Dance of Death (11 page)

Having taken an immediate dislike to Tom Atterbury, he had a good first impression of Allan Redmond. Keedy met him outside a rambling house in Wimbledon. He was just about to ring the bell when he was hailed by a sprightly man in his late twenties. It was Redmond, returning from the common where he’d just taken his Labrador for a walk. When he learnt why Keedy was there, he invited him in at once and offered him refreshment. It was waved away with polite
thanks. Allan Redmond was a handsome man of medium height who held himself so rigidly upright that he seemed taller. His face radiated intelligence and his voice was the product of a leading public school. Keedy found it a little intimidating at first.

‘Yes,’ said Redmond, picking up a newspaper, ‘I read the report in
The Times
this morning. Simon Wilder, of all people – I mean, everyone liked Simon. He was a delightful chap when you got to know him.’

‘I understood that you and he didn’t exactly get on.’

‘We fought tooth and nail on the dance floor, if that’s what you mean, but there was no real animosity on either side. Simon was a true professional. I take my hat off to him. He’ll be a loss to the world of ballroom dancing and it’s already sustained far too many losses.’

‘Oh?’

‘The war, dear fellow,’ said the other. ‘It’s played havoc with us. We’ve lost so many marvellous ballroom dancers to the army. Many of them have been killed or maimed by the Boche. In a sense, of course, it’s helped people like Simon and Tom Atterbury, both of them in their forties. They’ve dominated the scene now that younger men have deserted it to go to the front, and it’s to their credit. At their age, they have to make extra efforts to keep a high standard of fitness, whereas young Turks like me can keep themselves in trim by taking the dog for a walk each day.’

Keedy didn’t believe him for a second. Redmond had the glowing health of a man who took pains to keep himself fit. They were in the living room of what Keedy learnt was the parental home. At that moment, Redmond’s father and mother were visiting relatives in Scotland, leaving their only son in charge. The place was redolent of people who belonged to the Victorian age, dark, dated and hopelessly cluttered. Redmond seemed quite out of place there.

‘Oh, I have a cottage of my own in the country,’ he explained, ‘and that is furnished more to my taste but this is a useful base whenever I’m in town. Anyway, ask what you have to, Sergeant. You don’t want to hear me burbling on.’

‘Where were you two nights ago, sir?’

‘I was at a restaurant in Mayfair, dining with a friend.’

‘May I know his name?’

‘No, you may not,’ said Redmond, smiling, ‘because it was a young lady. You can have her name and address, by all means. When I left her, it was very late. I got back here in time to see the most extraordinary air raid.’

‘Yes,’ said Keedy, ‘I saw it as well, sir. It was astonishing.’

‘That damned Zeppelin got what it jolly well deserved.’

‘I agree, Mr Redmond.’

‘Anyway, that will give you a more or less accurate time of my return here. But there were witnesses. Most of our neighbours were hiding under their bed with their fingers in their ears but a few intrepid souls came out to watch. I can give you their names, if you like.’

‘Thank you, sir.’

‘I’ve always been an obliging cove.’

‘When did you and Mr Wilder last see each other?’

‘That would be a month or so ago …’

Redmond recalled a chance meeting and what he described as an enjoyable chat. He went on to talk about the professional rivalry he and Wilder had shared over the years. There was no hint of the antagonism towards the murder victim that Atterbury had shown. Redmond appeared to be genuinely sad.

‘I’ll be at his funeral,’ he said, solemnly. ‘All of us will.’

‘There may be one exception, sir.’

‘Ah, you’re talking about Tom Atterbury, I take it.’

‘I met him earlier.’

‘Don’t take him too seriously. Tom is always rather spiky. My feeling is that there’s room for all of us to live together harmoniously in our chosen walk of life but Tom is not a devotee of harmony. Strife is his natural habitat. He divides people into friends and enemies.’

‘Then I suspect that the enemies vastly outweigh the friends.’

Redmond brayed. ‘You judge him aright, Sergeant.’

‘I was cast firmly into the ranks of the enemy,’ said Keedy, ‘because I had the gall to question his honesty. Mr Atterbury was very upset when I treated him as a potential suspect whereas you, Mr Redmond, have not turned a hair.’

‘I’m only too glad to be of assistance, old chap.’

‘Don’t you object to being questioned like this?’

‘Why should I?’

‘Nobody likes to be thought of as a possible killer.’

‘But that’s not what’s happening here,’ said Redmond, amiably. ‘We’re just playing a little game, aren’t we? And I know full well who instigated it.’

‘Do you, sir?’

‘Yes – you didn’t come here because you believe I committed a foul crime. You were sent here, out of spite, by Odele, dear girl that she is.’ He put his face close to Keedy’s. ‘Did she tell you why she mentioned my name?’

‘I’m not prepared to discuss sources, sir.’

‘I bet that she didn’t.’

‘Don’t assume anything.’

‘It was because she once got hold of the preposterous notion that she and I were engaged to be married. That’s how my name came to be
whispered into your ear. Let me give you a warning, Sergeant,’ he said, clapping him familiarly on the shoulder and lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. ‘Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.’

Odele Thompson poured two glasses of gin, added soda from a siphon then offered one of the glasses to her visitor.

‘Oh, I daren’t,’ said Audrey Pattinson, shrinking back in alarm. ‘I couldn’t go home with the smell of alcohol on my breath.’

‘That’s why I chose gin. It leaves none.’

‘Even so …’

‘Take it, for heaven’s sake,’ said Odele, thrusting it into her hand. ‘You need it as much as I do.’ She raised her glass. ‘Let’s drink to Simon.’

‘Well, yes, that’s a toast I won’t refuse.’

While Audrey took a small sip from her glass, Odele gulped down a lot more.

‘This is my secret weapon,’ she confessed. ‘You’ve no idea how many stage shows and dance competitions I’ve got through because I had a nip of gin. Simon preferred a tot of rum to get him in the mood but this is my tipple.’

‘The one time we drink at home is at Christmas, and then it’s only a glass of cooking sherry. Martin won’t have strong drink in the house.’

‘An army officer who doesn’t drink – I don’t believe it.’

‘Martin has always been abstemious.’

‘What about that club he goes to?’

‘He always says that he sticks to water.’

Odele doubted that. She’d only had a few brief meetings with Audrey’s husband but it had been enough to convince her that she disliked him intensely. He’d seemed cold, judgemental and detached. Odele had also noticed that Audrey was always on edge in his presence.

‘Is he helping you to cope?’ she asked.

‘Yes, Martin has been wonderful.’

‘I get my comfort from the gin bottle.’

Audrey gave a pale smile. She and Odele lived in different worlds that happened to collide occasionally in a dance studio. Having been their accompanist when Odele and Wilder first got together as a team, she had been replaced by the gramophone, but she’d seen enough of them as dancers to form an opinion of their standard. Though it was extremely high, it did not match that achieved by Wilder and his wife. In Audrey’s view, they had been the perfect couple.

‘I went to see Catherine yesterday,’ she said.

‘That was kind of you. I didn’t really feel that it was my place to drop in on her. There’s always been a slight awkwardness between us. Catherine feels a natural resentment that I took over from her so I keep out of her way.’

‘She always speaks well of you, Odele. She thinks you have every quality a ballroom dancer ought to have.’

‘Except one, that is.’

‘What’s that?’

‘I don’t have a partner.’ She took another drink. ‘How was she?’

‘We didn’t really talk but she’s bearing up much better than I am. Every time I remember what happened, I want to burst into tears. I actually went to the house to console Catherine but she finished up consoling me.’

‘What did she think of those two detectives?’

‘She thought they handled a delicate situation very well, especially that Inspector Marmion. He inspires confidence.’

‘I was more impressed by Sergeant Keedy. The inspector was far too staid for me. When I went to the police station, I was glad that the sergeant was there.’

‘Why?’

‘I had a feeling that he was more likely to take me seriously.’

Odele told her about the visit and how she’d named two possible suspects. Dubious at first, Audrey slowly came round to the idea that someone was so jealous of Wilder’s success that they wanted to bring it to an abrupt halt.

‘But I can’t believe that it was Mr Redmond,’ she said. ‘I met him once. He was quite charming.’

‘Oh, Allan can charm a bird out of a tree,’ said Odele, harshly. ‘If they gave prizes for charm, he’d be a clear winner. When it comes to honesty, however, it wouldn’t be the same at all. He never honours his promises.’

‘Have you ever danced with him, Odele?’

‘To my eternal regret, I once did.’

‘Mr Wilder said that he was a worthy rival.’

‘I won’t offend you by giving
my
estimation of Allan Redmond. Suffice it to say that he’s ambitious enough to brush away anyone who stands in his path. That’s why I gave his name to the sergeant.’

‘But he seems far too nice and well educated to be a killer.’

‘You don’t know him as I do.’

‘What about Mr Atterbury?’

‘Oh, you wouldn’t like him at all, Audrey, I promise you. He’s neither nice nor well educated. As for charm, he was at the back of the queue when that was doled out. Tom Atterbury has a cruel streak,’ said Odele. ‘Allan would murder a rival who stood between him and success, whereas Tom would murder for the sheer pleasure of it. He’s that kind of man. You’d be far too scared to play the piano for
him
. Tom would frighten the daylights out of you.’

It was Audrey’s turn to take a long gulp of gin this time.

When he eventually got back to the police station, Keedy found Marmion sitting at the desk as he sifted through some sheets of paper. The inspector put them aside.

‘Very little happened in our absence, Joe,’ he said. ‘Detective Constable Gibbs was hoping that the killer would pop in and give himself up but all he got were some people who thought they
might
have seen someone who answered the description of Simon Wilder on the night in question. “Might” is not good enough. We need someone who actually did.’

‘What happened to Gibbs?’

‘I gave him a pat on the back and said we’d call on him again tomorrow.’ He swung round in the chair. ‘Take a seat and I’ll tell you what I’ve been doing.’

Keedy sat down and listened to an abbreviated report about the inspector’s day. Like Marmion, he was disappointed that the safe in Wilder’s study had not yielded any clues as to the identity of his killer. He was interested to hear how calm and composed the widow had been.

‘She must prefer to do her crying in private,’ he said.

‘Mrs Wilder certainly wouldn’t do it in front of her brother. Sympathy is in short supply there. Clissold is more likely to tell her to pull herself together than show any human emotion.’

‘Did you mention the two names I gave you?’

‘Yes, I did, Joe.’

‘And?’

‘They obviously hadn’t occurred to Mrs Wilder.’

‘How did she react?’

‘She said that we could forget the name of Allan Redmond completely. Yes, I know,’ he said before Keedy could interrupt, ‘Redmond was the one picked out by Miss Thompson.’

‘Her money was fairly and squarely on him.’

‘Then she stands to lose it. Mrs Wilder warned me not to listen to any more of Miss Thompson’s suggestions. She claims the woman makes things up for effect.’

‘That wasn’t my impression of her,’ asserted Keedy. ‘What about Atterbury?’

‘Now he
is
worth a close look. Mrs Wilder was certain about that. Before you give me
your
judgement of the two men,’ said Marmion, ‘let me finish my tale.’

He told Keedy about his visit to Colette Orme’s house and how struck he’d been by the way that her father and her brother had supported her ambitions to be a dancer. When he talked about Dennis Orme’s acceptance of his lot as a disabled soldier, he didn’t need to draw a parallel with his own son. Keedy could do that for himself. He was touched by the revelation that Audrey Pattinson had given the young dancer free access to the studio so that she could practise on her own.

‘She seems to have treated the girl like a daughter,’ he remarked.

‘I wonder if her husband knew what was going on.’

‘I can’t see her defying Pattinson, somehow.’

‘Maybe not, Joe, but I can imagine her seizing the opportunity to have as much time away from him as possible. Dennis Orme didn’t like Pattinson at all.’

‘You’d have thought they’d have a bond, both being soldiers.’

‘Well, they didn’t.’

‘Why is that?’

‘Pattinson became very lordly, apparently. He treated Orme as if he was the lowest form of humanity. Paul complained about people like that in
his
battalion. They ooze superiority.’

‘Just like our superintendent,’ said Keedy.

‘Nobody is like Chat. He’s beyond compare.’

Laughing aloud, the sergeant took out his notebook and described what he’d been doing. Although it was the second of his two visits, he began with Allan Redmond, whom he found both pleasant and plausible.

‘I don’t usually like toffs but Redmond was different somehow. You couldn’t take offence at him. Mind you, I did wonder why he wasn’t fighting in France.’

‘Colette Orme had the answer to that – friends who can pull strings.’

‘It’s a pity her brother didn’t have the same friends or he’d still have two good legs. I hate the whiff of privilege.’