“A walk to find Roland so I can kick his arse?”
“You can’t kick your brother’s arse. He’s a copper. He might arrest you. And if he and Wayne turn into a couple, he’ll have a solicitor in his pocket as well.” Evie grinned at him. “Let him stew on it for a few days. He’ll be all nervous that you haven’t called him out.”
Dannel didn’t see the point of playing games. “Why?”
“He’ll assume the worst.”
“The worst what?”
“Strategy is wasted on you. Trust me when I say you should give Roland a few days before you explain to him in small words that you’re an adult and capable of quitting your job.” Evie leaned forward, trying to snag the tin of biscuits from the counter. “If we’re not going to the gym, do you want to track down Joel Brown?”
“Wait? What? Why?” Dannel pushed the tin closer so she didn’t take a header off the counter.
“He’s not going to talk to the police, since they won’t investigate his wife’s death. If he sees Oz-man, he’ll recognise him immediately.” Evie pried the lid off and grabbed a handful of bourbons. “Maybe we can convince him to answer a few questions.”
“Not your worst idea.”
“My ideas are amazing.”
“Except the one where we filled the chief’s office with packing peanuts.” Dannel rescued the tin of biscuits from her grabby hands. “Ossie won’t appreciate you inhaling all of his Bourbons.”
“My ideas are always brilliant.” Evie threw the last bit of biscuit into her mouth. “Well? Do you want to go?”
“We don’t know where Joel Brown lives.” Dannel replaced the tin in the right cabinet. He wanted time to process the conversation with the chief but knew Evie wouldn’t easily let go of her idea. “How are we going to find him?”
“Women’s intuition.”
Dannel stared at her for a second. “What?”
“Joke, Danny.” She hopped off the counter and brushed the crumbs off her shirt, ignoring his tutting at the mess. “He goes to the police station constantly. How hard can it be to run into him?”
“You don’t think the detectives will find our hanging around strange?”
“Not if we’re careful.”
“Careful? My cosplay strengths don’t stretch to hiding in plain sight.” Dannel washed up the three mugs in the sink, setting them to the side to dry off. “Are you going to get us arrested?”
“No, I’m not going to get us arrested.” Evie sounded far more confident than Dannel thought she should be. “There’s a bookstore and a coffee shop across from the station. We can grab something to read, have a drink, and stake out the front for an hour or two. What else were you going to do with your day?”
“Stay inside where it’s safe, warm, and not filled with homicidal wankers? Also, if the killer is Joel Brown, he’ll recognise me. Osian and I are together enough he’ll have seen me.” He pointed out one of the larger flaws in her plan.
“I’ll ask the questions.”
Dannel decided nothing he said would change her mind. “Fine. Let’s go.”
21
Osian
“Why are we here again?” Abra had gotten tired of standing by the door and had dragged a chair over. “What are you hoping to find?”
“A clue.”
It had taken some convincing and a little guilt-tripping, but Osian had convinced Chris to allow them into the Olympia. He wanted to see the room where Gemma had been attacked. They’d crossed the massive open atrium where the booths had all been set up and found the small room that had been set up for medical emergencies.
In truth, Osian had no idea what he hoped to find. The room had been completely cleared out. No signs remained of the convention or any of the aftermath of Gemma’s death.
“Oz?”
He stood up from where he’d been staring at the floor. “What?”
“Check this out.” Abra had crouched down by the frame. She had her phone out, using the light from the camera for a better view. “Bit of fabric caught on this jagged edge of the door. Part of a costume?”
Osian waited until she’d gotten a few photos before grabbing the scrap of fabric. “Detectives will probably want to see this.”
“They’re not going to appreciate your fingerprints all over it.”
“Shit.” Osian pocketed the fabric. “Maybe we’ll mention we found this after we figure out what it is.”
“Did you hear that?”
Osian barely had time to process her question before Abra had taken off at a run. “Abs.”
Shit.
Jogging after her, Osian didn’t even think to shut the door. He hoped Chris wouldn’t be too ticked off at them. Abra had bolted toward the hallway across the atrium.
“Abs?” Osian had to pick up speed to catch up with her. “Are we chasing shadows?”
“Someone was watching us.”
“It’s London. Have you seen all the cameras? Someone’s always watching.”
“Don’t be cute, Oz.” Abra swatted him on the chest. “Saw a figure run down here. Come on. Let’s see who it was.”
“It was probably Chris or someone else in security.” Osian reluctantly followed her through the door. They checked the rooms, including both of the loos. “There’s no one.”
“Does it smell funny in here?”
“It’s the loo.” Osian twisted around toward the door only to find it shut. “Bugger. I’ve a bigger problem. Someone’s trapped us in here.”
“Oz.”
“What?”
“The smell.” Abra darted back over to him. She’d pulled her shirt collar up to cover her nose. “They’ve mixed chemicals in the toilet. Get the door open. I’m texting Chris.”
No matter how hard they shoved and pulled, the door wouldn’t budge an inch. Osian’s eyes began to water; he tried to breathe shallowly with his shirt as a protection.
“Chris is on his way. I’m calling for an ambulance as well.” Abra barely managed to get the words out to explain their emergency between bouts of coughing.
Three minutes felt like an hour. Osian was beginning to wheeze. He practically fell out of the room when Chris yanked the door open.
“This is not being careful.” Chris grabbed both of them by the arm, dragging them out into the atrium. “Dannel’s going to kill me.”
“We should probably stop throwing words like that around.” Abra collapsed on her back, trying to catch her breath. “Ambulance is on the way. Think we’re fine.”
“You’re both exhibiting all the signs of chemical exposure. Not sure fine comes close to describing the situation,” Chris snapped at them. He pushed Osian to the floor when he tried to stand. “Stop moving around.”
“Chris.” Osian stopped to cough. “We’re fine.”
“Oh yes, keep choking while you’re convincing me of your perfect health.” Chris grabbed his phone when it beeped. “They’re directing the paramedics.”
“We’re paramedics,” Osian pointed out. “If you want to help, check your CCTV cameras. Someone had to block the door to keep us inside.”
Despite his own assurances, Osian was worried about the tightness in his chest. He kept an eye on Abra until the paramedics arrived. They insisted on carting both of them to the hospital for evaluation.
Dannel’s going to be so worried.
On the ride to the hospital, the paramedics helped him rinse out his eyes to stop the irritation. They monitored his vitals. And mostly, they chatted with him about all the changes since he’d left the service.
They were treated for chemical exposure. Osian was grateful to Chris for getting them out of the loo as quickly as he had. He’d apparently found a mop shoved through the door handle, blocking their ability to open the door.
Definitely not an accident.
The police had been called. They’d had a hazmat team from the fire services out too, before they’d gone into the bathroom. Their initial report was someone had mixed cleaning chemicals in one of the toilets
, enough to cause a serious reaction but not strong enough to kill.
Dannel arrived with Evie, Olivia, and Osian’s mum and stepdad in tow. They all stopped when they found Osian and Abra on their way out of the hospital. “Ossie.”
“I’m fine,” Osian assured him. He allowed Dannel to wrap his arms around him in a fierce but gentle hug. “Totally fine. Bit of a sore throat. But I’m not at risk for anything else. Promise.”
“How was this being careful?” Dannel murmured in his ear.
“I’m okay, love.” Osian eased his arms around Dannel, holding him tightly. “Think about our mums fighting over who gets to hug you first.”
“Osian Kincaid Garey.”
Osian peered over Dannel’s shoulder at his mum. “She’s glaring at me like we broke her vase again.”
“We?” Dannel reluctantly released him and stepped away. “You kicked the football. Not me.”
Osian didn’t get a chance to protest his innocence. His mum and stepdad rushed over, clutching him into a hug. “Mum. Mum. Mum. I don’t think the doctors will appreciate you ruining their hard work in making sure I can breathe.”
“Do you have any idea how concerned we were?” His stepdad eased away, though his mum clung to him with no signs of wanting to move. “All they told us was you’d been exposed to a hazardous gas.”
“I am actually alive and whole.” Osian sighed. He supposed he had no one to blame for their reaction. “I’d have texted you except they took my phone for the first hour. Didn’t Chris explain what happened?”
“He was apparently busy with the police.” Abra pulled herself away from her mobile. “He assumed we’d contact our families.”
Well, bugger.
His mum held on to him for a good five minutes. His stepdad eventually came up to help him. It was great until his sister decided to glom onto him.
“You absolutely silly bastard,” Olivia grumbled at him. “Mum might’ve panicked.”
“Just Mum?”
“We all might’ve freaked.” She released him and went over to give Abra a hug. “About the both of you. What were you doing? How’d you even get exposed to chemicals?”
“Yes, about that. The police asked us not to speak about it.” Osian looked pointedly at Abra, who’d definitely be the first to spill the beans. “I’m sure it was an accident.”
The journey home was almost as painful as being in the hospital. His stepdad insisted on driving everyone. Osian endured a never-ending lecture from his mum about not taking care of himself.
Dannel kept shooting glances at him. He obviously didn’t believe the incident had been an accident. Osian knew they’d be having a chat later in the privacy of their flat.
Two hours of parental interrogation later, Osian regretted every aspect of his day. He finally managed to feign exhaustion to get his mum to leave. She promised to check in on him the following morning.
Brilliant.
Two doses of mum guilt in twenty-four hours.
“So?” Dannel closed the door behind his family and leaned against it. “What actually happened at the Olympia?”
Osian held a hand up to forestall the second, more difficult interrogation of his day. “I’m going to need tea and cake first.”
“Shit.” Dannel leapt away from the door when someone pounded on it. “If it’s your mum, I’m hiding in the closet. She terrifies me.”
Rolling his eyes, Osian wandered over to open the door, since Dannel had decided to pretend the knock never happened. He opened it to find their downstairs neighbour, Ian. The man shoved a plate at Osian, then flounced off with a dramatic twirl of his coat and scarf.
“Do not injure yourself again.”
“Thanks?” Osian waved at Ian’s back. He peered underneath the aluminium foil cover the plate. “Oh, cake.”
Dannel came out of hiding to lean out of their open door. “Where’d he go?”
“Home?” Osian heard Ian’s door slam shut. “I bet he heard Mum talking about it.”
“Or she went around telling everyone to keep an eye on us.” Dannel grabbed the plate and wandered into the kitchen with it. “I’ll get the kettle going.”
“You realise if she did tell everyone. Adelle and Stanley will be by eventually. They’ll have a casserole.” Osian slumped into one of their kitchen chairs. “They always have a casserole.”
“It’s sweet. Weird, but sweet.”
“Tell me about your day.” Osian took the spoon Dannel offered to him.
The day had started out well enough for Dannel. He and Evie had spent a few hours reading and sipping coffee across from the police station. They’d never seen Joel Brown.
Though, Evie had thought she spotted a familiar face heading into the station. She hadn’t been able to remember who the woman was. They’d decided to head home when both of their phones had gone off with a text message from Chris.
While Dannel had stared at his phone in horror, Evie had corralled him into a passing cab. They made it to the hospital in record time. Neither of them was surprised that Osian’s mum had practically bulldozed through anyone trying to get between her and her son.
“I’ve never been so profoundly relieved to see you.” Dannel dragged a chair around the table to sit next to Osian, resting a hand on his knee. “Love you.”
“I love you. I’ll even let you have the last bite of cake.”
22
Dannel
Two days had gone by since the chemical attack. The police hadn’t made any arrests. CCTV footage from the Olympia merely showed a shadowy figure with a hoodie and scarf covering their face.
According to Chris and Roland, the police had once again lost the suspect, who seemed to have an uncanny ability to evade cameras. Dannel wondered if the person had ties with law enforcement. Each day brought more questions than answers.
They’d gotten a few calls from Ethan—concerned the killer might come after him. Osian had been the one to settle him down. The police had the situation under control.
They hoped.
“Post. Actual, real post.” Osian waved two envelopes in front of Dannel’s face, tapping him on the forehead and forcing him to wake up. “Olivia ran by the post office to pick this up for us. Someone sent us something.”
“Pretty sure this one is junk mail.” Dannel plucked the first envelope out of his hand and tilted it toward the light. “Apparently, we could be a winner.”
“You are a winner.” Osian sat on the edge of the bed. “Six: the Musical tickets. Did you order these?”
Dannel tossed the junk mail to the side and snatched the theater tickets from Osian. “No. Is there a note?”
“Nothing, not even a return address.” He showed the empty envelope. “Nothing but those tickets.”
“Who’d send us to Six?”
“Podcast fan? Family? Someone who wanted to play anonymous benefactor?” Osian grabbed one of the tickets to inspect. “They seem legit. We’re going to the West End to see six rocking queens singing about being Henry the VIII’s ex-wives.”
“Is it safe?”
“A public theatre? With masses of people? We can grab an Uber.” Osian sounded far more confident than Dannel felt. “It’ll be fine.”
They’d been saying everything would be fine since Gemma had died. Dannel didn’t know if repeating themselves meant it was true. He wished.
“We’re going to see Six.” Dannel knew they’d both had the play on their to-see list. “Inside voice?”
“Inside voice.” Osian chuckled. “Well? Are we going?”
Staring down at the ticket in his hand, Dannel didn’t want to waste an opportunity. Someone, a fan hopefully, had spent money. He could already tell Osian wanted to go.
Dannel didn’t know if his uneasiness came from anxiety at going to the theatre or a genuine concern over potential danger. He hated the idea of throwing away perfectly good tickets. “We’ll go.”
“Yes.”
“Inside voice,” he teased when Osian shouted. “Keep yo
ur head. We’re only going to see Six.”
“Hilarious.”
Despite the slight anxiety, Dannel was excited. They’d both wanted to see the musical about Henry VIII’s wives. He’d listened to the album multiple times.
The rest of the day went by in a blur of excitement and dread. Neither of them was able to focus. They’d tried for most of the morning and afternoon to accomplish something for their next podcast.
“We’re already a week behind.” Osian dropped his head into the table with a groan. “I don’t want to use Gemma’s death for a podcast.”
“We’re not using her death.” Dannel didn’t think anyone could accuse them of heartlessness for drawing attention to Gemma’s murder. “It would at least explain our absence.”
“I can’t.” Osian shifted his head to glance over at Dannel. “How do I talk about her in the past tense?”
“Maybe it’ll help you? And you never know if your sharing the grieving process might be good for the listeners.” Dannel pushed the notebook toward him. “Why don’t you start with jotting notes about the police investigation?”
“I just can’t.” Osian got up from the table suddenly. “I’m going to hop in the shower to get ready.”
Dannel stared after him in confusion. “Didn’t you shower once already?”
Since the incident at the Olympia two days prior, Osian hadn’t been himself. Dannel didn’t know what to do. He was usually the one struggling to understand his emotions and deal with them. Osian had always fit into the role of guide through the world of emotions. Dannel hated seeing him so closed off. He worried.
And he didn’t know what to do with worry.
His mum tended to cook when she stressed. Dannel stared into the kitchen. He didn’t see how making a mess would make anything better.
Right.
What does Ossie do when I’m off-kilter?
He turns the music on and sits with me until the world is easier to handle.
Dannel made his way into the bedroom. He heard the shower running, but Osian wasn’t singing like normal. “Ossie?”
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