Murder Dancing (20 page)

‘Well …' He frowned down at his plate. ‘To tell you the truth I'm beginning to think we ought to call it off.'

‘Oh! Why? Everyone's worked so hard.
You've
worked hard. It's your first proper score, isn't it?'

‘But look at the misery it's caused. All the stuff in London and now Stan murdered and Max attacked. I tell you, it's jinxed.'

He looked so unhappy Libby was compelled to put an arm round his shoulders and give him a quick hug.

‘Don't say that too loudly – you know how superstitious theatricals are. Actors, dancers, musicians – well,
you
obviously are.'

He gave her another weak smile. ‘Poor old Stan was, too.'

‘Stan?' Libby's voice rose. ‘He was the last one to be superstitious I would have thought. He seemed so down to earth.'

‘Hard as nails, I bet you thought? Well, he was, in a lot of ways. But show him a black cat or a magpie and he spat venom.'

‘Did he? Then he must have been particularly upset by all that mischief in London.'

Damian's face was a picture. ‘Oh, he was.'

‘Oh?' prompted Libby, when he didn't say any more.

‘He thought the show should come off,' said Damian eventually with a sigh.

‘But he carried on working on it, didn't he?'

‘He's a salaried employee, isn't he? Or was,' Damian corrected himself.

‘I suppose so,' said Libby. ‘I'd better leave you to get on with your lunch.'

She wandered over to where Ben was deep in conversation with Peter. Harry was again at the centre of an admiring group of dancers.

‘Did we know Stan thought the show should come off before they came down here?' Libby butted in to the conversation.

Ben's brow wrinkled.

‘Did we? Can't remember.'

‘I think it was mentioned,' said Peter. ‘I'm sure you said something about it.'

Owen appeared behind Peter's back.

‘Libby, Max has asked if you could possibly go down and see him this afternoon.'

‘Yes, of course. Any particular reason?'

‘He said he wanted to talk everything through. I think he's worried.'

Chapter Twenty-one

Max was sitting in an armchair in front of the window overlooking the high street. His head was bandaged and he looked pale – and unshaven. Quite unlike the Max Libby was used to.

‘Don't get up,' she said, going over and dropping a kiss on the unbandaged part of his head. ‘Are you sure you're up to this?'

‘Of course I am.' He put out a hand and Libby took it. ‘I'm so grateful to you for everything, Libby. Especially for finding me.'

‘Don't be silly.' Libby squeezed his hand and let it go. ‘And it was Ben who actually found you.'

‘I know.' Max sighed. ‘We've been nothing but a nuisance to you ever since we arrived, have we?'

‘Nonsense. You've added a bit of excitement to our lives.'

‘I thought you had more than enough of that, according to Andrew.'

‘Occasionally.' Libby grinned. ‘No one would believe us if we were in a book.'

‘Anyway, it can't be pleasant actually having murder on the premises. But what I wanted to say was, do you think I should pull it now?'

‘Pull it?' Libby stared in astonishment. ‘Of course not. If the police have given you permission to carry on, why should you? Everyone's put so much into the show.'

‘But think what's happened. All the incidents in London, then the rat, the knife in the curtain and – Stan.'

‘And you. And the sound equipment,' added Libby. ‘But you're still OK, more or less, and Ben and Peter have sorted the sound.'

‘I know, Owen told me. But don't you see, all this is designed to stop the show. And I think that's what we should do.'

‘Then whoever it is has won,' said Libby. ‘And we might never know who killed Stan and attacked you.'

‘I'm not sure I care any more. I just don't want anybody else put at risk. Tell me, what are the boys saying? Owen didn't really get anything from them yesterday.'

‘Well,' said Libby carefully, ‘they all seemed very pleased this morning. It went terribly well.'

‘Even the curtain?'

‘We – I mean they – didn't use it.'

Max nodded. ‘What I meant was, have any of them said they thought we shouldn't go on?'

Libby sent him an assessing look. ‘Dan didn't think you should when I spoke to him the other day. Or at least, he said his wife didn't. Did you know she was Wiccan?'

‘No!' Max looked taken aback. ‘I wonder why he didn't say?'

‘Now, why do you think? However, he's staying. He didn't even go back to London for the night on Saturday. As for the others, I don't know. Damian, perhaps. He seems very thrown by it all.'

‘Scared, do you think?'

‘Definitely. Given half a chance he'd be hot-footing it back to London with his tail between his legs.'

‘Are none of the others scared?'

‘I think so, but they aren't actually saying so.' Libby looked down at her hands. ‘And you still can't remember what happened yesterday?'

‘No.'

‘How about we go through the events leading up to it and see if anything strikes you?'

Max frowned. ‘From when?'

‘Why don't we start from the day before? Your phone call with Owen, for instance.'

‘I don't see what that's got to do with anything.'

‘You were going to the theatre for something. Therefore, something must have triggered that. The only thing different from your routine down here was the phone call. So what did you talk about?'

‘God, I don't know.' Max shifted in his chair impatiently. ‘Just, you know, how are you? Any problems, that sort of thing.'

‘Owen asked if he should bring your mail down.'

‘There was no need. It was mostly business stuff that could wait.'

‘And a letter from a friend in Italy.'

‘Oh, Sergio, yes. But that was just a letter from a friend – addressed to both of us.'

‘Nice to get an actual letter,' said Libby. ‘I was saying to Owen, I hardly get any these days. It's all social media or email.'

‘Yes.' Max smiled. ‘Sergio's a bit old-fashioned. He lives in the wilds with no mobile reception and no Wi-Fi, so all his communications are by letter.'

‘How does he manage?' asked Libby. ‘Doesn't he need a computer for work?'

‘No. When he needs to he goes to Perugia.'

‘Where's Perugia?' asked Libby.

‘Capital of Umbria. Lovely place.'

‘Oh, Anne and Patti – remember them? – they went to Umbria a couple of years ago on a painting holiday. They said it was beautiful. Anyway, that doesn't get us any further, does it?'

‘No. And that was it, really. We talked about Owen coming down here, getting the dog looked after and shutting the school for the week. That was it.'

‘Nothing there, then. And nothing happened on Saturday evening?'

‘No. I went to bed quite early.' He frowned. ‘There was something …'

‘Something happened?'

‘No, something I thought of. And I thought about it in the morning. But I don't know what it was.'

‘You went off to the theatre early. Seb and Damian said you'd finished breakfast by the time they came down.'

‘Yes.' Max was still frowning. ‘I was in a hurry.'

‘Well it's a start,' said Libby. ‘If you've remembered you thought of something and you were in a hurry, you might remember what the thing was. Or is.'

‘I suppose I might.' Max sighed and leant his head back against the chair. ‘But I'm still not sure we shouldn't pull it.'

‘How about if I go back and ask Owen to take a straw poll? And if we check with the police? If they all said to go ahead with it, would you feel happier?'

‘I might,' said Max with a tired smile. ‘It's worth a try.'

Libby stood up. ‘I'll get back, then. Is there anything you want before I go?'

Max started to shake his head and winced. ‘Must remember not to do that. No thanks, Libby. I can ring room service if I want anything.'

‘Oh, do they have room service? I didn't think they did.'

‘I think it's just for me, under the circumstances,' said Max with another faint grin. ‘I suspect your policeman sorted it out.'

‘He's good at that,' said Libby. ‘Right, I'm off. I'll let you know what I find out.'

She walked back to the theatre thinking hard. Max was no help at all, and might well decide to pull the production whatever the general consensus of opinion was. She could understand that, of course; when you took all the incidents, threats and attacks together it could seem madness to continue and simpler all round to pack up and return to London. After Fran's query on Saturday night, she was actually beginning to feel slightly scared herself.

When she arrived back at the theatre she saw Ian's car parked outside.

‘Hello,' she said, finding him in the foyer about to go up the spiral staircase. ‘They're mid-rehearsal, you know.'

‘I need to have a look at this ruined equipment.' He paused, looking down at her with irritation stamped clearly on his features.

‘Can't it wait until they break? And I don't think it's completely ruined, actually. Ben will know.'

‘Where's he?'

‘Backstage, I expect.' Libby looked at her watch. ‘I don't expect they'll be very long. They were only doing Act Two this afternoon.'

Ian came back down the stairs. ‘What's happening, then?'

Libby looked at him thoughtfully. ‘Well, Max is in two minds about going ahead. He wants to know who in the company would prefer to stop. I said I'd find out and ask you – or the police, anyway – what they thought.'

‘I've told him he can go ahead,' said Ian, looking even more irritated. ‘What more does he want?'

‘You don't think that could be tempting fate?'

A gleam came into Ian's eyes.

‘Ah!' said Libby. ‘That's what you want to happen! But suppose someone else is hurt?'

‘We're taking precautions,' said Ian obliquely. ‘And I could address the whole company about not taking risks.'

‘When they finish here,' said Libby, ‘I'm going to ask Owen to canvass the company about their thoughts. You could do it then.'

Ian uttered a grunt which could be interpreted as agreement and followed her into the auditorium.

As Libby had thought, the company had just arrived at the final tableau. She went up to Owen and told him what Max had said and indicated Ian, standing frowning at the back. Owen nodded, clapped his hands and went up to the stage.

‘Listen, everyone. Max is concerned that there may be some among you who feel that under the circumstances this production ought to be pulled. I have to tell you, we have the permission of the police to go ahead, and DCI Connell is here to have a few words, too. So what do you all think?'

The dancers all looked at one another. No one said anything. Then Damian called down from the FX box.

‘I think we ought to pull it. There have been too many incidents.'

A ripple of murmurings went through the company.

‘It went so well today, though,' said Tom. ‘Owen was pleased, weren't you?'

‘I was,' said Owen. ‘Shall we ask DCI Connell what he thinks?'

Libby watched as Ian came to the front and stood looking up at the dancers.

‘If you carry on,' he said, ‘it will be sensible to take precautions. Don't go anywhere alone, check dressing rooms and bedrooms carefully and Ben, I'm sure, will be checking backstage with Sebastian to make sure everything is safe there. There will be a police presence here all the time until you leave, but you might not know it.'

‘You mean there's someone here already?' asked Dan.

Ian smiled grimly. ‘It seemed sensible after Max was allowed home yesterday.'

‘How come the equipment got damaged then?' asked someone.

‘That was done when Max was attacked. We should have had someone here then. We know better now.'

‘There's been a lot of hard work put into this production,' said Owen, ‘and to put it crudely, a lot of money spent. If the majority want to pull it, fair enough, but as long as the police think there's minimal risk, I think we should go ahead.'

‘A patrol car will be driving by at intervals throughout the night,' said Ian, ‘and further security measures will be taken.'

‘But we know someone can get into the theatre,' said Jonathan. ‘Someone got in to rig the rat and the Kabuki and someone got in to attack Stan and Max. So there's someone here who has a set of keys. How can we stop them coming in at night again?'

‘I don't think that's the problem,' said Ian.

Ben appeared diffidently on the side of the stage. ‘We are taking extra security measures,' he said, ‘but as Ian says, we don't think that's the problem.'

There were more mutterings. Even Libby was puzzled.

‘You are due to open on Wednesday, I believe,' said Ian. ‘You haven't much time to decide. I leave it to you. Now I'm going up to take a look at the sound equipment. If anyone has any private concerns, they can come and see me up there.' He disappeared through the auditorium doors.

The dancers went into a huddle on the stage, where Sebastian joined them. Ben came down and joined Libby.

‘What extra security measures?' she whispered. ‘And why don't you think it's a problem?'

‘Hasn't it occurred to you that the burglar alarms have never gone off? I know we sometimes forget to set them, we've already talked about this, but not once has an alarm gone off. Ian's pretty sure, and so am I now, that whoever is doing this is not getting in on their own.'

‘What?' gasped Libby. ‘You mean there's an accomplice?'