Murder Dancing

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Murder Dancing Page 12

by Lesley Cookman


  She showed Damian where the sound system was and Sebastian where the limited range of lighting was.

  ‘Not that you’ll need that for your practising,’ she said. ‘But best to know where ’tis. All right now, Miss Libby? I’ll be getting along then.’ And she disappeared through the double doors.

  ‘Is she for real?’ asked Damian, wide-eyed.

  ‘I thought they only existed in films,’ said Sebastian, and they exchanged looks of youthful disbelief.

  ‘Yeah – black and white Sunday afternoon ones,’ said Damian, and they both dissolved into helpless giggles. It was Sebastian who caught sight of Libby’s face, nudged Damian and disappeared smartly behind the curtains on the small stage. Damian retreated to the sound system with a weak smile and Libby sighed. Sometimes she didn’t understand the younger generation.

  One by one the dancers strolled in and pulled chairs from the stacks round the walls. They collapsed on them in their usual boneless way and muttered to one another. Sebastian returned from behind the curtains.

  ‘The stage is far too small. It’s just for a couple of musicians, not a pack of dancers.’

  ‘Max didn’t intend you to use the stage,’ said Libby. ‘This is a sprung dance floor.’

  ‘Oh.’ Sebastian looked doubtfully at the polished floor. ‘I suppose it’s no worse than our rehearsal rooms.’

  ‘That is not very gracious, Sebastian.’ Libby glared at him.

  He went pink. ‘Sorry. I don’t think I’m reacting to anything normally.’

  ‘Shock, I expect,’ said Libby. ‘I mean, even if you didn’t like him, he was a big part of your life.’

  Sebastian looked surprised. ‘I didn’t say I didn’t like him.’

  ‘Yes, you did.’ Libby sat down on the edge of the stage. ‘Has DCI Connell spoken to you about how Stan rescued you?’

  ‘Rescued … Oh. Yes. Did you tell him about that?’

  ‘I mentioned it. But I didn’t know what it was all about, did I? So I couldn’t tell him much.’

  Sebastian shrugged. ‘There wasn’t much to tell.’

  ‘But you said – implied – that he more or less had you in thrall. You were living with him.’

  Sebastian was going pink again. ‘Yes, well…’

  ‘Seb, why are you embarrassed about it? Particularly in this world.’

  Sebastian let out a long breath. ‘Because you – everyone – assumes I’m gay. And I’m not. Stan was, but he hated it.’

  Libby was wide-eyed. ‘That’s what you were going to say earlier. He couldn’t stand them – the dancers. Weren’t you?’

  ‘Oh, hell.’ Sebastian sank down beside her. ‘Yes. He was weird, you know. He could be kind, but on his terms. When I was at college he was one of the guest lecturers. Just at that time I’d got myself into trouble because – well, it was drugs. And I couldn’t pay. I was suspended from college and Stan found out. I still don’t know how he did it, but the next thing I knew was the dealers had stopped chasing me and I moved into Stan’s flat. For protection, he said. It’s a lovely flat. I suppose I’ll have to move now.’

  ‘I suppose you will,’ said Libby, amused. ‘Are you clean now?’

  ‘Oh, yes. I was never really hooked – I just got out of my depth. And thanks to Stan I got into theatre even without having my degree, so he did me an awful lot of good.’

  ‘So you stayed because you were grateful? And he never made a pass at you.’

  ‘Well – he did, but in a sort of agonised way, if you know what I mean. As far as I can tell he was brought up in an aggressively masculine household, and his male relatives were all as homophobic as anything. I think he was very ashamed of his sexuality.’

  ‘Did he ever talk about his family? Did you meet any of them?’

  Sebastian shook his head. ‘Only mentioned them in passing. As far as I could tell he didn’t see them.’

  Libby thought about this. ‘Did you know his father appears to have been a well-known criminal?’

  ‘A what?’ Sebastian’s mouth dropped open.

  ‘We think so. Chap called Wally Willis.’

  ‘Bloody hell.’ Sebastian passed a hand across his face.

  ‘It fits, you know,’ said Libby. ‘He would have been intimidated by his father and his father’s friends, so wouldn’t dare come out.’ Which was rather a leap, as none of them knew Stan and Wally Willis’s relationship for sure.

  Sebastian nodded. ‘That needs some thinking about.’ He slid off the stage, then turned back to Libby. ‘Do you think that’s how he stopped the dealers coming after me?’

  ‘Could be,’ said Libby, annoyed with herself for not spotting that. Sebastian nodded and walked off to greet Max, who had just arrived with Jonathan and Tom.

  Max called them all to order and proposed warm-up in five minutes. They all unblushingly stripped off, and Libby, used to communal dressing rooms, found herself unable to keep her eyes off the splendid physiques displayed around her. She made her way round the edge of the room to Max’s side.

  ‘Anything in particular you want me to do?’

  ‘If you could stay by Seb here and carry any message to Damian. If we need to stop or go back, it’ll be easier if you nip round there than having to shout across the boys.’

  ‘OK.’ Libby sat down next to Sebastian, who looked at her sideways but didn’t speak. Max ran a ten minute warm up, then called for beginners. Just like the real theatre, thought Libby, and immediately castigated herself.

  She was only required to take messages to Damian three times, when Max stopped the dance and she had to tell Damian where to go back to. There was no more opportunity for conversation. After an hour, Max called a break and, remembering what Amy had said, Libby hurried into the kitchen and switched on the kettle. As it was, few of the dancers wanted tea or coffee as most had brought the ubiquitous bottle of water. One of those who did, however, was Dan Washburn, the blond giant dancing Roger Nowell.

  ‘This is very kind of you,’ he said, accepting a thick white mug. ‘Must be a pretty grim time for you.’

  Libby nearly said, ‘We’re used to it’, but stopped herself just in time.

  ‘Worse for you all, though. Looks as if Max is going ahead.’

  ‘Yes.’ Dan looked uncomfortable. ‘Some of us think we shouldn’t. We ought to pack it in and go home.’

  ‘Do you? Oh, of course, you have a new baby, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes, but it’s not that. It seems disrespectful, somehow. I mean, I didn’t always get on with Stan – not many of us did – but he’s dead, isn’t he? And it seems it’s something to do with the production, so how can we carry on?’

  ‘I see what you mean,’ said Libby, who honestly did. ‘It just seems a shame to waste all the hard work.’

  ‘Oh, well, we’d be dancing something even if it wasn’t this,’ said Dan. ‘Even if it was only everyday practice.’

  ‘Hard on Damian, though.’

  ‘Why?’ Dan looked surprised. ‘He could re-name the work, couldn’t he? In fact, we could turn the whole thing into something else. Something that wasn’t to do with witches.’

  ‘Do you think that’s what the problem is, then?’ asked Libby. ‘Witches? Someone objects to the portrayal of witches?’

  ‘After all that stuff in London …’ Dan trailed off. ‘My wife’s a Wiccan, you see.’

  ‘Oh!’ Now it was Libby’s turn to be surprised. ‘Does she object?’

  ‘She doesn’t like it much. Thinks it glorifies Black Magic.’

  ‘But –’ Libby, about to say it was all hooey and always had been, stopped.

  ‘Yes, I know,’ said Dan with a rather sad smile. ‘Silly, isn’t it. But dead cockerels are pretty horrible, not silly. And murder is even worse.’

  Chapter Sixteen

  After washing up the few mugs used by the company, Libby decided she’d done her bit and went home, texting Ben to tell him where she’d gone. Once home, she made herself a proper cup of tea, as she told Sidney, and phoned Fra
n.

  ‘So there we are,’ she concluded. ‘Do you think I should report any of this to Ian, or will he accuse me of interfering?’

  ‘He’ll try,’ said Fran, sounding amused, ‘but you haven’t been, have you? You’ve merely been playing your part as a sort of hostess and talking to the guests. In any case, I should tell Ian, especially about Dan’s wife being a Wiccan.’

  ‘Why especially that? She’s hardly likely to have popped down here, parked the newborn infant and pushed Stan off a tower.’

  ‘No, but it adds a new dimension to the story, doesn’t it? And who knows that Dan doesn’t agree with her?’

  ‘Oh, I don’t see that at all,’ said Libby. ‘He’s the one who didn’t want to come down here in the first place.’

  ‘But that could be interpreted as trying to get the production stopped,’ reasoned Fran. ‘He might have thought the cockerel was the end of it, and when Max said they were coming down here to carry on, he tried to stop it by refusing to come.’

  ‘But he didn’t refuse, he came. And he’s such a gentle giant.’

  ‘“Murderers I have known,”’ said Fran. ‘Think about it.’

  ‘I haven’t liked most of them,’ protested Libby.

  ‘Just because you like Dan doesn’t preclude him from being a murderer.’

  Libby sighed. ‘No, I know. So I tell Ian everything. I wish he had an email address. It would be much easier to send him an email than tell him, especially if I have to leave a voicemail.’

  ‘You could text him.’

  ‘It would take hours! I haven’t got lightning thumbs like the kids have.’

  ‘You could always go up to the theatre and tell him. He seems to have established a sort of incident room up there.’

  ‘Has he?’

  ‘He rang me from there a little while ago.’

  ‘He what? Why didn’t you tell me?’ said Libby indignantly.

  ‘I’m telling you now.’ Fran was now definitely amused. ‘He wanted, rather diffidently, to know if I’d had any what he called “thoughts” about Stan’s death.’

  ‘Oh. I bet he hated asking.’

  ‘I think he did. But I told him I didn’t know Stan or anyone else well enough.’

  ‘That hasn’t stopped you in the past.’

  ‘I know, but I’ve told you before, I think that part of my brain, or whatever it is, has been dying off. Look how long it’s been since I had any, well, feelings.’

  ‘Three days ago,’ said Libby promptly. ‘When you told Jonathan, Tom and me that it was a different person who did all the stuff in London to the person who fixed up the Kabuki curtain.’

  ‘Oh.’ Fran was silent for a moment. ‘But that was nothing, really.’

  ‘It was quite significant. That’s why Ian’s asking you now.’

  ‘I suppose so,’ said Fran reluctantly. ‘Anyway, I think you ought to tell him all about your little chats. Won’t Harry be taking lunch up for the troops soon? You could go and snaffle a sandwich.’

  ‘Max might have asked him to take the food to Carpenter’s. Easier, really, it’s just across the road.’

  ‘True. Well, go up anyway. Hetty might give you lunch.’

  ‘I’m not always thinking of my stomach, you know.’

  ‘Not all the time, no.’

  ‘Fran!’

  Fran was laughing. ‘Oh, go on with you! You know I’m teasing.’

  ‘All right. I’ll go up, but I was hoping to spend the rest of today in the conservatory.’

  ‘Painting? Guy will be pleased!’

  ‘Hmm,’ said Libby uncrossing her fingers. ‘I’ll call you later and tell you what Ian says.’

  After sending Ben another text saying she was now coming up to the theatre, she threw her latest cape round her shoulders, tossed her phone into her bag and left the cottage, tripping over Sidney on the way out.

  The weather had been dry for the last couple of days, so the track from the top of Allhallow’s Lane across the Manor farm fields wouldn’t be too muddy, and Libby decided to go that way. It had the benefit of being away from the high street and Maltby Close, so neither the dancers nor Harry would see her if they did happen to be going to the Manor for lunch. Sidney, as usual, appeared from behind the row of cottages and trotted along beside her as far as the stile, then sat down for a wash.

  She passed the row of rebuilt Hoppers’ Huts and headed down towards the back of the theatre. As she got nearer, Ben appeared from the front.

  ‘Thought you might come this way,’ he said, ‘so I came to meet you. Ian’s in my office interrogating.’

  ‘Interrogating who? The company are all in Carpenter’s.’

  Ben grinned. ‘Flo and Lenny. He wanted to ask them about Stan’s father.’

  ‘Oh, he’s definitely his father, then? Now, why would he want to do that? He’s got all the resources of the Force to find out about Wally Willis. By the way, Seb didn’t know about him.’

  ‘I think he wanted to know what the public view of him was, and if they knew anything about his family.’

  ‘Has he decided it’s something to do with his father, then?’ said Libby. ‘Doesn’t seem very likely.’

  ‘He didn’t actually confide in me, Lib.’ Ben grinned at her and tucked her arm through his. ‘Come on, let’s go and see what Mum’s got for lunch.’

  ‘You shouldn’t let her cook for you every day. You get fed at home.’

  ‘I can’t stop her. And Harry’s taking lunch over to Carpenter’s today, so there’s no freebie food.’

  ‘I came up to see Ian. I might miss him if we go into the kitchen.’

  ‘Then go and knock on the door and tell him. He’s not likely to be cross about being interrupted with Flo and Lenny.’

  Libby followed her knock on the office door by sticking her head round it.

  ‘When you’ve finished, could I have a word, Ian?’

  He stood up. ‘You can have one now. We’d finished, hadn’t we, Flo? Lenny?’

  ‘Yeah. Just ’avin’ a chat, we was.’ Flo creaked to her feet and she and Lenny went out into the passage. ‘See you in the kitchen, gal.’

  ‘What was it, Libby?’ Ian sat down again. ‘I hope Ben doesn’t mind me appropriating his desk.’

  ‘’Course he doesn’t.’ Libby sat in the chair Flo had vacated. ‘I just wanted to tell you a couple of things I picked up this morning.’

  She repeated the story of Sebastian’s drug problems, and Stan’s unwillingness to come out, including her theory that he’d used his father’s contacts to get the pressure off Sebastian.

  ‘And finally,’ she said, ‘it turns out Dan Washburn’s wife is a Wiccan and isn’t overly keen on the ballet.’

  Ian blinked. ‘Is that relevant?’

  ‘Well, she might not want it to go ahead. He might have tried to stop the performance by sabotage while they were still in London.’

  ‘He could have simply pulled out, surely?’ said Ian.

  ‘Perhaps there were reasons why he couldn’t do that. Money, for instance.’

  ‘Perhaps, but I really think that’s one of the slenderest motives you could come up with.’

  ‘It is a bit contrived,’ conceded Libby.

  ‘However, there might be something in the drugs story.’ Ian stared thoughtfully at the empty mug on the desk.

  ‘Fran thought I should tell you.’

  Ian lifted his head and smiled. He still fancies her, thought Libby. After all this time.

  ‘Did she tell you I was trying to bully her into having one of her moments?’

  ‘Sort of.’ Libby grinned back. ‘She says she hardly ever gets them these days. Anyway, your bosses wouldn’t like you consulting a witchy woman.’

  ‘I may have been grumbled at in the past, but they leave me alone these days.’

  ‘Now you’ve reached your exalted rank?’

  ‘Something like that. Now I’m going down to Flo’s hall to harry the dancers.’

  ‘They’ll be having their lunch
.’

  ‘Then I won’t be disturbing them, will I?’

  ‘Why don’t you send an underling?’

  ‘I shall be taking an underling with me, don’t worry.’ Ian stood up and came round the desk. Libby caught a whiff of tantalising male cologne and wondered again why he hadn’t been snapped up long ago.

  I suppose, she thought, following him out of the room, he works too hard to concentrate on relationships. Or maybe he was married in the past and won’t risk it again?

  ‘He was ready to risk a relationship with Fran though, wasn’t he?’ said Ben, when she put this to him.

  ‘But he might only have seen that as a passing fancy,’ said Libby. ‘Except he still seems very fond of her.’

  ‘He’s very fond of you, too,’ said Ben. ‘That doesn’t mean anything.’

  ‘Soup?’ asked Hetty.

  Libby called Fran when she got back to Allhallow’s Lane.

  ‘He was interested about Stan and Seb and the drugs business,’ she reported, ‘but very dismissive about Dan’s Wiccan wife.’

  ‘Hmm.’ Fran was quiet for a moment. ‘It does seem unlikely.’

  ‘But you said especially to tell him about that.’

  ‘I know. It seemed important. But maybe I got it wrong.’

  ‘Not exactly a moment, then?’

  ‘No … but there was something.’

  ‘Then you ought to tell Ian. He was saying today he was hoping for something from you, and you said you don’t get them any more.’

  ‘They aren’t as definite as they used to be. But yes, I’ll tell him, although I shall feel a complete fool if there’s nothing to it.’

  ‘Suppose,’ said Libby slowly, ‘that there was something there, but not the obvious connection. Not Dan’s wife, say.’

  ‘But Wicca itself, perhaps? Yes, that’s possible. But still unlikely. Wicca is supposed to be a very gentle, peaceful religion, isn’t it?’

  ‘I can’t say I know much about it. They believe in the Earth Goddess, don’t they?’

  ‘I think there’s a bit of confusion about Gods and Goddesses,’ said Fran. ‘I shall look into it. Anyway, I’ll send Ian a quick text saying something ambivalent and leave it to him.’

 

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