Sport didn’t come naturally to Dannel. His coordination hadn’t been brilliant, particularly as a young man. He did find working out almost therapeutic, though.
Running, lifting weights, keeping fit. It had always offered an outlet for him during meltdowns. Evie had been his gym partner for years. She seemed to instinctively know when he needed to run his energy out on a treadmill in silence.
The day after the blowout with his family, Dannel had hovered on the edge of a meltdown. The energy of it almost sizzled under his skin. Evie had come by early in the morning, taken one look at him, and dragged him out to the gym.
Three hours later, Dannel had exhausted himself of the stress.
“Ready to head home?” Evie came over with a towel draped across her neck. She offered him a bottle of water. “I’ve got a shift later. And you seem to be feeling better. You pong a bit, though.”
“You don’t smell of daisies either.” Dannel set his weights down and began stretching out his body. “Mum’s been awfully quiet today. Not even a text.”
Evie wiped her brow with the corner of her towel. “First, you’re supposed to be releasing stress, not revisiting the cause. Second, your mum never met a text she didn’t like, so enjoy the momentary silence. Third, you dropped a massive heap of truth on your fam. They’re going to need time to process as much as you would.”
“No fourth?”
“Fourth?” Evie considered him for a moment. “Slowest to shower and change has to pay for coffee.”
Dannel watched her bolt for the stairs leading down to where the locker rooms and showers were. “I always end up buying coffee anyway.”
Deciding not to rush, Dannel carefully finished stretching out his muscles. He didn’t fancy a cramp halfway home. Evie would never let him hear the end of it.
Even with taking his time to stretch, Dannel managed to shower, change, and be outside waiting for Evie. She glared at him while he casually sipped his water. He was unbothered.
“Coffee, then? My treat.” Evie caught him by the sleeve, dragging him away from the gym. “Your dad’s been hanging around the station.”
Dannel caught his toe on the kerb, jolting forward into a jogger trying to sneak past them. He murmured an apology, then glowered at his best friend. “Evie.”
“Sorry.” She grinned at him. “Think he’s getting advice from the chief on how to stop being an absolute wanker.”
Dannel stumbled into a lamppost. “I’m sure Ossie would prefer I make it home in one complete, uninjured piece if you can restrain yourself.”
“What?” Evie’s smile widened even further. She peered at him over the top of her cat-eye shaped glasses. “Sorry. Listen, I think it’s doing him some good. He’s thinking about his actions. His mistakes. The ones both he and your mum made. You might start seeing a real change in him.”
Dannel shrugged.
Evie patted him on the shoulder. “Not saying to expect miracles. Just give him a chance to show he’s willing to change.”
“I’ll try.” Dannel refused to make any promises to anyone. He’d go at his pace or not at all. “I’m starved.”
Thankfully, Evie didn’t call him out on the sudden change of subject. They joined the queue at Greggs, grabbing coffees and a box of sausage rolls. He got enough to share with Osian plus a number of pain au chocolat for Stanley and Adelle.
“Well, I’m on a double shift tonight. Why don’t I drop these off with Adelle while you check on Osian?” Evie shoved him toward the stairs when they got to the building. “Go on before your sausage rolls cool.”
Stepping inside their flat, Dannel tossed his keys to the side. Osian was stretched out on the sofa, half asleep with a laptop resting on his stomach. He shut the door quietly to keep from waking him.
“I can hear you tiptoeing.”
“I’m not tiptoeing.”
“You are. You shush your feet when you tiptoe.” Osian sat up slowly with a broad smile. “I smell sausage.”
“Isn’t that the first sign of a stroke?”
Osian laughed so hard he had to grab the laptop when it slipped off him. “No. Toast is supposed to be one, but it’s more of a myth than anything.”
“Want to brainstorm over breakfast? Where’s Archie?” Dannel lifted up the coffees in one hand. He headed over to the table to set the drink carrier down along with the Greggs box. “We’ve got a podcast episode to sort out.”
“And a murder to solve.” Osian joined him at the table. They sat across from each other with the sausage rolls between them. “Dibs on the pain au chocolat. And Arch decided to head to his mum’s place.”
“We can share it.” Dannel thought, in retrospect, he should’ve gotten two of the chocolate croissants. “What’s this say?”
Osian leaned forward to peer at the barely legible note scribbled on the corner of the page Dannel had been reading. “Not a clue. Elder? Eviscerate? This part further down is a reminder to chat with the Evelyn Lavelle doorman about Howard’s ghost.”
The doorman at the Evelyn Lavelle had been there for years. He’d notice anything out of the ordinary with his theatre. Dannel grabbed the page from Osian to try to figure out his handwriting.
“Edwin.” Dannel finally figured it out. “Or escargot?”
“Why would I write snails in French?”
“You were feeling fancy?” Dannel snickered. He set the paper back on the table. “We’ll assume it’s Edwin.”
“We should see if we can corner him into answering questions.” Osian broke the chocolate croissant in half and offered part to Dannel. “Together. No more going on our own.”
“Haider will appreciate it.” He left out the fact the detective inspector would likely appreciate if they didn’t investigate at all. “Did you find anything in the security footage?”
Osian popped the last bite into his mouth, wiping his hands on his jeans. “We didn’t get any concrete evidence of murder or paranormal activity. One moment did stand out to me, though. Howard and Edwin having an argument the day before he was murdered.”
“Interesting.”
“Incredibly interesting.” Osian drained the rest of his coffee with a contented sigh. “There’s also a flash of someone just out of frame who I think might be Philippa.”
Twisting the laptop around, Osian played the short video several times. Dannel didn’t know what made him think the flash of fabric in the corner of the screen was Philippa. It could’ve been anything, even someone wandering by with a costume over their shoulder.
The clip of Howard and Edwin having an argument was far more intriguing. The two had what appeared to be a heated argument in which the former shoved the latter before storming off. Edwin chased after him, going out of view of the camera.
“Text Ian. See if Edwin’s been at the theatre.” Dannel wondered if they could corner the actor to get answers. “We have to find out what their argument was about.”
“Together.”
“You already said that.” Dannel sorted through the stacks of notes they’d both made. He found their outline for the upcoming podcast episode. “Did we settle on what story to feature first?”
“The ghost of the Evelyn Lavelle.”
“Current or former?” Dannel had a feeling the current ghost wouldn’t be nearly as impressive as the supposed haunting of the theatre’s namesake. “So, the ghost Evelyn Lavelle.”
“An unsolved mysterious death leading to a ghost? Perfect topic.”
While Osian continued texting with Ian, Dannel stole the last sausage roll. He stacked their various notes together into some semblance of organisation. They’d made little progress on planning the new episode.
We’re going to end up winging it again.
It never goes to plan when we do that.
“Edwin showed up for rehearsals.” Osian drew him out of his thoughts. “Why don’t you toss your workout gear in the laundry basket? We can chat about our episode while we walk to the theatre.”
“Think Haider finally cornered Edwin for a chat?”
“I’m not texting him to find out. He’ll yell at us for poking our noses into his investigation again.” Osian shoved his phone into his pocket. He fished their podcast notebook out from under the slips of paper and other folders. “We can jot our ideas down if we come up with anything brilliant.”
“Too tired to be brilliant.” Dannel tossed the remnants of their breakfast in the rubbish bin. “Did Ian have any thoughts about Evelyn Lavelle?”
“The life and times?”
“Her mysterious death.” Dannel had been intrigued by the lack of information about how the famed and glamorous actress had died.
Young, talented, and beautiful, Evelyn Lavelle had died under mysterious and suspicious circumstances. She’d been found in her dressing room, collapsed at her vanity while preparing for a performance. No autopsy had been done.
Poison?
Natural causes?
No investigation had been made into her death. The coroner of the time had declared her death a natural one. They had found a few mentions in newspaper columns of a supposed relationship with a high-flying politician.
Mostly in gossip columns of the time.
It made for fascinating reading. They’d have plenty of material to go over in the podcast. A potential old murder mystery combined with a current one at the same theatre.
“Ian found a few old gossip magazines at the theatre. They’ve got an archive featuring Evelyn Lavelle. We can skim through those.” Osian closed his laptop and handed it to Dannel to secure in his backpack. “Ready?”
“Let’s try not to get bashed over the head or locked in the loo or poisoned.” Dannel glanced around their flat to make sure he hadn’t forgotten anything. “Or stabbed with scissors.”