Ghost Light Killer Read online

  Blurb

  Several months after their first brush with death, Dannel Ortea and Osian Garey are back with a thrilling murder investigation in the second London Podcast Mystery Series novel.

  * * *

  While helping their flamboyant neighbour with his play, Dannel and Osian discover more than a ghost haunting the stage at the Evelyn Lavelle theatre. It's all fun and games until a friend is found kneeling over a dead body.

  Is he the murderer or an unfortunate witness?

  When one body turns to two, then to three, will the killer ever be found?

  As Dannel and Osian work together to solve the mystery, the murderer focuses on them. Their drive to clear their friend’s name puts them centre stage. But not everything under the glow of the bright lights glimmers.

  Will anyone be left when the curtain falls?

  Also by Dahlia Donovan

  The Grasmere Cottage Mystery Trilogy

  Dead in the Garden - Dead in the Pond - Dead in the Shop

  * * *

  Motts Cold Case Mystery Series

  Poisoned Primrose - Pierced Peony - Pickled Petunia

  * * *

  London Podcast Mystery Series

  Cosplay Killer - Ghost Light Killer - Crown Court Killer

  * * *

  Stand-alone Romances

  After the Scrum - At War With A Broken Heart - Forged in Flood - Found You - One Last Heist - Pure Dumb Luck - Here Comes The Son - All Lathered Up - Not Even A Mouse - The Misguided Confession

  * * *

  The Sin Bin (Complete Series)

  The Wanderer - The Caretaker - The Royal Marine - The Botanist - The Unexpected Santa - The Lion Tamer - Haka Ever After

  Ghost Light Killer © 2021 by Dahlia Donovan

  * * *

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any written, electronic, recorded, or photocopied format without the express permission from the author or publisher as allowed under the terms and conditions with which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorized distribution, circulation or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s rights, and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly. Thank you for respecting the work of this author.

  Ghost Light Killer is a work of fiction. All names, characters, events and places found therein are either from the author's imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to persons alive or dead, actual events, locations, or organizations is entirely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  For information, contact the publisher, Hot Tree Publishing.

  www.hottreepublishing.com

  Editing: Hot Tree Editing

  Cover Designer: BooksSmith Design

  E-book ISBN: 978-1-922359-76-6

  Paperback ISBN: 978-1-922359-77-3

  Ghost Light Killer

  Dahlia Donovan

  Hot Tree Publishing

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Also by Dahlia Donovan

  About the Publisher

  More From Hot Tree Publishing

  One

  Osian

  “This is Oz and D with Osian’s and Danny’s London Crime Podcast. We’ve got a real treat for everyone. We’ll be talking all things crime and ghostly in the West End, getting a tour of a few theatres with up close and personal tales of close encounters of the terrifying kind.” Osian paused the recording, satisfied with the brief intro to their next episode. He grinned over at his boyfriend, who rolled his eyes. “What? It’s perfect.”

  “Still not sure about Oz and D,” Dannel teased. “Plus, it took you five takes to say a paragraph.”

  “Rude and unnecessary.”

  “Is that non-autistic talk for accurate and truthful?” Dannel grinned at him. “What happened to ‘it’ll only take me a minute to record the intro’?”

  “Ian will be fashionably late as per usual.” Osian leaned across the table to brush a kiss against Dannel’s lips. “It’s boiling in here.”

  “It’s almost summer. I imagine we’re going to have the hottest on record.” Dannel rubbed his fingers across his shortened hair. They’d both gone for shorter cuts with the unseasonably warm weather. May had been ten degrees above average, which didn’t bode well for July or August. “Ian will be here soon.”

  “In a swirl of his scarf.” Osian watched Dannel continue to rub his head. Neither of them was used to the shorter length yet; Dannel, in particular, found it slightly uncomfortable at times.

  They loved their eldest neighbour. Ian Barrett had fully recovered from his brush with poison the previous month—one meant for Osian. The seventy-six-year-old was a retired actor/director who consulted with a small local theatre troupe. Ian was finalising the details on a musical after spending over a year working on it. Osian and Dannel had been invited to investigate a supposed ghost haunting the show.

  Just a few weeks back, they’d faced down a flesh-and-blood danger. A ghost didn’t seem too threatening. Osian hadn’t completely recovered from his brush with death.

  A killer had set their eyes on Osian after one of his patients passed away while he’d worked as a paramedic. His last call-out had been a horrific traffic incident where several people had died despite their best efforts. Two relatives had decided he and the other emergency responders should pay—with their own lives.

  Life had changed drastically in the short time since the killer had been captured—aside from the haircuts. Osian had returned to therapy to combat the worsening of his post-traumatic stress. The podcast, Dannel, and their family had helped pull him through.

  Now a retired firefighter at the young age of thirty, Dannel had tried a volunteer position. He’d been eaten up with guilt at not going out when emergencies came in and decided to quit. His time now went to building a cosplay fabrication business, something they both worked on together, as always. They’d been joined at the hip from infancy, growing up next door to each other. From best friends to boyfriends, Osian had never looked at anyone else. Ever.

  “Are you pulling out your Constantine costume?”

  Osian was yanked from his thoughts by Dannel holding up a bottle of blond hair dye. “It’s easiest.”

  Aside from his dark brown hair, Osian bore a striking resemblance to the actor who’d portrayed the character—Matt Ryan. Close enough he was practically his doppelganger aside from his bright blue eyes. His Constantine costume got used frequently.

  “How about you? Washington from Hamilton?” Osian had a particular fondness for seeing his boyfriend in the tight breeches from the musical.

  Dannel paused in helping him pack up their recording equipment to glare at him. “Get your mind out of the gutter. I’m not wearing breeches. Thought I might go as Maurice Moss from The IT Crowd, even though I’ve trimmed my afro down.”

  “You’ll be glad when summer hits
.” Osian thought the Moss costume would go down a treat. Dannel was a buffer, taller version of Richard Ayoade, after all.

  “Did you miss the part where I’m already boiling?” Dannel grabbed a card from the table to fan himself. “It’s hot. Inside voice?”

  “Definitely,” Osian assured him.

  As an autistic, Dannel often struggled to modulate his voice. He’d whisper or shout. Osian had gotten used to helping him find an even tone whenever Dannel asked.

  “Bonjour, my darlings,” a cheerful voice called out before their doorbell rang. “I shall await you downstairs.”

  Shooting a bemused glance at Dannel, Osian grabbed his wallet and phone. He tossed Dannel’s iPhone over to him. They caught up to Ian on the stairs; he waved the edge of his colourful, thin scarf at them.

  “It isn’t often two dashing gentlemen escort me to the theatre.” Ian slipped his lanky arm through Osian’s. He waited for a nod of permission from Dannel before repeating his action on the other side. “You’ll do wonders for my reputation. They’ll wonder how I keep up with you both.”

  “Ian.” Osian dodged to the right to avoid walking straight into a woman fighting with her umbrella.

  “Are we walking too quickly?” Dannel slowed his pace.

  “Not that kind of keeping up,” Osian explained.

  “Ah. In bed?” Dannel occasionally struggled with innuendo or any conversation that assumed the listener grasped subtext between the words. He tended to take things literally. “In bed? With Ian?”

  “It will feed my dreams for days.” Ian ignored both of their groans. “Shall we stop for a coffee?”

  Osian decided the change of subject was for the best. “There’s a café across from your theatre. How are your rehearsals going?”

  “You’d make a lovely musical.” Ian sidestepped the question.

  “What?” Osian didn’t know how to respond to Ian’s confident statement. “Me, specifically?”

  “Star-crossed lovers. Osian Kincaid Garey, a former paramedic. Myron Dannel Ortea Junior, a former firefighter. And their handsome, wise neighbour, Ian Barrett.” He smiled beatifically and patted Osian’s arm. “My rehearsals are going splendidly. I don’t even mind the ghost. It adds a certain something to the atmosphere.”

  “We’re not the Ghostbusters,” Dannel commented.

  “We did cosplay as Ghostbusters a few years ago.” Osian ducked away when Dannel tried to reach around Ian to yank his shirt. “We did?”

  “Not the point.” Dannel bickered with him all the way to the coffee shop. Ian seemed entertained by both of them.

  Given the morning crowd, Osian slipped into the café to grab coffees for the three of them. He was excited. They hadn’t had any guests on their podcast aside from Detective Inspector Khan; this might prove to be an exciting new direction for them.

  The podcast had grown significantly from where it started. Osian had never imagined anyone aside from friends and family listening in, but their audience continued to grow each week.

  Three coffees and a box full of assorted mini scones later, Osian carried his purchases outside. Dannel immediately grabbed the scones from him. Typical. They went up the street, around a corner, and found themselves standing in front of the iconic Evelyn Lavelle, one of the smaller West End theatres. It was named for the legendary Edwardian actress Evelyn Lavelle, who’d been one of the most photographed women of the time. A portrait of her by the artist of the time hung backstage in the theatre. Her beautiful voice and visage were said to haunt the dressing rooms.

  The theatre was a small space, with two levels of seating in a historic building from the early 1900s. Osian had always loved the Evelyn Lavelle. With beautiful, brilliant acoustics, the sound carried in a way modern auditoriums could only pretend to replicate.

  Of all the theatres they’d been to, the Evelyn Lavelle certainly felt as though it might be haunted. It had been well cared for and occasionally restored to perfection over the years. He often wondered if actors and actresses from the golden age of the twenties haunted the stage.

  “Are we ready?” Ian sipped his coffee before adjusting his scarf carefully around his neck. He paused when a hideous scream came from inside the theatre. “Oh dear, sounds as though the ghost has struck again.”

  Osian exchanged a worried glance with Dannel. “Maybe we should head inside?”

  Ian led them into the theatre. They found a crowd gathered backstage in front of a door. “What’s going on? Let me through.”

  Osian stayed close behind Ian. He managed to peer between the gawkers and could only stare in shock. “Archie?”

  “Oz?” Archie was kneeling on the floor, almost keening in grief, bent over a grey-haired woman prone on the ground. He leaned back to turn tear-filled eyes toward Osian. “Oz. Help her. Please?”

  “Someone call 999.” Osian shoved his way through the gathered actors and stagehands. He dropped to his knees beside Archie, trying to assess the situation. “Hurry. Someone call 999. There’s not much time.”

  Damn it all.

  It’s already too late.

  “I’ve got it.” Ian fumbled in his pocket for his phone. “Everyone make room. He’s a paramedic.”

  Former paramedic.

  We should’ve stayed at home.

  “Does anyone know who she is?” Osian tried to delicately assess the health of the woman on the floor without moving her. He couldn’t see her face. His attention was focused on the scissors plunged into her back. “Archie?”

  “My mum.”

  And our morning was going so well.

  Two

  Dannel

  “Not you two again.” Detective Inspector Haider Khan had pushed through the throng of onlookers, coming to a halt when he spotted Dannel and Osian. He pinched the bridge of his nose for several seconds. “Why am I not surprised?”

  “We’ve got witnesses. It wasn’t us,” Dannel insisted immediately. “Definitely not us.”

  “Inside voice.” Osian bent forward to whisper.

  “Sorry.” Dannel grabbed Osian’s hand. “We were definitely not in the room where it happened.”

  Haider narrowed his eyes on them when Osian muffled his snort of amusement against Dannel’s arm. “Small mercies, I suppose.”

  Surveying the room and the crowded hallway, the detective inspector waved over the constables who’d come with him. He dispatched them to herd the witnesses out into the auditorium. His partner, Detective Inspector Powell, joined him; her eyes widened when she caught sight of Dannel and Osian.

  Dannel didn’t want to risk unnecessary attention. He’d seen before how that almost led to Osian’s arrest. “We’ll join the other witnesses.”

  “Not so fast.” Haider glanced around the room. Archie still stood in the far corner, pale and shaking, watching the paramedics finish up and step aside for the coroner. “While DI Powell speaks with your friend, why don’t we move down the hall and you two tell me what happened?”

  After their close encounters with the police the previous month, Dannel didn’t envy Archie the sudden and full attention of Detective Inspector Powell. Should we call someone? Wayne Dankworth had been their solicitor and happened to be dating Dannel’s younger brother, Roland.

  Does dating your best friend run in our family? Maybe not. Myron certainly wasn’t Mum’s best friend. Or perhaps he was in the beginning, and I don’t remember?

  Is Mum right about my being unfairly harsh and not understanding what happened between them?

  “Dannel?”

  He blinked a few times when Osian waved his hand in front of him. “What?”

  “Dead body. Detective. Questions.”

  Right. Focus. Family confusion after we deal with another murder. I hope this isn’t going to be a trend.

  “Are you okay?” Haider waited until they both nodded before pulling his notebook and pen out. He flipped through the pages to a fresh page. “Did you know the deceased?”

  “Yes.”

  “No.” Osian
glanced over at Dannel. “Well, technically yes. Define ‘know.’”

  “Ossie.” Dannel prodded Osian in the side. They might’ve become friendly with the detective inspector but now wasn’t the time for jokes. “She’s our friend Archie’s mum. She worked here at the theatre. We were supposed to chat with her about the ghost. And maybe a few West End murder mystery legends for our podcast. We didn’t know Archie would be here.”

  “By no, I meant we didn’t know who was deceased at the time.” Osian shrugged.

  Haider blinked at Dannel and ignored Osian, obviously surprised at the unexpected and rapid flow of words. “And Archie is?”

  “Her son?” Dannel thought they’d already covered that piece of information. “Ossie knows him better. They worked together when they were both paramedics.”

  “We both quit after the London wreck.” Osian leaned into Dannel. He still hated talking about the horrific accident that had led to his leaving his beloved career with the ambulance service. “Archie. Archie Dennis. He chose to travel the world, something about finding himself and living life to the fullest. Gemma knew him best.”

  Poor Gemma. A paramedic friend who’d been murdered a month prior. The first shot across the bow by the murderers who’d been after Osian. Dannel was relieved they’d never have to worry about them again.