After settling Ian in his dressing room with hot tea and a cadre of his theatre admirers to soothe his nerves, Osian decided to sneak around backstage before the police arrived. He saw no evidence of an intruder. The sound of running footsteps drew him deeper into the building toward a set of stairs leading into the basement.
Nothing. Someone genuinely wants everyone to believe there’s a ghost. Bellend. What are they getting from this?
They can’t honestly believe the police will stop investigating a murder and try for an exorcism instead.
What absolute rubbish.
Osian went halfway down the stairs towards the darkened basement where old props were stored. “You know, maybe I’ll wait for Haider. They’re getting paid to investigate.”
I don’t believe in ghosts, but a little caution never hurt anyone.
Taking the steps two at a time, Osian jogged back to Dannel and Chris. He found them mid-conversation with the two detective inspectors, who didn’t seem thrilled by the invasion of their crime scene. What a surprise.
Or maybe it was Dannel’s unwillingness to chat with them.
Time for an intervention.
“Hello, Detectives.” Osian sidled up to Dannel, casually drawing attention away from him. He could tell Dannel was teetering on the edge of being overstimulated. “Fancy meeting you here. Have you seen the destruction of your crime scene? Not very secure, now was it?”
“Mr Garey.” Detective Inspector Powell had definitely reached the limit of her patience for the day. “We’d intended to release the crime scene this morning as it was.”
The “not that it’s any of your business” was left unsaid. Osian smiled brightly. He’d always found it the perfect way to distract from any situation.
Smile.
People never know how to react.
“Music.” Dannel fished into his backpack and pulled out his earbuds. He wandered off down the hall with them firmly in his ears. “Bye.”
Osian shifted into the centre of the hallway. If Dannel wanted space, he’d get it. The detectives can bugger off if they’ve a problem with it. “So, what do you make of the slice and dice job done to Birdie’s costumes? Odd, isn’t it?”
“We can’t comment on an ongoing investigation.” Detective Inspector Khan tried to maintain a stern glare in the face of Osian’s forceful grin. “Did you touch anything?”
“Aside from myself or Dannel?” Osian ignored Chris, who coughed violently and turned away from them. He peered into the room. “Nope. We arrived this morning and stayed outside like the good lads we are. You might find the stabby scissors of particular interest.”
“Osian.” Haider lost his battle and chuckled. “Stabby scissors?”
“You can’t miss them.” He pointed toward the dress form. “Sinister placement.”
“Osian.”
With one last grin for the detectives, Osian dragged Chris down the hallway toward the back stairs. He wanted reinforcements while he tried to hunt down the ghost. Not that I believe in paranormal hauntings.
“Where are we going?” Chris followed him, hesitating at the top of the steps. “Any particular reason we’re going into a dark basement?”
“Ossie’s afraid of ghosts.” Dannel sat further down the hall. He had his earbuds in his hand. “I’m guessing he heard something again.”
“Well, we obviously can’t string up cameras with the detectives all over the dressing rooms. Let’s see what we’ve got in the basement in the meantime.” Chris shifted his bag from one arm to the other. “I’m getting tired of lugging all this equipment around.”
“With those muscles?” Osian chose to ignore Dannel’s comment about the ghosts. He decided to needle Chris instead. “Come on, granddad. Let’s get downstairs so we can get around to putting up the cameras.”
“What are you expecting to find down here other than dusty curtains and props?” Chris followed Osian, who pulled Dannel along for the ride. They went down the two flights of stairs, through the squeaky doors into the storage area. “Think they used this as an air raid shelter? It’s sturdy.”
“No clue. The building’s old enough.” Osian fumbled around before finding the light switch. He blinked to get accustomed to the sudden brightness. A grey object partially hidden underneath an old set of stage curtains caught his eye. “What are you? Why in the world is there a Bluetooth speaker down here? No one’s listening to music in this dusty tomb.”
“One of the cast trying to rehearse in peace and quiet?” Dannel suggested. “It’s where I’d go. I doubt anyone comes down here very often from the thick layer of dust.”
Osian crouched down to inspect underneath the curtain further. “Nothing else here aside from the speaker.”
“Not sure I call this nothing.” Dannel gestured toward all of the stacks of old posters, curtains, props, and even a few costumes on clothing racks. “I wouldn’t say this is empty.”
“Nothing connected to this.” Osian flung it halfway across the room a second later when the lights flickered and an ear-piercing shriek came out of the speaker. “What the actual—”
“So, I’m definitely adding one of my cameras to the staircase pointing at this room.” Chris went over to retrieve the speaker. “I might ask Detective Inspector Khan to see what he makes of this.”
“Right. And we should do that. Upstairs.” Osian had already started for the door with Dannel close behind. “Don’t pretend you’re not at least a little bit uneasy about ghosts.”
“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 friendly 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.”