Ghost Light Killer Read online

  The weeks following Gemma’s death had been strange. Grief. Dannel didn’t understand the grieving process; he was sad about her death, but life moved on as it always did. He’d tried to be patient with Osian, who’d been genuinely devastated.

  His brother, Roland, had explained that grief hit everyone differently. Dannel had been sad over Gemma’s passing. The emotion had flowed over him like a calm breeze, where Osian seemed to be battered by gale-force winds. Four weeks on, Osian had begun to return to normal.

  “And his mother?” Haider pulled Dannel out of his thoughts. “What was their relationship like?”

  “Good?” Dannel shrugged. He hadn’t known Mrs Dennis really well. “He did say she didn’t approve of his new boyfriend.”

  “New boyfriend?” Osian interrupted whatever Detective Inspector Khan had been about to say. “Since when?”

  “You missed the last coalition meeting.” Dannel tended not to gossip about relationship stuff. Not because he was above it, but he usually forgot to tell Osian. “Freya and Abra mentioned it.”

  “How do you forget to tell me about Archie’s new boyfriend? I could’ve bugged him in my last message.” Osian pouted. “Rude. What’s his name?”

  “No idea.” Dannel hadn’t been interested.

  “Coalition?” Haider interrupted their conversation.

  “The LGBTQ+ First Responder Coalition. A support group for former and current paramedics, police officers, and firefighters. We all started it three or four years ago. Abra and Evie currently run the organisation together.” Osian and Dannel were both inordinately proud of having helped create the coalition. It had snowballed into a more extensive gathering than they ever imagined, offering encouragement, counselling, or simply a mutual understanding. “Archie was one of the original founding members. We’re all quite close.”

  “Let’s get back to today.” Haider tried to pull them back to Mrs Dennis. “Did either of you touch the body?”

  “I attempted resuscitation,” Osian admitted.

  “Of course, it had to be you.” Haider pinched the bridge of his nose. “I need to speak with the other witnesses. Don’t go anywhere yet, will you? I might have more questions.”

  “Why don’t we wait in my dressing room?” Ian came over once Haider moved on and led them through narrow hallways and down a flight of stairs. He paused in front of a white door covered with cheerful notes from friends and admirers. “In we go.”

  Huddling in one corner of the room, Dannel and Osian had a moment to regroup. They tried to ignore the wildly gesturing Ian while he hyperventilated into his iPhone. The police were still questioning their way through the cast and crew.

  “Could Archie have murdered his mum?” Dannel kept his voice low, bending his head closer to Osian. “With scissors?”

  “Bit like Ron Weasley killing Mrs Weasley, isn’t it?”

  “Less ginger and probably less freckled, but yes.” Dannel tried to picture Archie in a rage but couldn’t. “Actually, no, nothing like it. Bad analogy.”

  “Fair enough. Ruin my joy,” Osian grumbled.

  There were loads of words to describe Archie. Jovial. Wild, even down to his curly reddish-brown hair. Paramedic. Traveller. Loyal. Dannel would never have imagined a murderer being part of the list. He knew Osian didn’t want to believe the worst of their friend either.

  “Boys.” Ian had finished his call; his sudden full attention on them made Dannel uneasy. “Can you believe this? First, a ghost. Then an actual murder?”

  “Is your play cancelled?”

  “Cancelled? A murder might just draw in even more of a crowd than my humble appearance.” Ian brandished his phone in their direction. “You boys simply must solve this case for me.”

  “Ian.” Dannel nudged Osian when he began to snicker. “We’re not detectives.”

  “Aren’t you?” Ian adjusted the scarf around his neck. “You’ve already solved one murder mystery. Why stop there? Wouldn’t it make your podcast about the West End more exciting?”

  “Not sure we solved anything so much as we survived long enough for the police to do their jobs.” Osian hopped up on the nearby dressing table. “Plus, the killers weren’t trying overly hard not to get caught.”

  “How shall I go on if you won’t investigate the murder of my dearest friend?” Ian swooned into his grand chair in the corner. He covered his eyes with one hand, peeking through his fingers at them. “Well?”

  “Us investigating doesn’t actually impact your ability to survive.” Dannel glanced over at Osian when he nudged his leg. “What? Oh. Hyperbole. Not literal.”

  Osian squeezed Dannel’s knee. “I doubt Haider will enjoy our unwanted interference.”

  “I will pay you in adoration and praise.” Ian winked exaggeratedly at the both of them.

  “Adoration and praise mean the same thing.” Dannel tucked his hand into his pocket to pull out his earbuds. “I’m going to sit outside.”

  Leaving Ian and Osian to discuss the non-investigation, Dannel meandered up through the theatre until he made it outside. He plugged his earbuds in and upped the volume on his video game playlist. Sometimes the only thing that helped his mind settle was music.

  Musical silence.

  Four songs into his playlist, Dannel managed to relax his shoulders. He enjoyed being around people, to an extent. Being alone was better.

  Not alone. With Osian. Music and Osian had always helped him.

  Osian plopped down beside Dannel on the bench outside the theatre. “Haider said we can go. He knows where to find us. Not much point in trying to ask about the ghost or for a tour. Archie’s still with the detectives.”

  “I can’t see him killing anyone.” Dannel had a clearer head after listening to the music. “Let alone his mum.”

  “Me either.”

  “Are we poking our nose in?” He leaned into Osian. “A little?”

  “I sent Wayne a text. He’s going to check in on Archie to see if he needs a solicitor.” Osian tapped his phone in his pocket. “Better safe than sorry.”

  “Better safe than wrongfully accused of murder.”

  “So, we’re definitely asking a few questions,” Osian commented after a moment of silence. “For Archie.”

  “For Archie.” Dannel figured they didn’t need to mention their own curiosity and obsession with true crime.

  “That’s what friends are for.”

  “Solving the murder of their mum?” Dannel stared at him.

  “Doesn’t quite roll off the tongue.” Osian glanced back at the theatre. “I wonder if we’ll be able to chat with Archie.”

  “Why don’t you wait? I’ll head home.” Dannel scratched at his palms, trying to alleviate the sensation of cooped up energy underneath his skin. “Need some….”

  They were both silent for a few minutes. The rush of adrenaline had carried them through the moment of finding Archie’s mum but had swiftly evaporated. Dannel dropped his face into his hands.

  “Poor Archie.” Dannel didn’t quite know how to put into words. “I can’t imagine losing my mum.”

  “I—” Osian cut himself off. He cleared his throat a few times. “We shouldn’t think about it.”

  “Maybe we should.” Dannel decided to call his mum later to say hello. “Not sure I can sit still here.”

  “Go on then.” Osian tapped the bench between them, knowing Dannel well enough not to touch him at the beginning of what they both recognised as a meltdown. “I’ll bring home an early tea for us.”

  “Cake.”

  “When have I ever not bought cake?” Osian knocked his knuckles against the bench a second time. “Shoot me a text when you’re ready for me to invade our space again.”

  Three

  Osian

  “Now, who are you?” Osian watched a well-dressed young woman dart into the theatre with her face shielded by a monstrosity of a hat. “Odd. Ian never mentioned any famous starlets in his beloved show.”

  “Osian.” Detective Inspector
Khan stepped through the front entrance and came to sit on the bench beside him. “Try not to play inspector.”

  “Would I do that?”

  Haider turned his head slowly toward Osian, lifting his eyebrows up in obvious disbelief. “In the time I’ve gotten to know you and Dannel. Yes, yes, you would.”

  “Fair enough.” Osian focused on the traffic passing in front of them for several seconds. “She was dead before we entered the room.”

  “Yes.”

  Osian shoved his hands into his pockets, trying to keep from fidgeting incessantly. “The paramedic in me feels as if I should’ve been able to make a difference.”

  “That’s not the paramedic in you, it’s survivor’s guilt.” Haider had spoken at length with Osian on the subject of post-traumatic stress and dealing with losing patients. “Something most of us in the service do.”

  “I’ll never be able to square not saving a life.”

  Haider breathed in and out deeply a few times. “This isn’t a video game where a healer throws a resuscitation potion and everyone lives. Your best efforts never guarantee a patient’s survival. And they can’t. Shouldn’t, really.”

  Osian couldn’t argue with the detective inspector’s logic, so he chose to stare blankly in silence at the traffic building in front of them.

  “Have you considered hosting a paramedic hour on your podcast?” Haider broke the silence after a while. “Talking through everything might help you and others. You’re not the only first responder struggling with burnout. It’s a serious issue we’re feeling across the services.”

  “Not sure my true crime podcast is the solution.” Osian cringed at the idea. Am I ready to delve into my years as a paramedic? Capable of dredging things up? “I don’t know.”

  “Start a second one.” Haider held a hand up when Detective Inspector Powell whistled for him by the entrance. “Maybe focus on sharing your experiences with burnout and losing a patient. It may help you find some peace.”

  “Thank you, Obi-Khan.” Osian grinned at the inspector, who rolled his eyes and heaved an exhausted sigh. “Can I chat with Archie, or are you holding him for questions?”

  “Leave it alone, Osian.” Haider squeezed his shoulder. “He’ll probably call you when we’re done with him.”

  So, that’s a no, then.

  Definite no.

  Retrieving his phone from his pocket, Osian checked for a response from Wayne. Nothing. What good is a solicitor friend if they don’t respond to you immediately? Useless. Well, time for cake, since Archie’s not going anywhere for the moment.

  With no message from Dannel either, Osian decided to pop by his best friend’s, Abra Gidney, place. She’d finished her four-day shift and had the next few days off. He grabbed a couple coffees, almond croissants, and cinnamon buns. Never too early for elevenses.

  Abra opened the door still in her oversized striped pyjamas. “Morning. Go away.”

  “You wound me, Abs. I even brought you croissants.” Osian waved the bag in front of her. “Buongiorno.”

  “What?”

  “Thought you were learning Italian to appease your ancestors.”

  “Sod off. I haven’t had coffee yet. Also, I’m telling my nan you called her ancient.”

  “Ancestor. Not ancient. And shouldn’t you call her your nonna?” Osian teased.

  “I’ll call you something.”

  “Do you want the coffee and croissant or not?” Osian chuckled when she grabbed him by the arm to drag him into her flat. “Wait. Are you wearing Freya’s pyjamas? Thought you were over your ex?”

  “I say this with all the love in the world. Shut up and give me the pastry.” She swatted him lightly on the arm. “Why are you out and about this morning? I thought you were heading to the theatre.”

  “You’ve missed loads.”

  “We spent most of the night chatting while playing Elder Scrolls online. What could I possibly have missed in twelve hours?” Abra clutched at the coffee he’d handed to her, taking a long sip of the warm liquid. “Brilliant invention, coffee.”

  “Isn’t it just?” Osian flopped down onto her slightly lumpy sofa. “We went to the theatre with Ian.”

  “Always a lively one.”

  “Less lively and more deadly, as it turns out.” Osian shook his head and stared into his coffee.

  “What?”

  “We were starting our tour of the theatre when we found Archie.” Osian paused for nothing more than dramatics and to annoy Abra, who huffed at him. “We discovered our dear friend bending over his mum’s body.”

  “Oh my god.” Abra set her cup down after almost dropping it. “Are you joking?”

  “Not even a little bit.” He leaned back against the cushions. “He can’t have murdered his mum, can he?”

  “Archie? Our Archie? The gentle giant of a paramedic?”

  “He’s been hiking around the world for ages.” Osian plucked a toasted almond off his croissant and tossed it into his mouth. “He might’ve changed.”

  “From cuddly healer to homicidal wanker?”

  “I admit it’s a stretch.” Osian’s instincts told him Archie hadn’t murdered his mother. He’d been attempting to save her. “I’m sure the police will find the killer.”

  “Are you?”

  He considered his brief brush with being mistaken for a murderer. “Fifty-fifty.”

  “You and Dannel could—”

  “Not you as well.” Osian cut her off. “Why does everyone suddenly think I’m Sherlock Holmes?”

  “More Miss Marple.”

  “Oi.” He threw one of the decorative pillows at her. “Rude.”

  “Accurate.”

  “Mostly rude. Though, imagine if I cosplayed as Miss Marple. How brilliant would that be?” Osian made a mental note to add it to his list of potential costumes for the year. “Detective Inspector Khan suggested I do a paramedics hour podcast. He thought it might help me process Gemma’s loss and the trauma left behind from my work.”

  Abra pointedly kept her gaze focused on her croissant. “And?”

  “What good would it do?”

  “You’re not the only first responder in London—or the world, for that matter—to deal with the consequences of daily trauma. We see so much in our jobs. Not everyone copes well. And we shouldn’t be expected to bounce back as if we’ve done nothing more than dance among the tulips.” Abra leaned forward in her chair, pointing her croissant chunk at him. “Why don’t you and I work on this paramedic podcast together? We can bring in guest speakers. Have specific topics.”

  “Have you been narking to Haider?”

  “Oz.”

  “Fine,” he grumped.

  Showing how long they’d known each other, Abra quickly changed the subject. They chatted for over an hour before Dannel texted him. Osian gave her a quick hug and headed out the door.

  While always open to leaving Dannel to settle himself in peace, Osian worried. How could he not? He’d loved Dannel since before they’d been old enough to understand what romance, relationships, and love even were.

  “Oz?” a familiar voice called out to him, halting his progress down the crowded pavement.

  “Archie.” Osian stepped to one side, allowing rushing people to go by. He waited for his old friend to catch up to him. “I see the police finished up with you.”

  “For now.” Archie grabbed him roughly by the arms, a hint of desperation evident in his voice and eyes. “Can we go somewhere and talk?”

  Osian had promised to bring home a takeaway from Ecco Pizza. Dannel likely wouldn’t mind adding a jolly paramedic giant to the mix. “Why don’t I text my man to see if he’s okay with extra company? You can tell us both what happened, save me from having to repeat the tale.”

  “I didn’t hurt my mum,” he blurted loudly enough that a passing couple almost tripped over their feet.

  Osian wanted to laugh at the alarmed glances from the couple. None of this was funny. “Well, I’m sure those pensioners are pleased to
hear you didn’t.”

  “Oz.” Archie scrubbed his hands across his face. “I’m serious.”

  “Yeah, I know, mate. I know. Maybe we should take this somewhere less public, though?” Osian wrapped an arm around Archie’s shoulders. “Come on. Let’s grab a pizza or four and head home.”

  After picking up two pizzas and several pulled pork burritos, they made their way home. Archie stared morosely at the box in his arms. Osian decided to leave him to his thoughts until they reached the flat.

  Aside from the sounds of music and eating, the flat was filled with an uneasy lack of conversation. Dannel focused on his pizza, Archie danced around the conversation he wanted to have, and Osian simply waited for him to get comfortable.

  Dannel finished up his last slice, wiped his fingers off, and turned to Archie. Osian held his breath, knowing a more direct approach was all but guaranteed. “Did you kill your mum?”

  “Dannel.” Osian covered his face with his hands to hopefully hide his grin.

  Dannel waved off his reproach. “We might as well get the conversation out on the table. All this dancing around will give me indigestion. He asked for our help.”

  “It’s a fair question.” Archie recovered from his initial shock well. “I didn’t hurt her. We did argue the first week I was home, I told the inspector. I loved my mum; everyone did. Well, almost.”

  “Argued?” Osian zeroed in on one of the critical parts of the admission. “About what? And who didn’t she get along with?”

  “My boyfriend.” Archie smiled somewhat bitterly. “Niall Bishop. We met on one of my last hikes through Kathmandu. He travelled with me for months afterwards and agreed to come home with me when I decided to visit mum. Not two days after, she’s telling me to break up with him.”

  “Why?” Dannel voiced the question on Osian’s mind.

  Birdie Dennis, for all her faults, had seemed to be a loving and accepting mother. She’d happily welcomed all of them into her house. Osian had enjoyed her slightly boisterous and larger than life personality.

  “She claims he cheated.” Archie shook his head, wiping a stray tear from his eye. “Claimed. She claimed to have seen him snogging some bloke outside the theatre.”