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 never 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.”
“We’d be shoving our noses too far into the investigation. So far we might get them cut off. Don’t be a daft twit.” Dannel jostled Osian to the side to avoid barging into a woman struggling down the sidewalk with her three children. “We’ll see Archie and Wayne at the dinner party tonight. I’m sure they’ll tell us all about the visit to the police station without having to risk Haider’s ire.”
“Fine.” Osian paused on the corner, waiting for several cars to go by and then jogging across the street with Dannel. “Remember the old doorman at the theatre?”
“Chester?”
“Lester?”
Dannel stopped walking and tried to think back to the cheerful old bloke who bore a striking resemblance to Santa, complete with a long beard and round tummy. “Bob.”
“You sure an ‘ester’ wasn’t involved somewhere?”
Dannel snickered with Osian. “Maybe not Bob. Something benignly normal.”
“Brigham Green.” Osian stopped in the middle of the pavement. “That was his name. I remember now. We always teased him about being a puritan.”
“Yes, Brigham. Completely normal-sounding name.” Dannel tried to remember when they’d seen him last. “Where’d he go after retiring?”
“No idea. I do know he liked walking his dog in the same park as Adelle and Stanley. Why don’t we have a peek on the way home? Maybe he’s there.” Osian intertwined his fingers with Dannel’s while they continued walking. “I’m thinking he might have some theatre gossip for us. He’s still coming by the Evelyn Lavelle to help Ian from time to time and knows absolutely everyone.”
Dannel paused for a second, trying to recall something Evie had told him once. “Didn’t Brigham and Birdie have an affair once? Like ten years ago or something?”
“Maybe he’s Archie’s real dad.”
“Brigham isn’t ginger.”
“Well, he’s grey-haired now. He might’ve been ginger in a previous life.” Osian occasionally had a far too vivid imagination. “Seriously, though, maybe it’s not Archie’s relationship causing the problems. Maybe it was Birdie’s. We could ask. You should ask him.”
“Don’t throw me in front of the firing line for awful questions. I am not going to ask Archie about his mum’s sex life.” Dannel shuddered. Is there a more awkward topic of conversation? Probably. “Why don’t we see if we can find Brigham? Maybe we can find a subtle way to fit Birdie into the conversation.”
“Us? Subtle? Sure.”