Dance of Death (15 page)

‘That’s very sad.’ Seeing that Catherine wanted to usher her out,
Colette moved on to the real purpose of her visit. ‘Did Mr Wilder
leave
anything for me?’

‘What a strange question!’

‘Did he?’

‘I haven’t really looked at his will.’

‘I’m not talking about his will, Mrs Wilder. I just thought that … there might be something for me in an envelope.’

Catherine’s voice tightened. ‘Are you talking about money?’

‘No, no, it’s nothing like that.’

‘I hope not.’

‘Then forget I even came. It was wrong of me to interrupt you when … and it’s not that important, anyway. If it had been, Mr Wilder would have left it for me. Clearly, he didn’t. Goodbye,’ said Colette, turning away, ‘I’ll let myself out.’

Before Catherine could move, her visitor hurried to the front door and opened it before charging out into the night. Fear and remorse etched deeply into her face, Colette ran all the way home.

When she got back to her flat, Alice Marmion began to regret that she’d been so intent on guarding her privacy. As a result, she would spend the rest of the evening alone. There were other female tenants in the house and they sometimes gathered in a room downstairs but there was no sign of them now. All that Alice could do was to return to her room and wonder what it was that made her want to keep Iris Goodliffe at a slight distance rather than seeing her as a potential true friend. Throughout the murder investigation, she would have to work her way through a whole litany of excuses because Iris would not be easily shaken off. There would come a time when Alice gave in out of exhaustion. Why not spare herself all the deceit, she asked?

As she sat beside the window, she gazed unseeingly down at the street. There was enough moonlight to pick out an old man with a dog on a lead. He walked past the house without looking up. A bus then drove past noisily. Alice didn’t even hear the sound. It was only when a car drew up in her direct line of vision that she took notice. The door of the front passenger seat opened, someone got out and waved a thank you to the driver, then the vehicle pulled away. Alice was on her feet in an instant. Though she could not make him out clearly, she was certain that Keedy had come for her. She raced down the stairs and let herself out of the building.

Flinging herself into his arms, she kissed away the time they’d been apart.

‘I never
dared
to expect you, Joe,’ she said.

‘I’ve always been full of surprises.’

‘How did you get hold of that police car?’

‘The driver was an old friend. I asked for a favour.’

‘Well, I’m the one who got the favour,’ said Alice, squeezing his arm. ‘Let’s go for a walk.’

‘You could always invite me in,’ he teased.

‘If I did that, my landlady would throw me straight out again. You know the rules, Joe. Men are only allowed in at certain times and under controlled conditions.’

‘What did your landlady used to be – a prison wardress?’

‘She’s very old-fashioned, that’s all.’

He fell in beside her and she took his arm. They strolled on down the street. For the first few minutes, they said nothing at all, simply enjoying the pleasure of being together again. Then he glanced upwards.

‘Who knows? We might get to see another Zeppelin being shot down.’

‘It was an amazing sight, wasn’t it?’

‘Yes, Alice, the problem was that it got me into trouble with your father.’

‘What did Daddy say?’

‘He wasn’t happy that I kept you out so late,’ said Keedy. ‘You didn’t get back to bed until the dead of night and neither did I. Not that I need have bothered, mind you. No sooner had I fallen asleep than I was awakened again. Your father was outside in a car. On the drive to Scotland Yard, I told him we’d actually seen the air raid and he went off into that disapproving silence of his. Anyway,’ he added, ‘that’s enough about me. What have you been getting up to?’

Alice told her about the new recruit and how she somehow had reservations about Iris Goodliffe. Though she liked her immensely, she felt unable to take their friendship to another level.

‘I can explain that,’ he said, airily.

‘Can you?’

‘It’s deep-seated jealousy. If you let her into your social life, you’re afraid that she’ll fall madly in love with me and want to scratch your eyes out.’ He recoiled from the punch she gave him in the ribs. ‘It’s one explanation.’

‘Believe it or not, Joe Keedy, not every young woman is standing there with her tongue out, waiting for you to come along. As it happens, Iris doesn’t seem that interested in men. She’s never had a boyfriend and never taken steps to find one.’

‘Is she attractive?’

‘She could be.’

‘So what’s the problem?’

‘Iris thinks she’d too podgy to interest men.’

‘Then let her lose weight. Take her out running somewhere.’

‘I don’t like running.’

‘That’s not true at all. You ran after me for years. Aouw!’ he yelled as she landed another punch. ‘All right, maybe
I
was the one doing the
chasing but that’s what men are supposed to do, isn’t it?’

‘You can be very annoying sometimes, Joe.’

‘It’s one of my many irresistible features.’ She laughed and he slipped an arm around her shoulders. ‘So what are you going to do with Iris?’

‘I haven’t decided.’

‘That’s unlike you, Alice. You’re very decisive as a rule.’

‘I don’t want her to take over my social life completely.’

‘Then tell her that in so many words. I’m sure that she’d appreciate a bit of leisure time with you even if it’s strictly limited.’

‘I don’t want to be unkind to her.’

‘Find out what she’s like off duty. There’s no harm in that, is there?’

Alice was pensive. ‘I suppose not …’

‘Right,’ he said, ‘that’s your problem solved. Let me tell you about one that I have. In the course of our investigation, we’ve met a middle-aged pianist and her somewhat older husband. Answer me this: how do we find out if the pair of them sleep together?’ When she began to giggle, Keedy was upset. ‘Don’t laugh, Alice,’ he remonstrated. ‘It’s a serious question.’

Seated at the grand piano in an empty house, Audrey Pattinson was in her element, playing a medley of waltzes, quicksteps and foxtrots as if trying to evoke the spirit of Simon Wilder. As her fingers moved deftly over the keys, she remembered him dancing with his wife, circling the floor in such perfect harmony that they might have been joined mysteriously together. Odele Thompson came next to mind, working hard to master every new figure she was taught and always ready to take the rehearsal on beyond its allotted time. Other female dancers came to mind, some much older than Wilder but feeling rejuvenated when they were being instructed by him. Finally, Audrey recalled the way that Colette Orme
had been introduced to the dance studio by her mentor. She arrived as a wide-eyed young woman with a lack of confidence and been taken on a magical journey, honing her raw talent into something that was a delight to behold and that would – in time, perhaps – have commercial viability.

Simon Wilder had made such a difference to so many lives. Men had profited from his instruction just as well as women. One couple who first met at the dance studio went on to get married and Audrey had played the organ at their wedding. Lost in her love of dance music and the memories it kindled, she nevertheless realised that she was no longer alone. While she didn’t hear her husband’s key being inserted in the lock, she was very much aware of his presence. Moments later, Pattinson opened the door of the living room and looked in.

‘You’ll have to stop playing now,’ he said.

She closed the lid of the piano at once. ‘Yes, yes, of course I will, Martin.’

‘I’m going to bed. It’s time that you did as well.’

‘You’re right,’ she said, submissively. ‘It is rather late.’

There was an exchange of muted farewells, then Pattinson climbed the stairs. Audrey heard him go along the corridor using a key to unlock the door of his bedroom. As on every other night, she heard her husband lock it again from within.

Since their father went off to work early that morning, Colette and her brother were left to have breakfast together. Orme spoke through a mouthful of toast.

‘Dad says that you went out last night.’

‘Yes, I did.’

‘Where did you go?’

‘I just went for a walk.’

He smiled sadly. ‘And I daresay that walk took you past the studio, didn’t it?’ She nodded. ‘There are other places to learn, Colette.’

‘Nobody could teach me like Mr Wilder.’

‘Then you’ve got to accept that and live with it. Look at me,’ he went on, indicating his leg. ‘Nothing will ever be the same for me either, will it? I’m never going to play football or do any of the things I loved to do. So I simply put it all behind me and start afresh.’

‘That’s different, Dennis.’

‘The difference is that you still
can
carry on as before. Inside your head, you’ve got all those dances and figures that Mr Wilder taught you. Find a new partner and you can blossom even more.’

‘I don’t feel like dancing ever again,’ she confessed.

‘You will, Colette.’

‘I don’t see how.’

‘Dad believes in you,’ he said, earnestly, ‘and so do I. That’s why we scrimped and saved to pay for the lessons. Don’t let us down, please. And don’t let Mrs Pattinson down either,’ he went on. ‘She believes in you as well.’

Colette ate her toast and retreated into silence. She still regretted the decision to go to the Wilder house. She’d been given a tepid welcome and left in turmoil. There was no way that she could explain to Catherine what she was really after. All that she did was to feel extreme embarrassment. It was only when her brother offered to make some more tea that she realised he was there.

‘No, thank you,’ she said. ‘I’ve had enough.’

‘So have I, then. I drink too much tea as it is.’ Orme grinned. ‘Last night, I drank far too much beer.’

‘I was in bed when you got back.’

‘They had to carry me most of the way.’

‘Daddy said that he’d always fetch you.’

‘I hate to call on him, Colette. Besides, what else are friends for?’

Dennis Orme was a sociable character. As soon as he was released from hospital, he set about finding other injured soldiers from his regiment so that they could meet in a pub once or twice a week to share their experiences at the front. They were important meetings for him, getting him out of the house and talking to the only people who really understood what he’d been through. Colette was proud that her brother was the unofficial leader of the group but she did worry that he drank far too much.

‘It’s not good for you, Dennis.’

‘You can’t turn down a pint from a friend – and the beer is watered, anyway.’

‘I worry about you.’

‘The only thing you need to worry about is a career as a dancer,’ he said. ‘It’s what we’ve all worked for, Colette. I can’t wait for the time when I walk past a theatre and see your name up in lights.’

‘I’d prefer to be known as a ballroom dancer.’

‘Then I’ll polish every cup you win until it dazzles your eyes.’ She laughed and reached out to touch his hand. ‘It won’t be long before I earn a proper wage again. My leg doesn’t hurt any more and I’m getting more and more movement in this other arm of mine. Can you hear what I’m saying, Colette?’

‘I think so.’

‘I’ll soon be able to pay for
more
lessons for you.’

Harvey Marmion was already missing the amenities of his office at Scotland Yard. While it was serviceable, the room allotted to them at Chingford Police Station had few comforts and, even in the warm
weather, had a lingering dankness. What both he and Keedy had noticed was the reliance on special constables. They were always flitting in and out. Some of them were in their fifties and sixties. War had depleted the Metropolitan Police Force. The thousands of officers who’d left to join the army had been replaced by untrained volunteers who learnt as they went along. At a time when the scope of police duties had widened considerably, the force was distinctly understaffed and overburdened.

‘We could do with another twenty detectives at least, Joe,’ said Marmion.

‘Make it thirty. We need to knock on every door in Chingford.’

‘
Somebody
must have been with Wilder that night.’

‘I agree,’ said Keedy. ‘The trouble is that she probably has a husband. The last thing she wants to admit is that she was enjoying some hanky-panky with another man. She must be panic-stricken at the thought that she was one of the last people to see him alive.’

‘We can’t assume that a lover is involved.’

‘Wilder was a ladies’ man.’

‘You’re forgetting that he had a beautiful wife.’

‘I still think that he strayed and I fancy that Mrs Wilder reached the same conclusion. It would explain why she didn’t exactly behave like most wives of murder victims. You said how controlled she seemed.’

‘That was because her brother was there.’

‘I think there was another reason. Deep down, she doesn’t really
care
.’

‘Some people don’t wear their hearts on their sleeve. Catherine Wilder could be one of them – unlike Miss Thompson, for instance.’

Mention of Odele Thompson made the sergeant recall his meeting with her on the previous day. He could still taste her kiss and felt guilty at doing so. It was one of the reasons he made the effort to see Alice that night.

‘Right,’ he said, getting up, ‘if you want me to tackle Allan Redmond again, I’ll be on my way. What will
you
be doing this morning?’

‘I’ll be speaking to Wilder’s bank manager. As soon as Gibbs turns up to take over here, I’ll be off. Bank managers are like priests taking confession. They tend to know their clients’ darkest secrets.’

‘My guess is that Wilder’s were darker than most.’

‘Leave me to find that out, Joe. Your job is to plumb Redmond’s secrets.’

He waved Keedy off and the sergeant left the room. In less than a minute, there was a tap on the door and Marmion expected Detective Constable Gibbs to report for duty. Instead, it was a uniformed policeman with the news that a woman had arrived to speak to the inspector.