Libby grinned reluctantly. ‘Sorry.’
The interior of the café was suddenly illuminated by blue flashing lights. Libby’s heart thumped and she stood up unsteadily.
Patti surreptitiously crossed herself and went to the door. ‘They’ve gone up the Manor drive,’ she reported. ‘And here comes Harry.’
Harry came into the restaurant looking white and sick.
‘They found him,’ he said, and sat down abruptly on the chair opposite the sofa.
‘Have some wine,’ said Libby, offering her own glass. Harry took it in a shaking hand and downed half of it. The three women looked at each other, not liking to ask the question.
‘Where?’ asked Libby eventually.
Harry let out a gusty sigh. ‘On the stage.’
‘The stage?’ echoed three voices.
‘It looked like an accident.’ He topped up the glass and realised Libby hadn’t got one. ‘Get another bottle and glass, Lib.’
‘I think I’ve had enough,’ said Libby. ‘Go on. The stage, you said?’
‘He’d fallen off a ladder. The scaffolding was still assembled in the scenery dock, and he’d just detached the main ladder. Silly sod. If he’d used the scaffolding, he wouldn’t have fallen.’
Anne held up a hand. ‘Scuse me, but what scaffolding? Have you been painting the outside?’
‘No, it’s stage scaffolding,’ said Libby. ‘It has different platforms and is used for reaching the lighting barrels, painting – all sorts of things. It all comes apart and can be assembled differently – like Meccano.’
Anne looked puzzled, but Patti nodded.
‘So he used a ladder and fell off it,’ said Libby. ‘Why?’
‘Ian guessed he was looking at the Kabuki.’
‘I explained that to you, didn’t I?’ Libby said to the other two, who nodded. ‘So it has nothing to do with the ransacked room?’
‘I don’t know. As soon as they – Ben and Ian, that was – found him, Ian shooed us off. He’d already called for assistance to check the bedroom and Pete and I diverted them up to the theatre. We’re to stay put for the time being.’
‘Where’s Peter now?’ asked Patti.
‘He went to tell them at the pub. They’ll have to seal the room off, now. Poor old Seb will have to bunk down somewhere else.’
Peter pushed the door open.
‘Ian had already sent the second police car to the pub, so they knew something was up.’ He sat down heavily. ‘None of them seemed to be able to take it in, though.’
‘What about Max?’ asked Libby.
‘He was still sitting on the stairs. I didn’t speak to him.’
‘What do we do now?’ asked Harry.
‘Stay here, I suppose,’ said Peter. ‘You could go home, girls.’
For once not commenting on his use of ‘girls’, Libby nodded. ‘You go, Patti, Anne. I’ll stay here with Hal and Pete for a bit.’
Looking relieved, Patti and Anne left.
‘Why do you think Ben’s still up at the theatre?’ Libby said, when Harry had closed the door behind them.
‘He’ll have to show them round, won’t he,’ said Peter. ‘I hope they’ve let him go across and tell Hetty.’
‘She’s not going to be happy, is she?’ said Harry.
‘No.’ Libby sighed. ‘I mean, we’ve had murders connected with the theatre before, but never actually in it. I suppose he was sure it was murder?’
‘Seemed to be, but I couldn’t really see. He wouldn’t let any of us go near the stage, not even Ben.’
Libby’s phone began to warble inside the large bag which had replaced her basket.
‘Ben,’ said Libby, looking at the screen.
‘Libby, it’s me. Listen, could you come up to the Manor and sit with Hetty? She came out to find out what was going on, and although she didn’t say much, you know her, I could see she was upset.’
‘Of course,’ said Libby. ‘We were just talking about that. I’m on my way.’
At the same time as Ben said, ‘Not on your own!’ Peter and Harry said together, ‘We’ll come with you.’
‘There,’ said Libby. ‘We’ll all come.’
‘Why did you say you’d come with me?’ asked Libby, as Harry locked the front door of the café.
‘Someone’s just been killed in the theatre, Lib,’ said Peter, taking her arm. ‘Who knows where the killer is now?’
‘Lurking in the bushes,’ said Harry, taking the other arm. ‘Waiting to pounce.’
‘Don’t be flippant,’ said Peter. ‘This is serious.’
‘We’re sure this is murder, then?’ said Libby again.
‘I’ve told you, we couldn’t see, but Ian was certainly treating it as murder.’
Libby shivered. ‘You know, I’ve never thought about it before, but it is a bit spooky walking up here in the dark.’
‘You’re hardly in the dark for long,’ said Peter. ‘Look, there’s the theatre – all lit up.’
‘And if you look back, you can see the lights from the high street,’ said Harry.
Libby looked nervously towards the theatre. ‘We don’t go in there, do we?’
‘No. Just into the house,’ said Peter. ‘Come on, here we are.’
They found Hetty sitting at the kitchen table with a mug of tea.
‘Right carry-on,’ she muttered.
‘Sorry, Hetty,’ said Libby helplessly.
‘Not your fault, gal.’
‘Makes a change,’ said Harry, sotto voce. Hetty glanced at him sharply.
‘Want tea?’ she asked. ‘Or something stronger?’
‘Tea would be fine,’ said Libby. ‘I’ll do it, shall I?’
‘You sit down,’ said Hetty, getting to her feet, and suddenly Libby realised how much older she looked.
They sat down and Hetty moved the big kettle on to the Aga hotplate.
‘What are they doing in there now?’ she asked.
‘Don’t know.’ Peter shook his head. ‘I think Ben’s having to stay there to show them how things work.’
Hetty shook her head and fetched three more mugs.
They sat in silence with their tea waiting and wondering what would happen. Eventually, Ben appeared, looking exhausted. Hetty immediately got up and fetched the whisky.
‘What happened?’ asked Libby, as he collapsed into a chair.
‘They’re taking the theatre apart, it seems to me.’ He shook his head and accepted a whisky from his mother. ‘Max won’t be able to go on at this rate. Or if he does, we’ll have to re-rig everything. He certainly can’t rehearse in the theatre for at least the rest of this week.’
‘So it is murder?’
‘Oh, yes. Ian and the doctor – pathologist, whoever he was – were quite certain. He had fallen from the tower and then been hit over the head.’ Ben looked sick. ‘Quite distinctive, apparently.’
‘So deliberately pushed from the tower?’ asked Peter.
‘I don’t know.’ Ben shook his head again. ‘I suppose so.’
‘Will they be there all night?’ asked Harry.
‘Probably. But Ian was going down to the pub to interview all the others. He said he’d let the dancers come back here when he’d finished with them, but I suspect it’ll be a long night.’
‘That’s all right,’ said Libby. ‘I’ll stay here to let them in.’
‘Don’t have to do that,’ said Hetty. ‘I don’t lock the door, and I’ll leave the hall light on. They’ll come in when they’re ready.’
‘I’m not leaving you here on your own,’ said Ben.
‘You don’t reckon any of them boys did it, do you?’ said Hetty scornfully. ‘Couldn’t hurt a mouse, they couldn’t.’
‘They’re very strong, Hetty,’ said Libby.
‘You do what you like then,’ said Hetty. ‘Help yourselves to whisky. I’m going to bed.’
The remaining four looked at each other when she’d gone.
‘You two go,’ said Ben. ‘No sense in us
all staying up. Lib and I will stay here until a few of them are back, then we’ll go.’
‘If you’re sure,’ said Peter.
‘Come on,’ said Harry. ‘I’ve got to get up in the morning, even if you haven’t, and I expect at some point someone will come to ask us questions, won’t they?’
‘Why us?’ Peter looked surprised.
‘To see if we heard any suspicious remarks when we were doing lunch.’
‘I doubt it,’ said Peter, ‘but I suppose Ian might find it worthwhile getting our impressions.’
They said goodnight and left Libby and Ben sitting at the kitchen table.
It was another half an hour before they heard voices and Ian himself came into the kitchen. He looked surprised to see them.
‘I thought you’d have gone home to bed!’
‘We didn’t want to leave Hetty in the house on her own,’ said Ben. ‘Under the circumstances.’
‘No, of course.’ He joined them at the table. ‘I’ve brought most of the dancers back here and we’ll finish questioning them in the morning. I’ve talked to Tobin, Long and Singleton, and again, they’ve been asked to be available in the morning.’
‘What about the bedroom?’ asked Libby.
‘Nothing so far. Now I’m going to ask you to go home, and I shall want to talk to you tomorrow to get your impressions of everyone. Please, Libby, do not start asking any questions of these people. Your job is finished.’
Chapter Twelve
‘What do think we ought to do?’ Libby said the following morning. ‘Stay here, or go to the Manor? We won’t be able to go to the theatre, will we?’
‘I think we ought to go to the Manor,’ said Ben. ‘If all those boys have got to stay cooped up there Hetty’s going to have to provide tea and coffee, so we ought to help.’
‘Do you think Ian will let Harry take lunch up there?’
‘I don’t see why not. It depends if he’s letting them go.’
‘What, back to London? I shouldn’t think so. They’re all suspects, aren’t they?’
‘Yes, I suppose so. Come on then. We’ll buy some extra biscuits on the way.’
Hetty had already wheeled the big urns into the sitting-room, where various young men lay draped disconsolately over the furniture. They greeted Ben and Libby with mildly hopeful expressions, then sank back into torpor. Libby emptied a packet of biscuits onto a plate and called out, ‘Help yourselves’, then rejoined Hetty in the kitchen.
‘That Ian’s been in,’ said Hetty. ‘He asked what we did about lunch and I told him Harry brought it. He said we could do the same today.’
‘I’ll call Harry then,’ said Ben. ‘Where’s he interviewing people?’
‘Theatre,’ said Hetty. ‘One by one.’
‘How grim,’ said Libby.
At just about twelve thirty, when Harry was due to appear with the lunch, Ian came into the kitchen.
‘Can I talk to you two, now?’ he said.
‘Ben’s in the office, shall we go in there?’ asked Libby. ‘And do you want coffee? You look shattered.’
He smiled grimly. ‘I am rather, and yes, coffee would be great.’
‘Go along then,’ said Hetty gruffly. ‘I’ll bring it.’
‘She’s nice, your mother-in-law,’ commented Ian as he followed Libby along the passage.
‘Mother-in-law-elect,’ said Libby. ‘Not a real one.’
She let Ian have the most comfortable chair and perched herself on the old bentwood chair by the window. Ben’s estate office hadn’t changed at all since she’d known it, and probably not since his father took over.
‘I just want to go over a few things you told me last night before we knew there was murder involved,’ said Ian. ‘Can you repeat the sequence of events from when Tobin first told you about the incidents in London?’
Libby patiently and obediently – she was getting used to police investigations – began the story from when Sir Andrew had turned up at the pub and asked for their help.
‘Of course, he asked for Fran’s help, too. I think Max was quite impressed by Fran.’
‘And has Fran had any insights about the case?’ asked Ian, smiling gratefully as Hetty brought in coffee on a tray.
‘No – oh, except when she said that the incidents here were by a different person.’
‘From the one in London?’
‘Yes. It was just one of those things she knew, apparently. She has no idea why.’
‘Is she coming over today?’
‘I’ve told her about last night on the phone, but she didn’t say she was coming. Why?’
‘Because it might be interesting to see if she came up with the same theory about the murder.’
‘If she thought the Kabuki incident was by someone different – surely it’s the same person,’ said Ben.
‘We might be meant to think so,’ said Ian. ‘Anyway, go on, Libby.’
Libby continued her story up to and including the night out with Jonathan and Tom. ‘And that’s about it,’ she concluded. ‘And you know what we were doing last night.’
Ian’s chin remained sunk on his chest. Libby looked uneasily at Ben.
‘Looks as though you were right,’ said Ben eventually.
Ian sat up. ‘Yes, it does.’ He stirred his coffee thoughtfully.
‘What made you think it was serious?’ asked Libby cautiously.
He looked across at her and smiled. ‘I won’t bite, Libby. I’m just rather annoyed that Tobin chose not to confide in the police. This could have been avoided, I’m sure.’
‘How?’
‘By finding out what Willis was hiding.’ Ian stood up. ‘I’d better go and have another word with young Sebastian Long.’
‘Willis was hiding?’ repeated Libby. ‘Why would you think that?’
‘There was an attempt made on him, even if it wasn’t meant to kill. And his mutterings about further attempts to kill him sound very like a warning to me.’
‘They do?’ Libby looked astonished.
‘If the attempt with the Kabuki curtain was intended to warn Willis, which it looks as if it was, then Willis’s mutterings were intended to counter-threaten the perpetrator.’
‘You mean, “try it again and I’ll tell all”?’ said Ben.
‘Something like that.’ Ian frowned. ‘I’m not sure, of course, but we’ve got to find out.’ He went to the door.
‘Can the boys go out?’ asked Libby. ‘Or are they confined to barracks? They’ve got nothing to do, after all.’
‘I don’t want them going back to London, but as long as they stay in the area and let us know where they’re going they can go out, yes.’
‘Will you tell them?’
‘I’ll tell one of the officers on duty to let them know.’ Ian gave them a quick smile and left.
‘Why did you ask that?’ said Ben, as they went back towards the kitchen.
‘I thought some of them might want to go out,’ said Libby. ‘I could take a couple of them – oh, I don’t know – to Canterbury?’
‘Where’s the bus Stan came down in? Couldn’t they go out in that?’
‘Oh, yes! It’s parked round the back, isn’t it?’ Libby fished out her phone. ‘I’m just going to fill Fran in, then we’ll go and ask them if they want to go anywhere.’
‘Count me out,’ said Ben. ‘I’m going to have to sort out whether or not we open next week. I shall go and see if Max is free.
Libby wandered out into the courtyard and watched white suited FOs plodding in and out of the theatre doors like heavy-footed ghosts. Fran answered the phone on the second ring, and Libby gave her a quick résumé of the morning’s events.
‘Ian wanted to know if you still thought the incidents in London and the attacks down here were made by different people?’
‘I don’t know that I’ve thought about it,’ said Fran with caution. ‘I would assume though, that the attack with the knife and the – ah – death of Stan were done by the same person, wouldn’t y
ou?’
‘Ian meant, had you had any specific feelings about it.’
‘I know what he meant,’ said Fran irritably. ‘How many times do I have to tell you I can’t do this to order?’
‘Wasn’t me, it was him,’ said Libby defensively. ‘Anyway, I’m going to offer to take some of them out for a bit if they want. Ian says I can. Do you want to come?’
‘Where, though? They aren’t going to feel like a pleasure trip.’
‘I don’t know. I’ll go and ask. I thought we could take their bus. You know, the one they came down in.’
‘You ask them and let me know,’ said Fran.
Feeling slightly deflated, Libby went back into the big sitting-room. Some of the dancers who were there looked up without much interest. Jonathan sat in a corner with a book and gave her a small smile.
‘I wondered if anyone wanted to go out anywhere,’ Libby said. ‘You’ve got Ian’s permission.’
‘Who?’
‘Oh, sorry, Detective Chief Inspector Connell. He’s the policeman who was with us last night. A friend.’
‘Oh. That’s how he was there so quickly.’ Jonathan was eyeing her suspiciously.
‘Well, yes. He was having a drink with us in the pub, he usually does on Wednesdays. And Max told him about all the incidents, so …’
‘And were you and your friend Fran reporting everything we said to you the other evening?’ Jonathan was now looking positively hostile.
‘No!’ Libby was shocked. ‘Max wanted Fran and I to look into the incidents, I told you. And he didn’t want the police to be involved. We can hardly be blamed for meeting a friend for a drink in our local, can we?’
‘It just seems rather coincidental, that’s all.’ Jonathan was now looking sulky rather than hostile.
‘I daresay it does if you’ve got either a suspicious mind or a guilty conscience.’ Libby shrugged. ‘I’ll leave you to it.’
‘Wait, Libby.’ Jonathan stood up and put a hand on her arm. ‘I’m sorry. It’s such a surreal situation. None of us know what to think.’
‘And I know even less than you do,’ said Libby.
‘I know. I’m sorry.’ Jonathan looked down at his feet.
‘So, do you think anyone wants to go out? I thought you might want to get away from the theatre for a bit. You could take the company bus, couldn’t you?’
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