Dance of Death (6 page)

Keedy groaned. ‘I’d sooner be back in uniform.’

The traffic cleared, the car picked up speed and they eventually got near their destination. Since he was a stranger to the area, the driver
stopped to ask directions from a passer-by. Two minutes later, the vehicle was turning into a tree-lined avenue with a series of detached houses down each side. Audrey Pattinson’s address had been found in the appointment book along with the addresses of everyone else connected to the dance studio. Marmion could see why Catherine Wilder had been so loath to part with the book. It was a detailed record of the life she’d shared with her husband and, as such, would be a treasured memento.

‘There’s one thing I couldn’t find in here, Joe,’ he said.

‘What was that?’

‘There’s no record of payment to the accompanist.’

‘Perhaps she played for nothing.’

‘I can’t believe that he’d exploit her like that.’

‘You have to be ruthless in business.’

The car stopped at the kerb and they got out. Marmion led the way up the little path and rang the doorbell. A moment later, Martin Pattinson opened the door and identified them from press photographs.

‘I’ve seen you two gentlemen before, I fancy,’ he said.

‘Then you’ll know our names, sir. Are you Mr Pattinson?’

‘I am, indeed. You must have come to interview my wife.’

‘Is she aware that …?’

‘I’m afraid so, Inspector Marmion. Be gentle with her, please. She’s in a very delicate state. Working with Mr Wilder meant a great deal to her.’ He ushered them into the living room. Audrey was in a chair, staring blankly ahead of her. ‘There are some detectives from Scotland Yard who wish to speak to you, my dear.’

‘What?’ She came out of her reverie. Seeing the visitors, she became flustered. ‘Oh, I wasn’t expecting anyone to call.’

‘We were hoping you might be able to help us, Mrs Pattinson.’

‘I’m sure that she will, Inspector,’ said her husband. ‘May I stay or would you rather not have me in the way?’

‘The choice is yours, sir. I suspect that Mrs Pattinson would prefer you to remain and we’re very happy with that.’

Audrey nodded and beckoned for her husband to sit beside her. Marmion and Keedy were waved to an armchair apiece. While the inspector held the appointments book in his hand, Keedy took out his notebook and pencil. As they settled down, they each stole a quick look around the room. A third of the space was taken up by a grand piano. On the mantelpiece was a large, framed photograph taken at the Pattinsons’ wedding. He was wearing an army uniform and his wife was in a white bridal dress. Both of them looked to be well into their thirties.

‘What would you like to know, Inspector?’ prompted Pattinson.

‘Well, we really want to find out where Mr Wilder went yesterday evening. That’s our starting point. When did you last see him, Mrs Pattinson?’

Audrey leant forward. ‘I played for him at a class in the afternoon and left there about three o’clock. That was the last time I …’ Tears threatened but she made an effort and kept them at bay. ‘That was the last time I saw him alive.’

‘Do you have any idea where he went after that?’

‘Well, he had two more classes, of course, and that would have taken him on to five o’clock. Mr Wilder used music from the gramophone for those.’

‘Why did he do that, Mrs Pattinson?’ asked Keedy. ‘Were you too exhausted after playing the piano for four hours?’

‘Not at all,’ she replied, huffily. ‘I’ve played for five or six hours on many occasions. It’s not continuous accompaniment, you see. Mr
Wilder gives instruction first. It’s only when certain figures are perfected that he’s ready to dance to music. When some of the beginners come to a class, I sit on my hands most of the time.’

‘Did Mr Wilder tell you where he was going that evening?’ asked Marmion.

‘No, Inspector, and it wasn’t my place to ask.’

‘His wife said that he’d gone off on business somewhere.’

‘Then that’s what he did.’

‘He was an extraordinary man,’ said Pattinson. ‘I’ve never met anyone with that amount of energy. He was indefatigable.’

‘We’ve gathered that, sir.’ Marmion tapped the book then switched his gaze to Audrey. ‘I see that you’ve had a long association with him, Mrs Pattinson.’

‘Audrey joined him soon after he opened the dance studio,’ said her husband on her behalf. ‘He tried another accompanist before her but the man could not compete with my wife.’

‘How would you describe him?’

‘He was a man of the utmost charm and had a good business sense.’

‘Actually, sir,’ said Marmion, pleasantly, ‘the question was for your wife.’

‘I do beg your pardon.’

‘Mrs Pattinson?’

After a considered pause, she began to speak, measuring her words carefully. It was almost as if she’d been gathering material for a biography of Simon Wilder because she knew so much about him. The detectives were not surprised to find out that, before he turned to dancing, he was an actor. He’d had a fairly successful career onstage but there were inevitable lulls. During periods of unemployment, it transpired, he had a second string to his bow. As the son of a
photographer, he’d learnt the trade at his father’s knee and become so proficient that he was able to make a good income by taking photographs.

‘They were mostly of other actors,’ said Audrey. ‘A lot of them still choose Mr Wilder’s portrait of them to put on display at the theatre in which they’re working. That shows how good they are.’

‘Actors are very vain,’ added her husband. ‘Look at those photographs and you’ll see that they were usually taken years ago. Oh, I’m sorry,’ he said, drawing back, ‘I didn’t mean to interrupt.’

Audrey continued her monologue, explaining that Simon Wilder was a stage name. He’d been christened Stanley Hogg but felt that it was not the ideal name for an ambitious young actor. He’d met Catherine when they appeared together in a play by Bernard Shaw. She’d been trained in ballet and the couple shared a love of dance. Once married, they devoted all their spare time to dancing until they reached a level where they began to win competitions and garner good publicity. Abandoning the stage, Audrey told them, they bought the hall and converted it into a dance studio.

‘That must have cost a lot,’ observed Marmion.

‘Mrs Wilder had private wealth,’ said Pattinson, butting in again. ‘Not that I’m suggesting Wilder married her for her money. Heaven forbid! No, they’re very well matched. They worked around the clock to get where they are now and deserve every ounce of success.’ He touched his wife’s hand. ‘I do apologise, Audrey. You know far more about them than I do. Please go on.’

But the interruption had served to stem the flow of her reminiscences. After a few more sentences, she sat back and folded her arms to show that she’d finished.

‘Thank you, Mrs Pattinson,’ said Marmion. ‘That was enlightening.’

She smiled for the first time. ‘He and his wife were the personification of grace on the dance floor.’

‘But I was told that she is no longer able to partner him,’ said Keedy. ‘Since her accident, she’s had persistent back problems.’

‘Fate was so cruel to the poor woman. She can’t even take classes.’

‘Who replaced her as Mr Wilder’s dancing partner?’

‘Odele Thompson.’

‘She was the person in the final class yesterday afternoon,’ said Marmion, remembering the name he’d seen in the appointments book.

‘That was usually the case, Inspector. They wanted practice time. Mr Wilder didn’t need to instruct Miss Thompson. She’s a professional dancer, you see. After a day with less talented dancers, he loved to work with someone who was his match on the dance floor.’

‘Yet he didn’t make use of you as an accompanist.’

‘He had the gramophone. They were able to dance to a full orchestra. Is that all?’ she asked, wearily. ‘I’m very, very tired.’

‘Then we won’t tax you any more, Mrs Pattinson,’ said Marmion, getting to his feet. ‘I’m sorry to intrude at a time like this. We’ll leave you in peace.’

‘One last question,’ said Keedy, rising from his chair. ‘When the inspector went through that book earlier on, he couldn’t find any mention of payment for the accompanist. How do you explain that?’

Audrey was so shocked by the question that she began to tremble. It was almost as if Keedy had hurled an insult at her. Pattinson glared at him with something akin to outrage. He crossed to the door and held it wide open.

‘Good day, gentlemen,’ he said. ‘I’ll show you out.’

Since she knew how busy her brother-in-law was, Ellen was very grateful that he’d been able to make time to call at the house. She gave him a kiss of welcome and took him into the living room. Raymond Marmion was a few years younger than his brother but he had the same solid frame and the same pleasant features. What set them apart was that Harvey Marmion had far more hair and an almost permanent look of concentration. His brother, on the other hand, had a spiritual quality that seemed to shine out of him like a beam of goodness. He had a big, friendly, open face and a high, domed forehead. In his Salvation Army uniform, with its silver crest denoting his seniority, he was an imposing figure. As he sat on the sofa, he put his peaked hat down beside him.

‘It’s wonderful to see you again, Raymond,’ she said.

‘Your telephone call worried us.’

‘I didn’t mean to burden you with our problems. It’s just that Paul is behaving strangely and – without Harvey here – I’m having difficulty handling him.’

‘Where is he now?’

‘He’s upstairs in his room.’

‘What exactly is the trouble, Ellen?’

‘Before I tell you,’ she said, perching on the edge of an armchair, ‘let me first ask after you and the family. How are you all?’

‘We’re much as usual,’ he replied. ‘We could do with less work and more sleep but that’s impossible in the life we’ve chosen. Lily sends her love, by the way.’

‘Take ours back to her.’

Ellen had always liked him. Raymond Marmion was kind, compassionate and trustworthy. She felt able to confide her innermost secrets to him, knowing that she would always get a fair hearing and good advice.

‘I do feel something of a fraud,’ she began.

‘Why is that?’

‘Helping people in distress or in dire circumstances is what you do for a living. Our problems are nothing beside those of people who are on the verge of starvation or simply have nowhere to live.’

‘It’s nonetheless real, Ellen.’

‘And we’re so much better off than other parents of wounded soldiers.’

‘Forget about them. Let’s talk about Paul.’

She heaved a sigh. ‘I’m not quite sure where to start …’

It was as if a tap had been turned on inside Ellen. One after the other, her woes and fears poured out in quick succession. She listed a whole a series of incidents that ended in friction with her son. When she told him about the letter from Mavis Tandy, he held up both palms to stop the surge.

‘Hold on a moment,’ he said. ‘Why were you so unhappy when he agreed to meet this person?’

‘She wants to talk about Paul’s best friend. She wants to know exactly what happened to Colin Fryatt. I read her letter out to him. It
seemed so … well, morbid. She’s obviously grieving – and she has my sympathy for her loss – but she’s trying to draw memories out of Paul that are best left hidden.’

‘There are some things you just can’t bury, Ellen. This may be one of them.’

‘I don’t want him to suffer that torment all over again.’

‘In the end, it’s his choice.’

‘He should put it all behind him.’

‘That’s easier said than done. What do you know of Mavis Tandy?’

‘She lives in Gillingham.’

‘How did she come to meet Paul’s friend?’

‘Oh, it was quite by chance,’ said Ellen. ‘Colin had relatives in Gillingham and called on them during his last leave. He met Mavis at the tea shop where she worked. When she realised he was a soldier, she said that she was thinking of volunteering to become a nurse and asked what conditions were like in France. They liked each other on sight, apparently. That’s how it started.’

‘Then it sounds very much like the way Lily and I got together,’ he said with an affectionate smile. ‘I saw her walking down the street and I was captivated. She was not just beautiful, she was so self-possessed. I’d never met a woman like her.’

She gave a dry laugh. ‘It was different for Harvey and me. We took a long time to decide if we really had found the person we’d like to share our lives with. The trouble was that we spent so little time alone. My father was very strict. He watched us like hawks.’

He chuckled. ‘I remember my brother complaining about it.’

‘He always said that if
we
ever had a daughter, he’d allow her more freedom.’

‘And is that what he did with Alice?’

‘Well, no, Harvey was almost as bad as my father at first. When she had her first boyfriend, he told her the exact time she had to be back at home.’

‘I can’t imagine Alice putting up with that attitude.’

‘She challenged her father. I was too meek and mild to do that with mine.’

‘You never struck me as meek and mild, Ellen. You’ve got real spirit.’

‘I’ve only been able to show it since I was married.’ She reached out to touch his arm. ‘Will you speak to Paul for me, please?’

‘I haven’t come all this way to miss seeing my nephew.’

‘Thank you, Raymond. I knew I could rely on you.’

‘I can’t promise I’ll achieve the result you want.’

‘That’s part of the problem,’ she confessed. ‘Where Paul is concerned, I’m not absolutely sure what I
do
want.’

On the drive to the next house, the detectives were able to discuss the visit to the Pattinson household. Both of them had reached the same conclusions.

‘Mrs Pattinson is smitten with Wilder,’ said Marmion, ‘and her husband is not entirely happy about that.’

‘No,’ agreed Keedy, ‘if he hadn’t been there, his wife would have been able to talk much more freely.’

‘She filled in a lot of blank spaces for us, Joe. I’m grateful to her for that.’

‘So am I. Did you notice that photograph on the mantelpiece?’

‘Yes, Pattinson was wearing the uniform of a major.’

‘A lot of retired soldiers use their rank to impress people. I wonder why he doesn’t do that.’

‘He must have his reasons.’

They were both mystified by the response they got to their inquiry
about payment. Since Wilder had been running a business, they’d assumed that he would pay his accompanist accordingly but she was insulted by the very suggestion, and so was her husband. Marmion took a practical view.

‘She’s obviously a good pianist,’ he said, ‘and deserves some sort of wage.’

‘Maybe she’s happy with rewards of the heart.’

‘Would
you
be happy in her situation?’

‘No, I certainly wouldn’t. I’ve got too many bills to pay. Anyway,’ admitted Keedy, ‘I haven’t got a musical bone in my body. Alice says that I can’t even whistle in tune. She’s always complaining about it.’

‘Alice had piano lessons when she was younger. She used to practise all hours. When she was a teacher, she sometimes played for the children. But the real surprise is Paul,’ he continued. ‘He’s turning into the family musician.’

‘Is he still playing his friend’s mouth organ?’

‘Yes,’ said Marmion, ‘but it’s not any old mouth organ with a limited range of notes. His friend, Colin Fryatt, used to belong to a harmonica band. From time to time, they earned a few bob playing in pubs.’

‘Is that what Paul wants to do?’

‘No, Joe, I think it just helps him pass the time. But he’s got a good ear for music and loves playing the songs they sing at the front. Ellen gets a bit fed up when she hears “It’s a Long Way to Tipperary” a hundred times a day but playing the mouth organ seems to be his only interest.’

Paul Marmion shook hands with his uncle. Though pleased to see him – if only in hazy outline – he had no illusions about the purpose of Raymond Marmion’s visit. When his mother went off to make some tea, Paul sat down opposite him.

‘How are Auntie Lily and the boys?’ he asked.

‘They’re keeping busy. Your aunt is in charge of the soup kitchen. We sell it at a penny a bowl. We’re always short of helpers.’

‘Don’t look at me.’

‘You don’t need much training to dole out soup.’

‘It’s not the work that worries me. It’s the uniform.’

‘You wouldn’t have to wear one.’

‘No, but I’d be surrounded by people who do.’

Raymond laughed. ‘Is that what worries you – guilt by association?’

Without warning, Paul’s manner changed in a flash. Having been relaxed and friendly, he suddenly became tense and hostile.

‘The Salvation Army uniform has always annoyed me,’ he complained.

‘It’s something I wear with great pride, Paul.’

‘But it gives the wrong impression.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘You put on a uniform in the name of peace. I put it on to kill people.’

‘We’re soldiers of the cross,’ said his uncle. ‘We fight a different battle.’

‘You should try fighting a real one. Nobody at the Somme was thinking about salvation. The only thing on our minds was survival.’

‘The two are closely linked.’

‘I don’t think so.’

Raymond tried appeasement. ‘Well, I don’t want to preach at you,’ he said, affably. ‘After all this time, you know where we stand as an organisation. I only called in to see how you were getting on.’

‘You were sent for,’ said Paul, resentfully. ‘You came to change my mind.’

‘I’d certainly like to change your mind about the Salvation Army.
We’re not skulking over here while the soldiers are at the front. We’ve set up canteens in France close to the trenches. You fought the enemy with bullets. Our ammunition is cups of tea and doughnuts. When British troops are half-dead with exhaustion, we help to revive them. We offer them physical and spiritual assistance and I won’t have anyone disparaging us when they don’t realise what we’re doing for the war effort.’

Paul was momentarily checked by his uncle’s passionate response. He then got to his feet, wagged his finger and spoke earnestly.

‘I want to see her, Uncle Raymond, and nobody can stop me.’

‘I couldn’t agree more.’

‘Colin was a good friend. He’d expect it of me.’

‘Of course he would.’

‘And, whatever you say, I still think the Salvation Army looks silly, dressing up in uniform and playing at being soldiers.’

‘Come and see us at the hostel. We might shatter a few illusions for you.’

‘No, thanks – I’ve got much better things to do.’

On that disagreeable note, he turned on his heel, stalked off to the door and let himself out. A couple of minutes later, Ellen entered with the tea on a tray.

She looked round. ‘Where’s Paul?’

‘He walked out on me.’

‘That was very rude of him.’

‘I didn’t take it personally, Ellen,’ he said with a tolerant smile. ‘For some reason, this uniform often upsets people. I didn’t realise that my nephew was one of them. But if you want my opinion,’ he went on, glancing upward, ‘it’s this. You’re right to be very concerned about Paul. He’s undergoing some sort of crisis.’

The news did not come entirely as a surprise to Odele Thompson. She’d heard rumours of a murder and, when she walked past the dance studio, she’d seen the notice pinned to the door. When the detectives called on her, therefore, they were only confirming what she’d feared. Her reaction was strange. Instead of being shocked like Catherine Wilder, or distraught like Audrey Pattinson, she thought only of herself.

‘That means I’ll miss the British Dance Championships.’

‘Mr Wilder will miss them as well,’ Marmion pointed out, ‘and his loss, if I may say so, is a great deal more serious than yours.’

‘We’ve worked so hard these past few months.’

‘That’s beside the point, Miss Thompson.’

‘And we had a good chance of winning. I feel so
cheated
.’

‘How do you think Mr Wilder feels?’ asked Keedy.

‘I find that remark in bad taste, Sergeant.’

Odele Thompson was a thin, animated woman in her late twenties with dark, curly hair, high cheekbones and darting eyes. She rented a flat in a large house in Wood Green. Everything about the room suggested that she lived there alone. On the mantelpiece and on every shelf was a framed photograph, mostly of her dancing on her own. Simon Wilder partnered her in the large photograph that hung on a wall. Also on the walls were framed theatre posters bearing her name. Marmion found her unattractive and self-centred, yet Keedy was struck by her brittle beauty. Neither of them could believe that they were dealing with someone who ought to feel bereaved. Odele seemed more irritated than heartbroken.

‘Who killed him?’ she asked.

‘We’re hoping that you might help us find the man,’ said Marmion.

‘What can I possibly do?’

‘Well, for a start, you can tell us about what happened yesterday. You and Mr Wilder had a practice session, I believe.’

‘That’s right, Inspector.’

‘What sort of a mood was he in?’

‘We were both optimistic. For once, everything went right. We danced like the Castles and never put a foot out of place.’

‘Have you ever
seen
the Castles dance?’

‘As a matter of fact, I have,’ she said, airily. ‘I was working in Paris when they came there a few years ago. What they did was amazing. They took the Café de Paris by storm – that’s where I saw them doing the famous Castle Walk. As for their foxtrot, it was a revelation.’

‘What time did you part company with Mr Wilder yesterday?’ asked Keedy.

‘It must have been well after five o’clock. When you have such a strenuous rehearsal, you need to get your breath back.’

‘And what happened when you parted?’

‘Simon went his way and so did I.’

‘Do you have any idea where he went?’

‘He said that he was going home first.’

‘And after that?’

‘You’ll have to ask Catherine.’

‘We already have,’ said Marmion. ‘She has no idea where he went.’

Odele smiled. ‘Simon did rather like to cover his tracks.’

‘Why was that, Miss Thompson?’

‘Are you married, Inspector?’

‘Yes, I am.’

‘Then you’ll know why men sometimes prefer to keep their wives in the dark.’

Marmion was nettled. ‘I’m always very honest with my wife.’

‘Honesty can be a dangerous thing, Inspector.’

‘Are you telling me that you’re
dishonest
?’

‘I live in the real world.’