure.”
In the chaos of the entire ensemble demonstrating their party tricks to the confused detectives, Osian and Dannel slipped into the building. He almost felt sorry for Haider. No one excelled at creating distractions more than bored theatre performers.
Skirting the crime scene technicians chatting in the corner of the lobby, Osian followed Dannel through the doors into the passageway down to Ian’s sanctuary. He was draped across the chaise lounge. One of the actors stood beside him, using a program to fan his face.
“Oh, darlings,” Ian greeted them with a tired wave. “Have you heard our terrible news?”
Osian sat on the edge of the desk, leaving the chair for Dannel. “We saw the police. Did they find something?”
“Someone.” Ian sat up slowly. He seemed to have aged ten years since Dannel had last seen him. His hand gripped on to his fellow actor. “Howard Osman. One of our assistant designers. A young, talented costumer. I found him at the bottom of the stairs leading to the storage room.”
Bugger.
We’re going to need a completely different set of questions.
“Have the police said anything?” Osian pulled out his phone and began to make notes. Dannel could s
ee he was jotting down additional questions at the end of the list they’d made earlier. Great minds. “About Howard?”
“Nothing. They ordered everyone outside. Left me here.” Ian clutched his hands together. “What if they believe I murdered the poor darling?”
“You?” Dannel couldn’t think of anyone less likely to commit murder than Ian. “I’m sure they’re only interested in making sure they get a clear witness statement from you.”
“Mr Barrett? We’re ready—” Haider stopped mid-sentence, glancing around the room with an air of resigned annoyance. “Could you two stay out of my case for five seconds?”
“The argument could be made that we were out of your case all day.” Osian ignored Dannel’s persistent poking to his side. “We didn’t know anything had happened.”
Haider brought a hand up to rub his forehead.
“Listen—”
“No.” Haider cut Osian off while continuing to massage his forehead with his eyes closed. “I’m going to need Mr Barrett to come down to speak with us about what he saw. And I’m going to need you to not get involved.”
“Polite way of saying sod off, you nosy bastards.” Osian grinned while reaching into his pocket for his phone. Dannel leaned forward to see him sending a quick text to Chris about the cameras and a second to their friendly solicitor, Wayne. “I wonder if we’ll get a commission from Wayne for all the work we’ve sent his way.”
“Maybe he’ll send us a fruit basket.” Dannel wondered if Haider was going to lose his temper. “Isn’t that what fancy law offices do?”
“If you’re finished?” Haider had obviously decided to pretend they weren’t there. He motioned for Ian to follow. “Your friend can come with you.”
Osian stood up.
“Not you. The silent, helpful one with the fan.” Haider stepped out of the room, waiting for Ian to join him. His attention returned to Dannel and Osian. “Please go home.”
They watched the three leave. Dannel stared at the closed door. Osian was busy on his phone, responding to text messages.
“Are we going home?” Dannel asked.
“Not bloody likely. Chris is on his way. He wants to inspect the cameras. Why don’t I chat with the company? They’re probably all milling around outside the theatre.” Osian rested his head against Dannel’s arm briefly. “See if you can find anything in Ian’s room or in Birdie’s old one. We’ll wait for reinforcements before tackling the storage room again.”
Well, we’re knee-deep in the mystery.
What’s a little more investigating going to do?
Fifteen
Osian
Osian had left Dannel to snoop around in Ian’s room while he went outside to speak to the company. “Poor Ian. His play’s turning into more of a tragedy than anything else.”
Will they have to cancel the play?
Most of the cast had dispersed when Osian got outside. Hope and her friend Colin stood nearby, a little ways away from the entrance. They were having a heated, whispered conversation with someone he couldn’t see.
Osian walked toward them and realised immediately who they were chatting with. “Archie?”
His friend paled considerably, then jogged off across the street without a word. Osian considered chasing after him, but Archie had a head start. He decided to stay and interrogate the two actors instead.
“Do you know Archie well?” Osian didn’t want them running off. “Through Birdie?”
“Not incredibly well. Birdie talked about him loads, though.” Hope and Colin exchanged uncomfortable glances with one another. “We should go. We’ve got rehearsals in the morning.”
“Hang on.” Osian held out a hand, stopping short of actually grabbing either of them. “What were you arguing about?”
“You know his boyfriend?” Hope asked. She waited for Osian to nod and continued. “Niall was at the theatre around noon. He’s been seeing one of the dancers in the ensemble.”
“Has he?” Osian momentarily forgot about Archie’s sudden disappearance. “Which one?”
“Daisy.”
“And Michael,” Colin added. He nodded when Hope spun toward him. “I saw them snogging in the stairwell.”
“Cheeky fellow.” Hope shook her head. “He’s handsome enough. Seeing two people in a company’s risky if everyone’s not aware.”
“Considering he’s got a boyfriend.” Colin seemed to agree with her. “Daisy claimed she’s known him since primary school, though. They grew up together.”
“Explains why he was hanging around without Archie.” Hope tucked her hands into her pockets. “I wondered why he kept showing up during rehearsals.”
Well, well, well, Birdie definitely saw Niall cheating on Archie.
“Is that what you were telling Archie about?” Osian figured learning your boyfriend had cheated on you multiple times might definitely lead to a heated conversation. “Niall’s cheating?”
“Not at first.” Colin began to absently toss several balls in the air, juggling with an impressive amount of ease. “He asked about the hoopla at the theatre first. Then I accidentally mentioned seeing Niall.”
“Accidentally?” Hope scoffed. “We’ve been trying to figure out a way to warn him. It was just so awkward.”
“When did Niall leave?” Osian wondered if he’d been in the theatre when Howard was pushed down the stairs.
“I’ve no idea. I never saw him leave.” Hope snatched one of Colin’s balls out of the air. “Listen, we’ve got to run. We have an audition later.”
Once the actors had left, Osian tracked Dannel down inside the theatre. They decided to wait for Chris. The creepy stairs bothered them too much to enter without reinforcements.
And Haider thinks we take too many dangerous risks.
Osian wandered down the aisle to find Dannel seated in the front row. He dropped into a chair next to him and shared what he’d learned. “So, Niall was cheating.”
“Message Archie.” Dannel nudged his knee. “See what he’s got to say. Maybe he didn’t see you.”
“He saw me. I doubt he’ll answer, but why not.” Osian imagined Archie knew they’d have questions for him. “He has to have seen me. Why else did he suddenly run off?”
There was no response to his text to Archie. Osian didn’t even get the annoying dots, showing the message had been received. What was going on with him?
Had Archie suddenly realised his mum was right?
And regrets killing her?
Or is he wondering if Niall lied about his involvement with Birdie’s death?
Stretching his legs out, Osian thought sitting in the empty theatre was serene. The sounds of plays past seemed to linger in the air. He could understand why lights were left on for the ghosts.
The theatre felt alive even without anyone rehearsing. There was no music. Yet, Osian thought a strange rhythm vibrated in the air.
Okay. Maybe it’s time we went to grab our pizza. I’m clearly reading too much into this.
They weren’t completely alone in the theatre. Several members of the lighting department had remained once the police allowed them in to continue their work. The play was scheduled for a preview in less than a week.
Will it even make opening night if people keep dying?
“I spoke to one of the crime scene techs who were in Ian’s room. They didn’t find anything in the basement.” Dannel slouched further down into the seat. “Ever notice how lovely the seats in the Evelyn Lavelle are?”
“Quality from a different age.” Osian fumbled in his pocket when his phone buzzed. He finally got it out. “Chris is waiting outside for us.”
“They can’t genuinely believe Ian shoved someone down the stairs, can they?” Dannel dragged himself up out of the seat. “I mean, it’s Ian.”
“I doubt it.” Osian worried about their elderly neighbour. “I haven’t heard anything from Wayne or Ian.”
“You promised me pizza,” Dannel complained absently.
“I’m peckish as well
. Why don’t we see if we can talk Chris into going with us? He might even pay.” Osian figured if they invited Abra, he wouldn’t be able to say no. “We’ll let him work up an appetite first, though, poking around at the cameras.”
“You have sneaky looks on your faces.” Chris greeted them with narrowed eyes and a suspicious glare. “The answer is no.”
“Rude.” Osian grinned innocently which didn’t improve matters. “Which cameras do you want to check out first?”
“They’re back up and running.” Chris apparently decided to let matters rest and focus on the job at hand. “My educated guess is someone used a stronger signal on the same frequency to jam the signal. The downside to using a wireless system.”
“Could it be an accident?” Dannel was ever the optimist.
“Maybe. You said the power flickered? It’s possible that caused the problem.” Chris didn’t sound convinced. “I’m most interested in the camera by the stairs. You said someone was pushed down them?”
“One of the costumers brought up to help redo the costumes. Just an assistant.” Osian wondered whether the two murders were connected to the play, the costume department specifically, or Niall’s cheating. Had Howard been another one of his snogging partners? “What can you learn from the camera?”
“I want to make sure no one messed with them.”
While Chris inspected the cameras with Dannel’s help, Osian continued on down the stairs. He pulled the door to the storage room open, peering inside. Nothing had been disturbed from the last time they were there.
No new speaker hiding to terrify them.
“Osian,” Chris called out a warning to him. “Oz. Try not to get your fingerprints all over everything.”
“Keep your shirt on. I’m not touching anything.” Osian frowned at a scrap of fabric sticking out from under several stacked backdrops. “I’ll be out in a second.”
Where have I seen that before?
“Osian.”
Osian ignored Chris and went deeper into the room, crouching down beside the thick cloth backdrops to get a closer look at what appeared to be part of a shirt sleeve. When he tugged on it, a limp arm flopped out. “Oh. Bollocks.”
Ghost Light Killer Page 9