‘I didn’t mean to burden you with our problems. It’s just that Paul is behaving strangely and – without Harvey here – I’m having difficulty handling him.’
‘Where is he now?’
‘He’s upstairs in his room.’
‘What exactly is the trouble, Ellen?’
‘Before I tell you,’ she said, perching on the edge of an armchair, ‘let me first ask after you and the family. How are you all?’
‘We’re much as usual,’ he replied. ‘We could do with less work and more sleep but that’s impossible in the life we’ve chosen. Lily sends her love, by the way.’
‘Take ours back to her.’
Ellen had always liked him. Raymond Marmion was kind, compassionate and trustworthy. She felt able to confide her innermost secrets to him, knowing that she would always get a fair hearing and good advice.
‘I do feel something of a fraud,’ she began.
‘Why is that?’
‘Helping people in distress or in dire circumstances is what you do for a living. Our problems are nothing beside those of people who are on the verge of starvation or simply have nowhere to live.’
‘It’s nonetheless real, Ellen.’
‘And we’re so much better off than other parents of wounded soldiers.’
‘Forget about them. Let’s talk about Paul.’
She heaved a sigh. ‘I’m not quite sure where to start …’
It was as if a tap had been turned on inside Ellen. One after the other, her woes and fears poured out in quick succession. She listed a whole a series of incidents that ended in friction with her son. When she told him about the letter from Mavis Tandy, he held up both palms to stop the surge.
‘Hold on a moment,’ he said. ‘Why were you so unhappy when he agreed to meet this person?’
‘She wants to talk about Paul’s best friend. She wants to know exactly what happened to Colin Fryatt. I read her letter out to him. It seemed so … well, morbid. She’s obviously grieving – and she has my sympathy for her loss – but she’s trying to draw memories out of Paul that are best left hidden.’
‘There are some things you just can’t bury, Ellen. This may be one of them.’
‘I don’t want him to suffer that torment all over again.’
‘In the end, it’s his choice.’
‘He should put it all behind him.’
‘That’s easier said than done. What do you know of Mavis Tandy?’
‘She lives in Gillingham.’
‘How did she come to meet Paul’s friend?’
‘Oh, it was quite by chance,’ said Ellen. ‘Colin had relatives in Gillingham and called on them during his last leave. He met Mavis at the tea shop where she worked. When she realised he was a soldier, she said that she was thinking of volunteering to become a nurse and asked what conditions were like in France. They liked each other on sight, apparently. That’s how it started.’
‘Then it sounds very much like the way Lily and I got together,’ he said with an affectionate smile. ‘I saw her walking down the street and I was captivated. She was not just beautiful, she was so self-possessed. I’d never met a woman like her.’
She gave a dry laugh. ‘It was different for Harvey and me. We took a long time to decide if we really had found the person we’d like to share our lives with. The trouble was that we spent so little time alone. My father was very strict. He watched us like hawks.’
He chuckled. ‘I remember my brother complaining about it.’
‘He always said that if we ever had a daughter, he’d allow her more freedom.’
‘And is that what he did with Alice?’
‘Well, no, Harvey was almost as bad as my father at first. When she had her first boyfriend, he told her the exact time she had to be back at home.’
‘I can’t imagine Alice putting up with that attitude.’
‘She challenged her father. I was too meek and mild to do that with mine.’
‘You never struck me as meek and mild, Ellen. You’ve got real spirit.’
‘I’ve only been able to show it since I was married.’ She reached out to touch his arm. ‘Will you speak to Paul for me, please?’
‘I haven’t come all this way to miss seeing my nephew.’
‘Thank you, Raymond. I knew I could rely on you.’
‘I can’t promise I’ll achieve the result you want.’
‘That’s part of the problem,’ she confessed. ‘Where Paul is concerned, I’m not absolutely sure what I do want.’
On the drive to the next house, the detectives were able to discuss the visit to the Pattinson household. Both of them had reached the same conclusions.
‘Mrs Pattinson is smitten with Wilder,’ said Marmion, ‘and her husband is not entirely happy about that.’
‘No,’ agreed Keedy, ‘if he hadn’t been there, his wife would have been able to talk much more freely.’
‘She filled in a lot of blank spaces for us, Joe. I’m grateful to her for that.’
‘So am I. Did you notice that photograph on the mantelpiece?’
‘Yes, Pattinson was wearing the uniform of a major.’
‘A lot of retired soldiers use their rank to impress people. I wonder why he doesn’t do that.’
‘He must have his reasons.’
They were both mystified by the response they got to their inquiry about payment. Since Wilder had been running a business, they’d assumed that he would pay his accompanist accordingly but she was insulted by the very suggestion, and so was her husband. Marmion took a practical view.
‘She’s obviously a good pianist,’ he said, ‘and deserves some sort of wage.’
‘Maybe she’s happy with rewards of the heart.’
‘Would you be happy in her situation?’
‘No, I certainly wouldn’t. I’ve got too many bills to pay. Anyway,’ admitted Keedy, ‘I haven’t got a musical bone in my body. Alice says that I can’t even whistle in tune. She’s always complaining about it.’
‘Alice had piano lessons when she was younger. She used to practise all hours. When she was a teacher, she sometimes played for the children. But the real surprise is Paul,’ he continued. ‘He’s turning into the family musician.’
‘Is he still playing his friend’s mouth organ?’
‘Yes,’ said Marmion, ‘but it’s not any old mouth organ with a limited range of notes. His friend, Colin Fryatt, used to belong to a harmonica band. From time to time, they earned a few bob playing in pubs.’
‘Is that what Paul wants to do?’
‘No, Joe, I think it just helps him pass the time. But he’s got a good ear for music and loves playing the songs they sing at the front. Ellen gets a bit fed up when she hears “It’s a Long Way to Tipperary” a hundred times a day but playing the mouth organ seems to be his only interest.’
Paul Marmion shook hands with his uncle. Though pleased to see him – if only in hazy outline – he had no illusions about the purpose of Raymond Marmion’s visit. When his mother went off to make some tea, Paul sat down opposite him.
‘How are Auntie Lily and the boys?’ he asked.
‘They’re keeping busy. Your aunt is in charge of the soup kitchen. We sell it at a penny a bowl. We’re always short of helpers.’
‘Don’t look at me.’
‘You don’t need much training to dole out soup.’
‘It’s not the work that worries me. It’s the uniform.’
‘You wouldn’t have to wear one.’
‘No, but I’d be surrounded by people who do.’
Raymond laughed. ‘Is that what worries you – guilt by association?’
Without warning, Paul’s manner changed in a flash. Having been relaxed and friendly, he suddenly became tense and hostile.
‘The Salvation Army uniform has always annoyed me,’ he complained.
‘It’s something I wear with great pride, Paul.’
‘But it gives the wrong impression.’
‘What do you mean?�
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‘You put on a uniform in the name of peace. I put it on to kill people.’
‘We’re soldiers of the cross,’ said his uncle. ‘We fight a different battle.’
‘You should try fighting a real one. Nobody at the Somme was thinking about salvation. The only thing on our minds was survival.’
‘The two are closely linked.’
‘I don’t think so.’
Raymond tried appeasement. ‘Well, I don’t want to preach at you,’ he said, affably. ‘After all this time, you know where we stand as an organisation. I only called in to see how you were getting on.’
‘You were sent for,’ said Paul, resentfully. ‘You came to change my mind.’
‘I’d certainly like to change your mind about the Salvation Army. We’re not skulking over here while the soldiers are at the front. We’ve set up canteens in France close to the trenches. You fought the enemy with bullets. Our ammunition is cups of tea and doughnuts. When British troops are half-dead with exhaustion, we help to revive them. We offer them physical and spiritual assistance and I won’t have anyone disparaging us when they don’t realise what we’re doing for the war effort.’
Paul was momentarily checked by his uncle’s passionate response. He then got to his feet, wagged his finger and spoke earnestly.
‘I want to see her, Uncle Raymond, and nobody can stop me.’
‘I couldn’t agree more.’
‘Colin was a good friend. He’d expect it of me.’
‘Of course he would.’
‘And, whatever you say, I still think the Salvation Army looks silly, dressing up in uniform and playing at being soldiers.’
‘Come and see us at the hostel. We might shatter a few illusions for you.’
‘No, thanks – I’ve got much better things to do.’
On that disagreeable note, he turned on his heel, stalked off to the door and let himself out. A couple of minutes later, Ellen entered with the tea on a tray.
She looked round. ‘Where’s Paul?’
‘He walked out on me.’
‘That was very rude of him.’
‘I didn’t take it personally, Ellen,’ he said with a tolerant smile. ‘For some reason, this uniform often upsets people. I didn’t realise that my nephew was one of them. But if you want my opinion,’ he went on, glancing upward, ‘it’s this. You’re right to be very concerned about Paul. He’s undergoing some sort of crisis.’
The news did not come entirely as a surprise to Odele Thompson. She’d heard rumours of a murder and, when she walked past the dance studio, she’d seen the notice pinned to the door. When the detectives called on her, therefore, they were only confirming what she’d feared. Her reaction was strange. Instead of being shocked like Catherine Wilder, or distraught like Audrey Pattinson, she thought only of herself.
‘That means I’ll miss the British Dance Championships.’
‘Mr Wilder will miss them as well,’ Marmion pointed out, ‘and his loss, if I may say so, is a great deal more serious than yours.’
‘We’ve worked so hard these past few months.’
‘That’s beside the point, Miss Thompson.’
‘And we had a good chance of winning. I feel so cheated.’
‘How do you think Mr Wilder feels?’ asked Keedy.
‘I find that remark in bad taste, Sergeant.’
Odele Thompson was a thin, animated woman in her late twenties with dark, curly hair, high cheekbones and darting eyes. She rented a flat in a large house in Wood Green. Everything about the room suggested that she lived there alone. On the mantelpiece and on every shelf was a framed photograph, mostly of her dancing on her own. Simon Wilder partnered her in the large photograph that hung on a wall. Also on the walls were framed theatre posters bearing her name. Marmion found her unattractive and self-centred, yet Keedy was struck by her brittle beauty. Neither of them could believe that they were dealing with someone who ought to feel bereaved. Odele seemed more irritated than heartbroken.
‘Who killed him?’ she asked.
‘We’re hoping that you might help us find the man,’ said Marmion.
‘What can I possibly do?’
‘Well, for a start, you can tell us about what happened yesterday. You and Mr Wilder had a practice session, I believe.’
‘That’s right, Inspector.’
‘What sort of a mood was he in?’
‘We were both optimistic. For once, everything went right. We danced like the Castles and never put a foot out of place.’
‘Have you ever seen the Castles dance?’
‘As a matter of fact, I have,’ she said, airily. ‘I was working in Paris when they came there a few years ago. What they did was amazing. They took the Café de Paris by storm – that’s where I saw them doing the famous Castle Walk. As for their foxtrot, it was a revelation.’
‘What time did you part company with Mr Wilder yesterday?’ asked Keedy.
‘It must have been well after five o’clock. When you have such a strenuous rehearsal, you need to get your breath back.’
‘And what happened when you parted?’
‘Simon went his way and so did I.’
‘Do you have any idea where he went?’
‘He said that he was going home first.’
‘And after that?’
‘You’ll have to ask Catherine.’
‘We already have,’ said Marmion. ‘She has no idea where he went.’
Odele smiled. ‘Simon did rather like to cover his tracks.’
‘Why was that, Miss Thompson?’
‘Are you married, Inspector?’
‘Yes, I am.’
‘Then you’ll know why men sometimes prefer to keep their wives in the dark.’
Marmion was nettled. ‘I’m always very honest with my wife.’
‘Honesty can be a dangerous thing, Inspector.’
‘Are you telling me that you’re dishonest?’
‘I live in the real world.’
‘Miss Thompson,’ he said, close to exasperation, ‘I must say that you surprise me. When most people hear of a friend being murdered, they at least express some kind of sympathy. And they also want to know exactly what happened.’
‘Simon is dead. That’s what happened. I have to suffer the consequences.’
‘Don’t you feel sorry that he’s dead?’ asked Keedy.
‘Yes, I do, naturally. I’m very sorry. He taught me a lot. But you must understand that I have my career to consider.’
Judging by the size and comfort of the room, her career had brought her an appreciative income. Expensive ornaments stood on every surface. A silk dressing gown was draped over the back of a chair. On a table in the corner was the largest gramophone either of them had ever seen. There was a sizeable collection of records stacked neatly underneath it.
She looked from one to the other. ‘You don’t understand, do you?’
‘I’m afraid that we don’t,’ replied Marmion.
‘I first danced on stage when I was only five years old, Inspector. My parents both performed in music halls, you see. I was born to it. But I always found those audiences a trifle vulgar. What I really wanted to do was to appear in stage musicals that gave me a chance to sing and dance. Have you ever heard of Gaiety Girl?’ She sailed on before they could respond. ‘I had my big chance in that. I understudied the female lead and went on for five performances. Simon Wilder was at one of them. He was an actor in those days and we … knew each other.’
‘We didn’t ask for your life story, Miss Thompson,’ said Keedy.
‘But it explains the way I behave.’
‘Does it?’
‘Live theatre is a long succession of hazards. So many things can go wrong. I rehearsed for three weeks for one show and it was postponed because the principal dancer broke her leg in a fall. When I auditioned for the second production, I didn’t get a part. In another stage musical, the leading man had a heart attack and collapsed. They brought the curtain down and sen
t everyone home. I never even got to show the audience what I could do as a dancer. And there are dozens of other examples,’ she went on. ‘I’m inured to calamities. I’ve been the victim of so many.’
‘It’s Mr Wilder who’s the victim here,’ said Marmion with asperity.
‘I’ll write to Catherine.’
‘Have you always been so heartless?’
‘You have to develop a thick skin in my profession, Inspector.’ She sized up Keedy. ‘Have you ever thought of taking up dancing, Sergeant? You have the body and the looks for it.’
‘The only body that interests me at the moment,’ he said, levelly, ‘is that of Mr Wilder. We need to find his killer.’
‘We all want that.’
‘Did he have any enemies?’
‘He had a lot of rivals,’ she said, ‘but that’s in the nature of things. He turned the dance studio into a small gold mine and he gave lots of ladies an experience that they will treasure. Speak to Audrey Pattinson. She was his accompanist.’
‘We already have spoken to her.’
‘When she first met Simon, she was a sad, dried-up little creature who’d never had any real joy in her life. Her father had been a cathedral organist and she’d learnt to play organ and piano. But her real yearning was for dance music,’ said Odele. ‘Simon showed her a whole new world. In a sense, he resurrected her.’
‘Let’s go back to the question the inspector asked you,’ suggested Keedy. ‘If he didn’t have enemies, did he have any rivals who might go to extremes?’
She suddenly twitched and sat bolt upright in her chair. Her mouth fell open, her eyes glazed over and she began to shiver. It was as if the news of the murder had finally penetrated her consciousness. It was no longer an inconvenience to her dancing ambitions. She realised that she’d lost a dear friend and was aghast. Having been appalled at her earlier reaction, they now felt sorry for her.
‘I’ll tell you something,’ she said, querulously.
‘What’s that Miss Thompson?’ asked Keedy.
‘I was with Simon a couple of weeks ago in Shaftesbury Avenue …’
‘Go on.’
‘Well, he came to an abrupt halt and swung round sharply.’
‘Why did he do that?’
‘He thought that someone was following him.’
Dance of Death Page 6
