Murder Dancing (17 page)

‘All of them?'

‘No, those two Max was talking about.'

‘How do I separate them from the others?'

‘I expect they tend to stick together. Isn't that what Max said?'

‘I could try. But Paul might be sticking to them, too.'

‘He doesn't seem to have done so yet, despite what Max told you. He went with you to Grey Betty, didn't he?'

‘Yes.' Libby picked up the bowl of broccoli and the bottle of wine and carried them into the sitting-room.

‘Now stop talking about murder and investigations while we eat,' said Guy, taking his place at the table. ‘I don't want my salmon ruined.'

After dinner, the men cleared the table while Libby and Fran settled before the huge fireplace.

‘Go on,' said Fran, as Guy hovered by the kitchen door. ‘You know you're dying to go to the pub.'

‘And you're dying to talk about murder,' said Ben with a grin. ‘See you later.'

‘Much more comfortable,' said Libby, with a sigh of relief as the front door closed.

‘Poor men,' said Fran.

‘Not a bit of it. It's a treat for them.' Libby reached for the current wine bottle. ‘And we can speculate to our heart's content.'

‘You mean you can.'

‘All right, I can. But you can insert sensible caveats.'

‘The most sensible of which would be stay out of it, but I don't see that being popular.'

‘We were asked in,' said Libby. ‘And Max came to me today. I'd feel I was letting him down if I backed away.'

‘How many times have we had this sort of conversation,' sighed Fran. ‘Pass the bottle.'

‘So, go on. What should I say to Jeremy and Bernie?'

‘What do they normally do at this time of year, which pantomimes have they done, is the discipline very different, how many of the company had they met before.'

Libby nodded. ‘Makes sense. And just play it by ear after that?'

‘You'll have to. They won't have read the script.'

‘Why don't you come back with me?'

‘Guy's closed tomorrow – it wouldn't be fair. I'll come up on Monday. And meanwhile, I've had another thought.'

‘What?' Libby sat up straight.

‘What about those other two who left. The original Demdike, was it?'

‘Yes, and Chattox. I can't remember their names but I can find out.'

‘They were frightened off, weren't they? Would they be angry that the production they helped to form was going on without them?'

Libby shrugged. ‘They had the choice, didn't they? They can't really complain.'

‘But perhaps they thought it should be cancelled and would be if they left. They might feel that they'd been forced out.'

‘Maybe. I suppose I could ask a few more questions.'

‘But don't get up Ian's nose. I'm sure he'll have asked about them, too.'

‘He went to London today. Perhaps that's what he's doing.'

‘There'll be a lot to do at the London end. That's where the whole thing started, after all, and where the company's based.'

They were quiet for a moment, both staring into the fire.

‘Do you know, I'm actually surprised Ian's letting them open at all,' said Libby.

‘So am I, but he didn't want to let them go back to London, did he? So it was an excuse to keep them here.'

‘You mean he might pull it at the last minute?'

Fran nodded. ‘Suppose he finds one of the dancers is guilty? He'd have to then.'

‘Not if it was a minor character. They could probably still do it …'

‘I don't mean from their point of view. I mean from his.'

‘Oh.' Libby thought about it. ‘I don't really see why.'

‘Immaterial at the moment, anyway. We'll have to see what happens.'

‘It's been kept very low-profile in the media. Once it gets out we'll have all sorts of journalists and photographers crowding up the drive.'

‘Max isn't very famous,' said Fran. ‘It shouldn't be too bad. Not as if they've got someone in the cast – do you say “cast” for ballets? – who's an international star.'

‘No,' said Libby, thinking back to last Christmas's concert, which
had
featured an international star.

‘Meanwhile, I suppose you just keep on keeping on, don't you?' said Fran. ‘I hope you're getting paid for all this.'

‘Oh, yes. Max, Ben and Hetty thrashed out a deal between them, and Harry struck his own about the lunches. Flo's donating use of Carpenter's for nothing.'

‘Must be costing a lot.'

‘Yes. I don't know how much, but think what he's got to lose if
Pendle
doesn't go ahead.'

‘He won't make much out of a few days' run in Steeple Martin.'

‘No, but if it goes well it's booked into a London theatre. You know that.'

‘Oh, yes.' Fran smiled. ‘I remember. “Off Broadway”.'

‘Yes.' Libby smiled back. ‘I do hope everything's all right. I've got quite fond of them.'

‘Even your little wasp?'

‘Yes, even him. The only one I really can't take to is Paul.'

‘The strange one who's into folklore and you want to talk to the others about?'

‘Yes. Gives me the creeps.'

‘Well, if he gets thrown out of pantos I'm not surprised.'

Libby shrugged. ‘Oh, well. Maybe I'll find out tomorrow.'

‘One thing I'm surprised about,' said Fran, looking curiously at her friend. ‘Why aren't you more alarmed by all this? The rat, the attack with the Kabuki and now an actual murder. In your own theatre.'

Libby looked surprised. ‘I don't know. It doesn't make sense, does it. I should be scared, shouldn't I?'

‘Certainly nervous,' said Fran. ‘But you seem remarkably calm.'

‘Well, so are you.'

‘But I'm not closely involved. Don't you worry that whatever is going on, someone might try something with you? Or with Hetty? All the dancers are staying with her.'

‘Oh, God,' groaned Libby, ‘don't say that! Now I'll have to move into the Manor for the duration.'

Fran was amused. ‘Talk it over with Ben. Perhaps he can camp out in his office.'

On Sunday morning, Ben and Libby took Fran and Guy out for breakfast at Mavis's Blue Anchor cafe at the end of Harbour Street.

‘It always feels decadent, going out for breakfast,' said Libby. ‘The younger generation seem to do it all the time.'

‘If they bother to get up at all,' said Guy.

‘I wonder if the dancers bother to get up on their days off?' said Fran. ‘Sophie doesn't.' Guy's daughter Sophie lived above the gallery and shop.

‘Are you actually closing today, then?' asked Ben.

‘Yes. Once we're into November I'll have to open for at least half the day, but I thought I'd take this one and next off. So we're coming up to see the show next Saturday.'

‘And stay overnight? Good idea,' said Libby. ‘So we can return the compliment.'

‘Meanwhile, we'd better get back and see if there are any developments,' said Ben. ‘I know Max wanted the boys to have some time off today, and we don't want them plaguing the life out of Mum.'

‘That's true,' said Libby. ‘They do seem to be treating her like a universal Aunt.'

In fact, when they arrived back at number seventeen, it was to find a deputation of dancers on the doorstep.

‘What's wrong?' Libby stumbled out of the Range Rover.

‘We can't get into the theatre,' said Will Davies.

‘You're not allowed into the theatre,' said Ben, following Libby.

‘But Max is in there,' said Phillip.

‘How do you know that?' asked Libby.

‘He told us that was where he was going earlier. We thought he wanted us to go to the hall to rehearse, and he said not just yet, he had to go to the theatre.' Dan Washburn looked round at the others, who nodded in confirmation.

‘And then he didn't come back, so we followed him,' said Phillip. ‘And we couldn't get in.'

Ben got back into the Range Rover, followed by Libby.

‘Don't worry,' he called out of the window. ‘We'll go and see.'

‘Oh, God,' muttered Libby. ‘What's happened now?'

Chapter Eighteen

‘The most likely thing,' said Ben, as he bumped the Range Rover over the rutted track across the Manor land, ‘is that he went in and got locked in because he didn't know about the self-locking mechanism on the main doors.'

‘But I thought the police were there?' said Libby, hanging on to the grab bar.

‘Obviously they aren't. Ian may have sent an all clear.'

They drew up outside the theatre and Ben unlocked the back door.

‘Hello!' he called out, and switched the lights on in the scenery dock.

Libby went to switch on the worker lights and auditorium lights from the prompt corner. There was no sign of Max.

‘Check the dressing rooms,' said Ben. ‘I'll go up to the control box.'

Libby, dreading what she might find, went to check the dressing rooms. They were empty of everything but make up and costumes.

‘Found him!' Ben's shout echoed through the building. Libby ran across the stage and up through the auditorium to the spiral staircase leading to the sound and lighting box. Arriving, breathless, at the top, she found Ben with a very sorry-looking Max, who was sitting in one of the swivel chairs with his head in his hands. Libby breathed a sigh of relief.

‘What happened?'

‘He said he came in here to find something and before he knew what was happening something hit him over the head and that was that. I've called Ian and an ambulance.'

‘Don't want an ambulance,' mumbled Max.

‘Look, mate,' said Ben, ‘when the same thing happened to me a couple of years ago, I said I didn't either. But they made me go, and I'm glad I did. Do you want anyone to go with you?'

‘There's someone at the door,' said Libby. ‘I'll go and open up.'

Outside she found a huddled group of dancers and a police patrol car. The dancers looked frightened, the policeman bored.

‘DCI Connell reported an incident,' he said, shouldering through the dancers, who now looked affronted.

‘Yes, come in officer.' Libby stood back for him to pass her. ‘Up those stairs.' She turned to the dancers. ‘Nothing to worry about. You go back to the Manor and we'll come and see you in a bit.'

‘What about Max?' asked Jonathan.

‘He's had an accident, but he'll be perfectly all right. They're going to take him to hospital just to be on the safe side.'

The dancers had gone back to looking frightened and muttered among themselves.

‘Go on,' urged Libby. ‘I'll tell you more when I can.'

They moved off towards the Manor and, after a moment, Libby followed.

‘Hetty,' she said, dashing into the kitchen, ‘the boys have all come back here – Max has had an accident. Can you rustle up some coffee for them?'

Hetty, with her usual admirable restraint, simply nodded. Libby dashed back out again. As she got to the theatre doors, she heard the ambulance coming up the drive, and waited for the paramedics. After showing them where to go, she sat down at one of the little tables in the foyer and waited for her heartbeat to slow down.

‘He doesn't want anyone to go with him,' Ben said, coming down the staircase, ‘But someone should. I'll go. Will you come and get us – or just me if they decide to keep him in?'

‘Of course, but wouldn't it be better if I just followed the ambulance?'

‘Think of the parking charges at the hospital,' said Ben with a grin. ‘Besides, we don't want both of us to miss Hetty's Sunday lunch.'

‘We'll just miss the wine,' said Libby. ‘I'll go and tell her.'

At the door she met an irritated-looking Ian.

‘What's the matter with this place? All these bangs on the head. Where is he?'

‘Sound box. There's an officer with him.'

Ian didn't reply, merely took the spiral staircase two at a time to add to the crowd inside the box.

Ben reappeared.

‘Ian says not to go with him. He's going to follow the ambulance, so he'll make sure everything's all right.'

‘So has he said any more?'

‘No. He can't even remember what he wanted, or why he went up to the sound box. I mean, there's nothing up there – not even the sound track. Damian's got that to use in the hall.'

‘Perhaps he wanted to have a look at the lighting plot.'

‘He wouldn't understand it even if he knew how our computer system worked,' said Ben. ‘He's not exactly technically minded.'

‘Do we know how he got in?'

‘Oh, he has a key. It's more a question of how whoever hit him got in.'

‘And were they allowed back in today?'

‘Apparently, yes. One of the officers gave Max the all clear when they left yesterday evening.'

‘But only Max had a key?'

‘Yes. He asked Hetty this morning if she knew when we would be back, and of course she didn't know, so we assume he decided to come over on his own. Look, they're coming down.'

The paramedics were gingerly bringing Max down the spiral stairs on what looked like a folding chair, followed by Ian and the uniformed patrol officer.

‘I think they'll keep him in,' said Ian, stopping by their table. ‘He's a bit dazed and doesn't seem to know what happened. He's lucky it wasn't worse.'

‘Do you know what hit him?' asked Libby. ‘It couldn't have been an accident?'

‘No. There's nothing up there that could have done it, and nothing with any traces of blood. We'll know more when a doctor's seen him. Meanwhile, I'll get the team back in.' He sighed. ‘What a disaster. Why didn't he wait for you to come back?'