‘You couldn’t,’ said Libby dubiously.
Damian and Sebastian arrived together, neither looking overjoyed at the prospect of another performance.
‘Cheer up, boys,’ said Libby. ‘First night’s over and you all know what you’re doing.’
‘I’ve never had anything to do with the students before,’ grumbled Sebastian. ‘Boisterous, aren’t they?’
‘You won’t have to have anything to do with them, though, unless you’re driving back to the station,’ said Libby.
‘I’ll come with you,’ said Damian. ‘Then you won’t have to drive back on your own.’
Sebastian looked at him in surprise. ‘Really? Thanks – much appreciated.’
‘Also,’ added Damian going faintly pink, ‘to be fair, I don’t think any of us should be on our own for any longer than necessary at the moment.’
Sebastian grinned. ‘You’ll be safe with me!’
‘Quite honestly,’ Max said quietly to Libby, ‘if they had voted to pull out this morning I would have been almost relieved. I shall need a month off after this.’
The performance went as well as the previous one, if not slightly better. Libby had two members of the Oast Theatre’s company manning the bar, so was free to watch, which she did, cramming into the lighting box with Peter.
‘No Damian?’ she whispered.
‘He said he’d sit this one out. He’s around somewhere. All I have to do is start it off.’ Peter adjusted his head phones and moved a couple of sliders on the control panel. ‘Here we go.’
At the interval, Libby found Damian with Max and Owen surrounded by the students.
‘Sound OK?’ she mouthed at him, and received a thumbs up in return.
‘He’s cheered up, thank goodness,’ said Owen as he went back into the auditorium. ‘I was quite worried about him.’
‘Yes, he did seem as if he might break down,’ agreed Libby. ‘But better now.’
Libby waited in the foyer after the performance to greet Patti and Anne and watched Damian and Sebastian, like reluctant sheepdogs, shepherding the little crowd of students out of the building.
‘It was terrific,’ said Anne, as she wheeled her chair over to Libby. ‘So atmospheric. I wish I could go to more ballet.’
‘We always go to The Marlowe for the Northern Ballet,’ said Patti.
‘Oh, I know, and they’re wheelchair-friendly, too, but I still wish I could see more. Where’s Max Tobin? Can I speak to him?’ Anne looked round eagerly.
‘You’ve seen him in the pub,’ said Patti, amused at her friend’s enthusiasm. She looked at Libby. ‘Real fangirl, isn’t she?’
Leaving Patti and Anne with Max, Libby went over to where Owen was talking to a few of the company.
‘How did the students like it?’
‘Loved it,’ said Owen with a grin. ‘Made a lot of suggestions as to how they would have done it, of course, but they actually asked if they could perform it next year.’
‘Will they be able to?’
‘Yes, unless the company is touring it. After all, you never know, it might take off in a big way.’
‘It deserves to,’ said Alan.
It was nearly eleven o’clock before Libby and Ben were able to lock the theatre and walk home.
‘No accidents tonight,’ said Libby. ‘And only two more to go.’ She shuddered. ‘I’m beginning to look over my shoulder all the time. I seem to be in a perpetual state of nervousness. But surely, that’ll be the end of it?’
Ben tucked her arm into his. ‘Don’t tempt fate,’ he said.
Chapter Thirty-two
Friday was a bit of an anti-climax. There was nothing to do in the theatre, no police to talk to, no questions to ask or be answered. Libby, feeling distinctly unsettled, decided to take herself off to Nethergate.
Fran was relieving Guy in the shop, so Libby sat on the big customer chair and kept her company.
‘So everyone’s quite happy now?’ said Fran. ‘No more tantrums, alarums or excursions?’
‘Looks like it. Young Paul’s still against it all, and I can’t make up my mind about him, but I don’t think he’s guilty of anything but being a bit of a pain. Damian’s nervous, doesn’t want to be alone anywhere, but everyone else seems fine. Whatever the answer is, everything seems to be fine now. And when Paddy comes out of his medically induced coma we might get some answers.’
‘And if Max could remember what he went into the lighting box for,’ said Fran.
‘Oh, yes. And Paddy might not remember, either.’ Libby gazed unseeingly at a large painting of what looked like a malformed egg. ‘I just want to forget about it all.’
‘No, you don’t,’ said Fran shrewdly. ‘You can’t wait to find out what it was all about.’
‘It doesn’t look as though I will, though, does it?’ Libby sighed. ‘Do you fancy a sandwich from Mavis? I’ll go and get them.’
‘Good idea. I’ll ask Guy what he wants.’ Fran got up and went through to the studio, and Sophie appeared from the flat upstairs.
Libby was blown along Harbour Street to Mavis’s Blue Anchor cafe and battled against the wind on the way back with a basket full of sandwiches, which the four of them ate together in the shop.
‘That was really nice,’ said Libby, licking her fingers and collecting up sandwich paper. ‘Having lived and breathed dancers for the last couple of weeks it made a nice change to be normal.’
‘Glad we provided respite,’ said Guy. ‘I’m looking forward to seeing it tomorrow.’
‘Me, too,’ said Sophie. ‘All those lovely bodies.’
‘They don’t look very lovely,’ said Libby. ‘They’re either ghoulish witches or forbidding seventeenth century men.’
‘I don’t care,’ said Sophie. ‘I shall meet some of them afterwards, won’t I?’
‘If you’re staying for the after-show party, yes,’ said Libby. ‘Are you?’
‘Yes, please.’ Sophie looked down at her lap and Fran winked.
‘Are you staying with us?’ Libby asked her.
‘Ben said so,’ said Guy.
‘So …’ Libby indicated Sophie, who still wasn’t looking.
‘Adam,’ mouthed Fran.
‘Ah.’ Libby grinned. Adam and Sophie had been a couple for some time, but had broken it off. It seemed as though it was on again.
‘Well, I’ll get off and make sure nothing’s gone wrong while I’ve been away. I’ll see you tomorrow.’
Steeple Martin was just turning its lights on when Libby got back. She made tea and prepared supper, then sat down to wait for Ben. It was always the same when there was a performance in the evening, whether her own or one at which she was working, the whole day seemed to be holding its breath until the time to go.
It was, therefore, earlier than usual when she made her way up the Manor drive with Ben’s keys. She’d barely opened the doors when Max arrived at her shoulder.
‘Is Damian here?’ he asked.
‘I’ve no idea,’ said Libby. ‘I’ve only just got here. Did he have keys?’
‘No, I’m sure he didn’t.’
‘Isn’t he at the pub?’
‘No. He isn’t in with the boys, either.’ Max shoved a hand through his hair. ‘I can’t believe it.’
Libby’s stomach had swooped again.
‘This,’ she said shakily, ‘is ridiculous. Come in and start looking, just in case. I’ll call Ben.’
Phillip, Jonathan, Tom and Will all burst through the doors.
‘Can we help?’ asked Phillip, no trace of a wasp in evidence.
Libby shrugged. ‘You can look over the theatre. Who saw him last?’
‘I haven’t seen him all day,’ said Alan, ‘but we often didn’t unless he came in for lunch at the Manor.’
Max came down from the lighting box.
‘No one’s seen him at the pub, either. Seb said goodnight to him when they got back from the station last night and that was it.’
‘He was terribly nervous
about the show,’ said Libby.
‘Yes, he was,’ Phillip looked thoughtful. ‘Do you think he knew something?’
They all looked at each other and Libby saw her own foreboding mirrored in the other faces.
‘Let’s look,’ said Jonathan and they went through the auditorium doors. Libby went back to the main doors as the Range Rover drew up and Ben climbed out.
‘No sign?’
‘No,’ said Libby, ‘and Max said no one’s seen him at the pub, either. Oh, Ben, he was so scared about this production. He must have known something.’
‘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.’
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