Murder Dancing

Murder Dancing

Lesley Cookman

Max Tobin brings his all-male dance company to Steeple Martin, with his new ballet
Pendle
, based on the infamous Pendle Witch Trials, due to be performed at the Oast Theatre. There have been unpleasant incidents during rehearsals in London, and Max asks Libby Sarjeant and her friend Fran Wolfe to look into them. To everyone's surprise, the incidents continue at the Oast and their seriousness escalates until, inevitably, someone is murdered.

While the police look into the murder, Libby and Fran wonder why someone seemed so set against the ballet. Were occult forces at work, or was there a more worldly, personal motive?

Acknowledgements

The first acknowledgement I have to make is a sad one.
Murder Dancing
was inspired by Matthew Bourne's ballet company, New Adventures, and in particular Jonathan Ollivier, whom I saw dance The Swan in 2014. Sadly, not long after starting this book, Jonathan was killed in a motorbike accident, aged only 38.

To more cheerful things – I apologise to the Police Forces of Great Britain for using and abusing them, as usual. They would never hold an investigation like this, and if I could get away without the police, I would. However, I have learnt that there are many readers who are secretly in love with DCI Connell, so perhaps I shall leave them in.

Unusually, the idea for this book did not come from my son Miles. The next one, however…

As always, thanks to my patient editor, Greg Rees.

WHO'S WHO IN THE LIBBY SARJEANT SERIES

Tobin Dance Theatre (TDT to its friends)

Cast of
Pendle

CONTENTS

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-one

Chapter Twenty-two

Chapter Twenty-three

Chapter Twenty-four

Chapter Twenty-five

Chapter Twenty-six

Chapter Twenty-seven

Chapter Twenty-eight

Chapter Twenty-nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-one

Chapter Thirty-two

Chapter Thirty-three

Lesley Cookman

Shadows and Sins

Other Accent Press Titles

Chapter One

‘The Pendle Witches?' said Libby Sarjeant. ‘A ballet?'

‘Sounds interesting,' said Fran Wolfe. ‘But played by men?'

Sir Andrew McColl, dapper in a tweed suit and highly polished brown brogues, sat back in his armchair and crossed one elegant leg over the other.

‘The Witches in
Macbeth
have often been played by men,' he said. ‘And this is called “Dance Theatre”, rather than ballet.'

‘And you're talking to us why?' asked Fran.

‘Max – the director – has been having some … er … trouble during rehearsal.' Andrew looked at his nails.

Libby scowled suspiciously. ‘I said I'm never getting involved again.'

Andrew raised innocent eyebrows. ‘Did I ask you to?'

‘You were going to,' said Fran, amused.

‘Yes, well.' Andrew returned to his nails.

Ben Wilde, Libby's significant other, sighed and got to his feet. ‘Another drink, anyone?'

The pub was quiet on this weekday lunchtime. Andrew had arrived, out of the blue as he often did, booked into the pub and then asked if he could meet Libby, Ben and Fran for a drink.

‘Tonic water, thank you, Ben,' said Andrew.

‘Coffee, please,' said Fran, who was driving.

‘A half, please,' said Libby, who wasn't.

‘Will you come back for dinner tonight, Fran? You and Guy?' asked Andrew. ‘I've booked a table at Harry's for eight thirty.'

‘How can I resist,' said Fran with a smile. ‘I haven't eaten at the Pink Geranium for weeks.'

‘Bribery,' said Libby, with another scowl.

‘So,' said Ben, arriving back at the table with a tray of drinks. ‘What is it this Max wants? And who exactly is he?'

‘Max Tobin. He's the founder and choreographer of the company. They're only small, so far, but they're gaining a good reputation.'

‘And what problems has he been having?' asked Fran.

‘He's not sure what the reason is, but he's had two of his principal danseurs leave and the others seem very jumpy. None of them will explain it.'

‘Danseurs? Is that a posh way of saying “dancers”?' asked Libby.

‘Male dancers,' said Fran. ‘Put simply.'

‘Ah. And they're uncomfortable about something?'

‘That's what Max says.' Andrew uncrossed his legs. ‘I was telling him about what led up to our concert last Christmas – he was in the audience, you see. And then he told me.'

‘And,' said Ben again, ‘what does he want?'

‘Libby and Fran to look into it,' said Andrew, and took a sip of tonic water.

Fran and Libby looked at each other.

‘And how exactly are we supposed to do that?' asked Libby. ‘If they won't talk to their boss, they certainly won't talk to a couple of middle-aged amateur sleuths.'

‘I said you wouldn't want to,' said Andrew. ‘And you don't want to go trailing up to London to the rehearsal rooms.'

‘Not particularly,' said Libby.

‘So he had another idea.'

They all looked at him suspiciously.

‘Well,' said Libby after a moment. ‘What?'

‘He'd like to hire the theatre for a trial run.'

Libby sat back in her chair, surprised.

‘Good God,' said Ben.

‘Well, it's logical,' said Fran.

Andrew smiled. ‘Yes, it is. Then you'd be among them. They'd talk to you.'

‘Would they?' Libby looked dubious.

‘They're a small company. If you'd let them the rooms in the Manor, Ben, it would work very well.' Andrew finished his tonic water and stood up. ‘I'll leave you to think it over and see you tonight at Harry's.'

‘What do we think?' asked Libby, when Andrew had left the bar.

‘It would depend when they want to come,' said Ben. ‘We don't want to run into panto time.'

‘And we've got a few one-nighters,' said Libby.

‘What about the end of October?' asked Fran. ‘That would coincide with Halloween, just right for Pendle Witches.'

‘Bloody witches again,' said Libby. ‘I've had enough of witches.'

‘They're only fake witches, though, Lib,' said Ben. ‘And Fran's right. As long as they don't want to come for too long we could do the last couple of weeks of October and the first in November. I'm assuming he wants to rehearse down here as well.'

‘Well, we could hardly get them to talk to us if all they were doing was performing, could we?' said Libby. ‘Do you think Hetty will mind having them at the Manor?'

‘Of course she won't, but I'm not letting her supply them with food. They can forage for themselves.'

‘I expect Harry will put on special arrangements for them,' said Fran. ‘He'll love having a pack of male dancers tittuping around.'

‘True.' Libby finished her half pint of lager and stood up. ‘Now I'm going home to read up on the Pendle Witches. I saved all the information we found before.'

Libby and Fran had become entangled with local groups of witches before. In both cases the so-called rites were little more than a cover for unsavoury activities.

‘I'll go home and toss up with Guy who's going to drive tonight,' said Fran.

‘Stay over,' said Libby. ‘You can always get up early to get back and open the shop.'

‘Right,' said Ben. ‘I'm going up to the estate office. I'll check the theatre bookings and text Andrew some dates. Then he can get on to his friend Max before we meet this evening.'

At eight o'clock, Libby, Ben, Fran and Guy opened the door of The Pink Geranium, the restaurant owned by Harry Price and Peter Parker, and run by Harry as
chef patron
. Libby's son Adam, doing duty as a waiter, met them in his long Victorian apron and showed them into the left-hand window where Andrew awaited them on the deep sofa, accompanied, to their surprise, by a very tall man in a very sharp suit.

Andrew rose gracefully and took Libby's hand.

‘This is Max, my dear,' he said.