Murder Dancing (30 page)

‘And you think that's why he's disappeared?'

‘Or
been
disappeared,' said Libby.

‘In that case we'd better call Ian,' said Ben, fishing his mobile out of his pocket.

‘Oh, must we?' groaned Libby.

‘If you think something's happened to him, in the light of Paddy and Max's attacks, we haven't got a choice. I'll call his work mobile first.'

Ben left a message on voicemail. ‘I won't call his personal one, just in case. Has anyone looked in the lighting box?'

‘Yes, Max went up there.'

‘I'll go and check. Remember what happened last time?'

‘Oh, the equipment being damaged? But Damian was here then. It was nothing to do with –'

‘It was an attempt to stop the production, wasn't it? I'm going up. Will you wait down here?'

‘I'll open the bar,' said Libby.

The dancers reappeared from the auditorium.

‘No sign,' said Jonathan.

Phillip looked grim, Tom and Will worried.

‘This is bloody awful,' said Phillip. ‘Damian was right. We should have stopped the fucking show. Another one! Stan, Max, Paddy – and now –'

Ben came down the spiral staircase.

‘Nothing's been disturbed up there. But Ian just called.' He looked puzzled.

‘And – what?' asked Libby.

‘He said that we weren't to worry.' Ben looked at the anxious faces around him. ‘Then he asked if the show could go on without Damian.'

‘It did yesterday,' said Libby. ‘The score's programmed in, now, and Peter started it off. Damian didn't come into the box.'

‘Not worry?' Alan frowned. ‘Does that mean they've found him?'

‘I don't know. I asked him what he meant, and he just said leave it to them. He'd call later.'

‘It sounds,' said Libby, ‘as if they've found him somewhere. Hurt, perhaps.'

‘Left for dead like Paddy,' said Jonathan.

‘And if your policeman said not to worry, perhaps he's been able to tell them who did it?' suggested Will.

‘Mmm.' Libby stared at her feet for a minute. ‘Well, whatever's happened, if Ian said not to worry, we won't worry. It sounds as if he thinks the problems are over, doesn't it?'

Max, who had been sitting at one of the tables with his head in his hands saying nothing, looked up.

‘That's it! We won't worry. I have great faith in your policeman. We'll just get on and do the best we can for Damian's music.'

The other dancers were filtering in now, and Peter followed them in. When they had all been told the current position, the lightening of the atmosphere was noticeable, Libby thought, as she went over to the bar to open up. She didn't have to act as barman tonight, but she needed something to do.

Ian's words had made her think, and as she bottled up the bar from the store behind, decanted ice into buckets and fetched lemons from the fridge, she went back through all the events of the last two weeks. Ben found her scowling at the sink.

‘What's up?' He took a can of soda water from the fridge. ‘Stop worrying. If Ian says we can, we can.'

‘I know, I know. I've just been thinking things through.'

‘And?'

‘I think we got it all wrong.'

Ben frowned. ‘How do you mean?'

Libby shook her head. ‘I'm not sure I've got it right, and every time we speculate it turns out to be wrong anyway, so I'm not saying anything. I haven't fitted all the pieces together yet.'

‘Look, Lib. Leave it to Ian. He said he'll call later, and we'll probably get the whole story then.' He patted her shoulder.

‘We might.' Libby regarded her beloved seriously. ‘And then again, we might not.'

Ben smiled in loving exasperation. ‘Have it your own way. I'm off to harry young Sebastian.'

Libby handed over to her bar staff and went up to join Peter in the lighting box. He regarded her quizzically.

‘Come on, old trout, what's up?'

‘Nothing. Ben just told me to leave it to Ian, and of course we have to, but I can't help thinking about it all.'

‘Of course.' Peter patted her shoulder exactly as Ben had done and Libby scowled at him.

‘Don't patronise.'

Peter looked amused. ‘OK. And don't scowl.'

Libby smiled reluctantly. ‘I'll just sit over here and keep quiet.'

They watched the audience filling the auditorium, recognising a few regular patrons, including the former Chief Inspector Murray and his wife, but seeing far more unfamiliar faces.

‘A whole new crowd,' murmured Peter. ‘Wonder if we'll keep them?'

‘I don't think they're local,' said Libby. ‘Except the dance schools. And we haven't got one here. They'll come from Canterbury and Nethergate.'

‘Maybe we'll recruit some dancers, then.'

‘I'm not having any child dancers,' said Libby. ‘They require chaperones who have to have police checks and all sorts. Nightmare. And we couldn't afford it.'

‘Pity,' said Peter. ‘Kids bring in the crowds.'

‘Obviously, so does ballet.'

‘Dance theatre, dear,' said Peter. ‘Remember what Max said.'

Eventually, front of house notified Peter and Ben everyone was in, and the performance started.

Again, there was a slight difference in the performance. Libby thought they all seemed more relaxed, even little Paul, and Phillip, as Alizon Davies, was positively ebullient. When casting the spell on the pedlar John Law he was unpleasantly seductive, and actually raised a laugh from the audience.

At the interval, Libby asked Ben if Ian had called, but he hadn't. She fretted about the foyer getting in everybody's way, until Max told her to go back to the lighting box and stay there.

By the time the curtain had come down – virtually – and the company had taken multiple bows, which seemed to be the norm for ballet and dance theatre, she was in a fever of impatience, with a hard knot of apprehension in her solar plexus.

‘Yes, he called.' Ben met her, smiling, at the bottom of the spiral staircase. ‘He's coming over, and says can we keep everybody here, or over in the sitting-room. Do you think he's going to make an arrest?'

‘No.' Libby shook her head. ‘He wouldn't do that in public.'

‘No, I suppose not. I'd better go and tell Max.'

Ian had arrived before the audience had finally drifted out, and signalled to Libby that he would be in the Manor. Eventually they were clear, and Libby shepherded everyone over to the big sitting-room. She fetched Ian from the kitchen, where he was sitting comfortably with Hetty, whom he also invited into the sitting-room.

‘You've had as much to do with this lot as anyone else,' he said. ‘Why not come and hear all about it?'

The buzz in the sitting-room quieted as Libby preceded Ian into the room.

Max spoke first.

‘Have you found Damian?'

‘Yes, we have.' Ian smiled at him and a sigh went up from the whole room.

‘And was he able to tell you …?'

Ian looked round the room. ‘Yes, we have the murderer in custody.'

Gasps and exclamations gradually died down, until Owen said, ‘But who is it? We're all here.'

Into a tense silence, Libby spoke.

‘Except Damian.'

Chapter Thirty-three

The shocked silence held for a moment, then exploded, until Ian held up his hand.

‘She's quite right, I'm afraid. It is Damian Singleton.'

‘
Damian
?' Max sounded shell-shocked. ‘But why? He's such a mild boy. And he seemed the most frightened of us all.'

‘He had every reason to be, didn't he?' said Ian. ‘As to why –'

‘The music,' Libby butted in. Ian turned to her with raised eyebrows.

‘Indeed it was. What made you suspect that?'

‘The sound equipment was damaged and at one point he was trying to refuse to let them use the music.'

‘I don't understand,' said Max. ‘We workshopped it all together. The choreography and the score.'

‘Not the finished score,' said Libby. She turned to Ian. ‘Has he told you?'

‘Oh, yes. He's scared stiff. None of this came easily to him.'

‘So – what?' asked Jonathan. ‘What about the music?'

‘Libby?' said Ian, with a smile. ‘Any theories?'

‘Only one. Could the music have been written by someone else?' She turned to Max and Owen, standing close together. ‘Your friend Sergio, for instance?'

There was another collective gasp and Ian nodded approvingly.

‘Spot on. What made Damian run last night was he found out that Sergio was coming to see the performance on Saturday.'

‘The letter!' Max suddenly shouted. Everyone looked at him in surprise. ‘That's why I went into the box that night. Sergio's letter. He was asking how I liked the piece he'd sent over, and I didn't know what he meant. So I went to the box to see if … well, I suppose I began to suspect Damian then. Did he come in after me?'

‘He did. If only you'd remembered what it was you went there for, we'd have got him a lot earlier. But he didn't know Sergio was coming. Paddy told him that the night before, and the students confirmed it yesterday, apparently. He hadn't known until then. So he ran.'

‘Where did he go?' asked Ben. ‘How did you find him?'

‘We had someone watching the pub. He was followed.'

‘Watching the –' Max shook his head.

‘And the Manor, of course. Sadly only after Wednesday, or we might have found him a lot earlier.'

‘But how –?'

‘Why –?'

‘When did he –?'

The questions were coming thick and fast.

‘Not now,' said Ian. ‘I'll be able to tell you a lot more later, but meanwhile, enjoy your last night tomorrow dancing to Sergio Padista's music.'

Libby and Ben followed him out into the hall.

‘Thank you, Ian, that was nice of you to drive all the way out here,' said Libby.

‘I had to collect something from his room, anyway,' said Ian. ‘The original score that Sergio had sent Max a year ago.'

‘How would Max have not recognised it, then?' asked Ben.

‘He never saw it,' said Ian. ‘Oh, yes it's all come pouring out, now. And the fact that he actually saw Stan Willis putting the cockerel in Tom Matthews' locker in London and threatened to tell Max. He says he was actually going to, but Stan countered by knowing about the music. Stan was a snoop, apparently, and poked his nose in everywhere. He found the score and recognised it and that was that.'

Ian opened the door. ‘I'll tell you as much as I can when I can. Meanwhile go and calm those boys down.'

Fran and Guy, with Sophie, arrived in time for an early dinner the following evening with Ben and Libby.

‘So it was Damian all along. Nothing to do with witches or black magic,' said Fran, sipping a glass of Sancerre.

‘Not in Damian's case, although it was in Stan's,' said Libby, placing an enormous bowl of chilli on the table. ‘And, of course, young Paul's. He was a member of a witch cult, as we thought he might be, not a religious cult. He was terribly muddled about it, but even so, he had nothing to do with the incidents in London or the attacks down here. Stan, though, was, as we thought, completely against the whole witchcraft thing after his father's involvement with the fake Medmenham movement. Damian was scathing about Stan, Ian said. He blamed him for not facing up to his sexuality and for hating his father, yet using him.'

‘Using him?' asked Guy.

‘Yes, to get people off young Sebastian's back after he got into trouble over drugs,' said Ben. ‘They kept tabs on each other, Stan and Wally Willis.'

‘So what about the rat?' asked Fran.

‘And the knife in the curtain?' said Guy.

‘That was Damian. Max forgot to tell us he'd lent keys to Damian to “pop back” to the theatre on Sunday evening.' Libby shook her head. ‘He completely fooled us, yet Ian said each attack was completely unplanned and panic-driven.'

‘What was the reason for Max's attack?' asked Guy.

‘Damian had got paranoid by this time, and was expecting to be found out and exposed all the time. When Max went to the theatre on Sunday and up into the box he was sure he'd found something. So he followed him in, hit him over the head and damaged the equipment, hoping they wouldn't be able to use the music.' Libby poured herself more Merlot.

‘But I thought Sebastian had breakfast with Damian that morning?' said Fran.

‘Damian was already there, and left almost as soon as Max had gone. That was one of the things Seb was hiding. He'd begun to suspect Damian. Why he didn't say anything, heaven knows. I suppose he was scared,' said Ben.

‘And as far as Paddy was concerned,' said Libby, ‘they were talking in the interval on Wednesday – I saw them. Paddy told him Sergio had been supposed to come down with him and commented how like Sergio's compositions the score was. That was enough for Damian. Complete panic again. How he lured Paddy outside we'll never know.'

‘Cigarette?' suggested Sophie.

‘I don't think either of them smoked, but maybe,' said Libby. ‘Anyway, again it was a spur of the moment thing.'

‘And by Thursday night he was in a complete funk,' Ben went on. ‘If Paddy came round he'd identify him, unlike Max who never saw him, and on Saturday Sergio would identify the score. So he ran.'

‘Where did he run to?' asked Fran.

‘The bus stop on the Canterbury road.' Ben looked amused. ‘He was apparently going to curl up in the shelter until the first bus came. He thought no one would notice he'd gone.'

‘But Ian was already suspicious of him, and the officer set to watch the pub called it in and followed. A patrol car came and collected them and that was that.'