Ghost Light Killer

by Dahlia Donovan

  “Ian.” Osian shushed him urgently. “I thought I heard something.”

  As Ian fell silent, Osian tried to catch any sound beyond the water dripping around them and their own breathing. There. Footsteps. And muffled voices. Was it Derrick coming back with an accomplice?

  Or had the police tracked the last location on his phone?

  “What do we do?” Ian whispered urgently.

  “Twenty-million-pound question, isn’t it?” Osian kept his voice down. “If we can hear them, maybe they’ll be able to hear us?”

  Weighing the risks, Osian decided to chance it. He bellowed at the top of his lungs. Ian’s hand gripped his tightly.

  After a few minutes, Osian heard the sound of the metal safety grill scraping against brick before a little ray of light filtered down. He shielded Ian from the stray bits of stone pelting them from above.

  “Mr Garey?”

  Osian didn’t recognise the voice but from the tone assumed it was a first responder of some sort. “Yes. Ian Barrett’s down here with me. He’s going to need medical attention. And I’d really like to get out of this sodding well.”

  In the course of his career as a paramedic, Osian had witnessed a variety of rescues. None had involved a well. He waited patiently, helping secure Ian into the harness to be eased up first.

  Ten minutes of careful work by first responders saw both of them safely out of the well. Osian watched over Ian, waiting for the paramedics to arrive. He heard a commotion across the street and caught sight of what appeared to be Dannel and Haider struggling with someone in the hedgerow.

  “You stupid git.”

  Osian glanced over to find Roland storming toward him. “Glad to see you alive as well.”

  Roland grabbed him in a tight embrace. “What part of don’t go running off alone have you failed to understand?”

  “We weren’t alone. Three of us were together.”

  “Pity one of you happened to be the killer,” Roland pointed out helpfully. “Danny’ll be over in a moment. He’s trying to feed Derrick his teeth.”

  Thirty

  Dannel

  Stay in the car.

  Stay in the car.

  It’s always “stay in the car” when you’re the one personally connected.

  Dannel had intended to listen to the request from both Haider and Roland. He didn’t anticipate catching sight of Derrick. “Why you sneaky little….”

  Across from the church where the first responders were trying to rescue Osian and Ian, Dannel spotted Derrick hiding behind the hedgerow. Right. I’ve got questions, and he’s going to answer them.

  Sliding out of the back seat, Dannel strode across the street and caught up to Derrick. He grabbed him by the shirt, swinging him around into the hedge. There was no way he’d let Derrick get away.

  “I—”

  Dannel shook Derrick, lifting him off the ground. “What did you do to my Osian, you absolute wanker?”

  “Dannel.” Haider came jogging across the street toward him with several constables on his heels. “Dannel. You can’t kill him.”

  Dannel turned toward him with his hands still keeping a firm hold on Derrick. “Why would I kill him? I’m not a murderer.”

  “I—” Haider cut himself off with an impatient wave of his hand. “I wasn’t being literal.”

  “Oh.” Dannel hated hyperbolic speech. It always confused him. “He hurt Ossie.”

  “We’re aware. Why don’t we let the nice constables place him under arrest? Your Ossie is in the back of an ambulance. I’m sure he’d love your company.” Haider guided Derrick toward the two other police officers and then motioned for Dannel to follow him. “Both Osian and Mr Barrett seem relatively uninjured.”

  “After being thrown in a well?” Dannel didn’t believe the detective inspector for a second. He’d been to an incident as a firefighter involving a teenager who’d fallen into a similar hole. “No broken bones?”

  Before Haider could respond to his question, Dannel launched into a lengthy list of other queries. His heart started to race the closer to the ambulances they got. He heard a muffled-sounding Ian being his charming self with the paramedics.

  “Here.” Haider placed a hand on his shoulder, ignoring Dannel’s flinch. “He’s in this one.”

  The side door of the ambulance slid open, and one of the paramedics hopped out. Dannel thought he recognised her, but his mind refused to provide a name. She waved him over.

  “C’mon then. Let’s get you in here to see Oz.”

  Dannel struggled to get his legs working. “I….”

  “I’m Becky. Part of the coalition. Don’t worry. I imagine your mind’s racing something awful. Oz’s fine. We’re only checking him over as a precaution.” She followed him into the ambulance and slid the door shut, cutting off the sound of Derrick arguing with the constables about how he’d never hurt Ian. “Why don’t you have a seat?”

  Dannel managed to make it into the seat across from Osian. He grabbed desperately at the hand Osian held out to him. “Had to get your perfect hero origin story, didn’t you?”

  “Does this make me Bruce Wayne? Being rescued from a well? There was a distinct lack of bats.” Osian squeezed his hand tightly. He brought it up to rest his forehead against Dannel’s fingers. “I’m all right. A few scratches and bruises. Not going to be rock climbing anytime soon.”

  “You’ve never rock climbed a day in your life,” Dannel pointed out. He was remembering how to breathe regularly. “How is he really?”

  Becky finished checking Osian’s blood pressure. “I’d say he’s going to have a headache and won’t be up for climbing of any kind for the next day or so. We don’t even need to take him to the hospital.”

  “Brilliant. Not sure I want another stay.” Osian preferred to avoid hospitals when at all possible.

  “Go on. Get out of here. We’ve got other patients to see.” Becky began unhooking all the monitoring equipment from Osian. “My suggestion? Take a Paracetamol and hunker down at your flat with Dannel for a few days.”

  “Hear that, Danny? No climbing anything. Not even you.” Osian got to his feet slowly. He didn’t relinquish his hold on Dannel’s hand. “Ready to face the wrath of the detective inspector?”

  “Hopefully he’ll be too busy with Derrick. Wanker.” Dannel dragged him into a tight embrace, clutching Osian against him. The paramedics politely focused their attention elsewhere. “I love you. Please, never do that again.”

  “I promise to never climb into a derelict well ever again.” Osian pressed his face against Dannel’s neck. “Quit chuckling, you git.”

  “Will you marry me?” Dannel had thought about it on the drive over.

  “Yes, though maybe we can talk it over somewhere other than an ambulance with Becky going all heart eyes over in the corner.” Osian tightened his arms around Dannel. “I mean, it’s not a bad story to tell in our golden years.”

  “Why don’t you two get out so we can get on with rescuing people who want our help?” Becky prodded Osian in the back. “Send us an invite to the wedding.”

  They stepped out of the ambulance to find rain beginning to pour down. The second ambulance had already left with Ian. Dannel paused to take in the scene and allow his heart to return to normal.

  The rain and the flashing lights from all the emergency vehicles danced merrily against the stained glass windows of the church behind them. Dannel found it mesmerising. He stared for a few seconds before Osian nudged him forward.

  “Think we can sneak away without the detective inspector noticing?” Osian nodded toward where Haider appeared to be mid-conversation with two other detectives. “Who drove you here?”

  “Rolly.” Dannel pointed out his brother standing off to one side of the cluster of detectives. “They’d notice if we stole his car.”

  “Undoubtedly.” Osian leaned into Dannel’s side. He wrapped an arm around him to help hold him up. “An Uber maybe?”

  “We can’t get an Uber from a crim
e scene.” Dannel wanted nothing more than to be home, curled up with Osian and the largest pizza in existence. He knew they had to deal with the police first or they’d be knocking their door down. “Let’s get this over with.”

  Roland stepped around the group of detectives to join them. “Everything and everyone all right?”

  “Mostly.” Osian frowned when Roland held out a phone. “Not mine.”

  “Yours is currently in an evidence bag. We found it in Derrick’s pocket. You’ll have to wait for forensics to finish their work.” Roland pushed the phone into Osian’s hand. “This one is mine, and you need to call your mum.”

  By the time they’d dealt with all the calls and a lecture from Haider about the dangers of amateur investigating, Dannel wanted nothing more than to crawl under the covers. Roland took pity on them, chauffeuring them straight home. He even promised to distract the family.

  Adelle and Stanley had swung by on their way to the hospital to sit with Ian and dropped off a platter of sandwiches, crisps, and assorted cakes. Stretching out in bed, Osian and Dannel put on a Twitch stream of a Mass Effect playthrough and hid from the world under the duvet together.

  “Danny?”

  “Yes?” Dannel lifted his head up, brushing crumbs away from his chest. He found Osian watching him intently. “You’re not hurt, are you?”

  “Genuinely fine. My arms will be screaming in the morning. No jokes about going to the gym.” Osian sat up, shoving a pillow behind him for support. “Do you really want to get married?”

  “Not mad about the fuss of a wedding. I wouldn’t mind getting married, though.” Dannel thought an actual proper ceremony sounded like a stressful nightmare in the making. “Want to elope?”

  “Can you see my mum and sister handling an elopement well?” Osian shuddered.

  “Liv would glitter bomb us until the end of time.”

  “And glue unicorn horns to our heads while we sleep.” Osian lifted his hand up. “Want to put a ring on it?”

  “I do.”

  Epilogue

  Osian

  “This is Oz and D. Welcome to this week’s episode. We’re chatting about one of the grand dames of the West End—the brilliant and beautiful Evelyn Lavelle. Was she murdered?” Osian grinned when Dannel rolled his eyes. “Did she die suddenly of natural causes on opening night?”

  “And more importantly, does her ghost still haunt the stage?” Dannel leaned in closer to the microphone. “We spent weeks this summer investigating every nook and cranny of the Evelyn Lavelle Theatre.”

  We’ll leave out the traumatic murders and brief stay in a well.

  “For the next few weeks, we’ll be sharing details of not only Evelyn Lavelle and her mysterious end, but a whole host of other theatre myths and crimes.” Osian slowly turned the page to the next part of their script. “We’re starting off with a bang. Not literally.”

  As Dannel continued with an introduction to Evelyn Lavelle, Osian’s thoughts were drawn back to the chaos of the summer. May seemed a century away as opposed to a few months. He’d be glad to see the start of autumn, if only for what might feel like a fresh start.

  The past few months since the incident in the well had dragged on unnecessarily slowly. Osian had nightmares of being stuck in a cave or buried alive. He’d begun seeing a therapist a few times a week.

  Between chatting with his therapist and talking over a weekly coffee with Haider, Osian felt like his usual self finally. Derrick making a full confession had also helped. None of them had wanted to deal with the extended trauma of a trial.

  With the complete confession, Edwin had been cleared of all connection to the murders. He was an annoyance and a prankster. Greedy as well. But he hadn’t had any clue about what Howard and Derrick had planned.

  Archie had left the country. London seemed to have soured for their gentle giant. He’d packed up his mum’s place, sold everything, and fled for a mountain range far away from his memories.

  It was hard to blame him for leaving everything behind.

  “Was she murdered? No one seems to know for certain. We found no documentation on an actual cause of death.” Osian had found the lack of even a police report strange. “How was an actress, one of the greats of her time, found dead in her dressing room and no investigation done?”

  They wrapped up the podcast with the few speculations on the cause of death they’d found in archived newspapers. Dannel wilted into his chair when the recording had been paused. He accepted the beer Osian handed to him with a grin.

  “Do you think Ian’s play will be a success?” Dannel chugged down half the beer then sat up to help him pack up their microphones. “The theatre community is still buzzing about the murders.”

  “We’ll find out this evening.” Osian dug their tickets out from under the podcast episode notes. “He’s done a brilliant job of pulling the play together.”

  Their dapper neighbour had dropped the tickets off the day before. They’d be attending a preview, with the official opening night the following Friday. Osian was thrilled the play hadn’t been cancelled.

  It had been a close thing. Ian had spent much of June hiding in his flat. Hope and a few other members of the company had come around in July to drag him to the theatre. They’d all worked hard to recreate costumes and the set.

  The kindness of people surprised Osian as much as their cruelty did.

  “Why do we have to go so early?” Dannel peered down at the note Ian had left with the tickets. “The play doesn’t start until six. We’ve got to be there at four.”

  “Tea and cakes?” Osian knew neither of them would turn down a free meal. “Or, knowing Ian, wine and cakes.”

  “Wine and cake? Olivia will be first in line.” Dannel drained the last of his beer. “We’ve got an hour to get ready.”

  “Plenty of time for me to help you shower.”

  “I know how to wash myself.” Dannel glared at him. “Inside voice?”

  “No, but also, I thought I could help.”

  “Why are you saying ‘help’ so weirdly?” Dannel stared at him when Osian came closer. “Ossie?”

  “We can shower together. You can help me.”

  “Why… Oh.” Dannel laughed when Osian grabbed him by the arm to drag him down the hall. “We have an hour.”

  “Plenty of time,” Osian reiterated with a grin.

  Plenty of time turned out to be a stretch. They tumbled out of the bathroom forty-five minutes later. Osian had never gotten dressed so quickly; not brilliant, since Ian had specified dressing up for the occasion.

  They scrambled into their nicest trousers and button-up shirts. They tied each other’s ties and headed out the door. Here’s hoping this trip to the theatre is far less exciting than our first visit to Ian’s rehearsals at the Evelyn Lavelle.

  With autumn not too far away, the weather had thankfully cooled off slightly. The walk to the theatre was perfect. Osian drank in the crowded streets, bright colours, and lighted signs of their little section of London.

  They were across the street from the theatre when Dannel grabbed Osian’s hand and tugged him away from the crosswalk. Oh, no. What now? Dannel paced anxiously in front of him for a few seconds.

  “We can go home, love.” Osian always wished he could take Dannel’s anxiety away or ease it a little for him. “Ian’ll understand.”

  “Everyone else might not.” Dannel fidgeted a while longer. “Surprise.”

  Surprise?

  “What?”

  “Liv called me. She knows how I hate surprises.” Dannel didn’t simply hate them; he loathed them with his entire being. “They wanted to plan an engagement party for us.”

  Osian wasn’t even remotely caught off-guard by the news. He’d known this would be an inevitable consequence of his sister finding out. “So, dinner, a party, and a show?”

  “Surprise.” Dannel brought his hands up and waved them around. They eyed each other, then broke out laughing; Osian leaned against Dannel, trying to hold hi
mself up. “Pretend I didn’t tell you.”

  “I’ve no doubt Liv assumes you’re going to tell me. We’re terrible at keeping secrets from each other.” Osian couldn’t think of a single instance when he’d successfully hidden something from Dannel. “If she makes me wear a unicorn horn, I’m never speaking with her again.”

  “She did it one time when she was five.” Dannel looped his arm around Osian’s as they crossed the street toward the theatre. “Better than the time Rolly convinced my mum to dress us both up as Teletubbies for school’s fancy dress party.”

  Osian choked on his laughter. He bent over to rest his hands on his knees for a moment. “I’d forgotten. How are you feeling, Tinky Winky?”

  “I hate you. Prat.” Dannel glared at him. “We swore a pact to never mention the purple horror ever again.”

  They found Hope waiting for them just inside the doors. She had her full make-up on but hadn’t gotten into her costume yet. Osian was pleased to see her back to her cheery self; the betrayal by her close friend had been hard for her to process.

  “How’ve you been?” Osian asked while she led them down the hall to one of the rooms often used for receptions before or after a play. Act surprised. “Where are we off to?”

  “I’m brilliant.” Hope narrowed her eyes on Osian. “You’re a terrible actor.”

  “Harsh,” Osian complained.

  Shaking her head at him, Hope opened the doors, then stepped to the side. Osian tried to muster up a genuinely surprised smile at the crowd waving at him. He appreciated them not shouting out, likely coached by Olivia, who understood how a barrage of sound might overwhelm Dannel.

  Unlike other members of their family who often meant well yet failed to see things from Dannel’s perspective, Olivia had always gone above and beyond to even the playing field for him. Osian wished everyone was willing to make the effort. He dragged his sister into a tight hug, murmuring his thanks to her.

  “Happy ‘you’re going to get married’ party.” She reached up to adjust his tie. “I’m so pleased for you both.”