‘He might have let slip where he’d be going that night.’
‘Then why didn’t she mention it to us?’
‘The poor woman was grief-stricken. She couldn’t think properly.’
‘No,’ said Marmion, firmly, ‘if she’d had the slightest clue where he went, Mrs Pattinson would have told us by now. She’s had time to get over the initial horror of what happened. Nobody is keener to see the killer found and arrested than her. She’s desperate to help us without quite knowing how.’
Chatfield was adamant. ‘I rely on instinct. Pattinson is implicated somehow.’
‘There’s something I’d question, sir.’
‘What’s that?’
‘Earlier on, you said that on the night of the murder he was lying in bed beside his wife. You’re assuming that they actually sleep together.’
‘It’s what married couples do, Inspector.’
‘That’s not true,’ Keedy interjected. ‘I have an uncle and aunt who don’t sleep together even though they’ve been married for thirty years. Uncle Ben snores so much that Auntie Frances refuses to share the same bed.’
‘And – as was pointed out once before – there are lots of other reasons why people sleep apart,’ said Marmion.
‘I agree with the inspector, sir. The Pattinsons did not strike me as a couple who were particularly close in any way. They could well have separate bedrooms.’
‘That being the case,’ said Chatfield, seizing on the suggestion, ‘he could have committed the murder, after all. Pattinson could have waited until his wife dozed off then slipped quietly out of the house.’
Marmion was unconvinced but he held his tongue. After further speculation, Chatfield turned his attention to Keedy. It was a moment the sergeant had been dreading because he would have to describe his second meeting with Odele Thompson, an event that still caused him unease. He licked his lips before speaking. As Keedy recounted the incident, Marmion noted how nervous he seemed and wondered if they were hearing a full and unedited version of what had actually happened. When Keedy had first told him about Odele’s visit, his account had been unusually concise. Marmion was now hearing additional details. Among them was the fact that Odele had demanded police protection.
‘There’s no question of that,’ snapped Chatfield. ‘We don’t have the manpower to assign a bodyguard to her. Besides, I find it hard to have sympathy for the woman.’
‘She was definitely attacked, sir,’ said Keedy. ‘I saw the bruises.’
‘Redmond was retaliating after her assault.’
‘He obviously terrified her.’
‘To some extent, she asked for it. We’re not talking about a vestal virgin here, Sergeant. Miss Thompson admitted that she and Redmond had been lovers – she even gave him a key to her flat. Intercourse outside marriage is a sin,’ insisted Chatfield, ‘and she paid the penalty for it.’
‘That’s a very harsh judgement, sir,’ said Marmion.
‘She struck the fellow with a flower vase and he hit her back. To my mind, that comes under the heading of a domestic incident. There’s no need for police involvement. They both got what they deserved.’
‘You’re missing the point, sir,’ ventured Keedy.
Chatfield glared. ‘I never miss the point, Sergeant.’
‘Redmond came to see her because she’d named him as a potential suspect. In doing so, he behaved in a way that I’d never have thought possible.’
‘Nor me,’ added Marmion. ‘He was, by report, such a personable character. I couldn’t envisage him threatening a woman, still less actually striking one.’
‘We have another suspect, Superintendent,’ said Keedy. ‘Miss Thompson may have been right all along. Redmond was her first choice as the killer.’
‘She was acting out of malice when she named him,’ argued Chatfield. ‘It’s often the way with discarded lovers. They’re driven by spite.’
‘But Odele – Miss Thompson, I should say – was not discarded. She led me to believe that she got rid of him. She demanded the key back then threw him out of the flat. If anyone nursed resentment, it was Redmond.’
‘It looks as if we now have three possible killers,’ said Marmion, thoughtfully. ‘To the names of Atterbury and Pattinson, we have to add that of Allan Redmond.’
‘I favour the first two,’ asserted Chatfield, ‘acting together.’
Keedy shook his head. ‘My preference would be for Redmond.’
‘What’s your opinion, Inspector?’
‘So far,’ said Marmion, ‘we have three persons of interest. My opinion is that – before long – we may well have one or two more. Let me introduce a possibility that we haven’t yet considered. The killer may not be a man, after all. Simon Wilder might have been murdered by a woman.’
Catherine Wilder was so full of anger that she wielded the knife with real venom. She was simply slicing a cucumber yet she might have been hacking away at her worst enemy. Not having been able to eat anything for several hours, she felt hungry but the only thing that tempted her palate was a cucumber and tomato sandwich. When she’d finished making it, she put it on the kitchen table and sank down into a chair. The doorbell then rang. Catherine’s first impulse was to ignore it but she had second thoughts. Although it was quite late, she decided that it might be the police or even her brother, Nathan, returning for something he forgot to take with him. Reluctantly, she got up and went to the door. An unlikely caller awaited her.
‘Colette!’ she said in surprise.
‘Hello, Mrs Wilder.’
‘What are you doing here?’
‘I was hoping for a few words with you,’ said Colette, tentatively. ‘If it’s a bad time, I can always come back in the morning.’
‘No, no – you might as well come in.’
Catherine let her visitor in and took her into the living room. Pointedly, she didn’t offer Colette a seat. When she studied her, Catherine could see that she’d been crying. Like her husband, she’d been quick to identify her talent as a dancer but had grown tired of Wilder’s endless praise of the girl. Whenever they’d met, there’d been a slight tension between them. Catherine resented the amount of time her husband lavished on the young dancer while Colette felt that she was being judged and found wanting by the older woman. The tension was now stronger than ever.
‘I’m so sorry about what happened,’ said Colette, trying to break it.
‘We all are.’
‘Yes, but it must be so much worse for you, Mrs Wilder. I only saw your husband for lessons. You shared your whole life with him.’
‘I did have outside interests as well,’ said Catherine, defensively.
‘It was such a shame that you had to give up dancing. You were marvellous.’
‘Thank you, Colette.’
‘I’ll always remember the two of you at the Dance Championships. You were wonderful to watch.’
Catherine was bitter. ‘My career was cut short by a bad accident,’ she said. ‘Bear that in mind and be very careful at all times. You have to be in perfect health to dance well.’
‘Mr Wilder kept telling me that.’
There was a lengthy pause. Colette shifted her feet uneasily while Catherine tossed a glance in the direction of the sandwich. Envious of her visitor’s youth and lithe body, she just wanted her to go. Dispensing with politeness, she indicated the door.
‘It was good of you to pass on your condolences,’ she said, curtly, ‘but I’m very tired and would like to be left alone.’
‘Yes, yes, of course, Mrs Wilder. It’s just that …’
‘Well?’
‘It’s just that …’
‘Go on, Colette – don’t keep me waiting.’
‘The thing is …’ said the other, chewing her lip, ‘the thing is …’ Losing her nerve, she blurted out something she hadn’t even intended to say. ‘I was wondering what was going to happen to the dance studio.’
‘It’s closed down.’
‘Are you going to sell
it?’
‘I haven’t made any decision yet. The one thing I won’t be doing is to reopen it. When we started, it was an exciting new project. Now … well, to be honest, it’s just a burden, so it may well have to go.’
‘That’s very sad.’ Seeing that Catherine wanted to usher her out, Colette moved on to the real purpose of her visit. ‘Did Mr Wilder leave anything for me?’
‘What a strange question!’
‘Did he?’
‘I haven’t really looked at his will.’
‘I’m not talking about his will, Mrs Wilder. I just thought that … there might be something for me in an envelope.’
Catherine’s voice tightened. ‘Are you talking about money?’
‘No, no, it’s nothing like that.’
‘I hope not.’
‘Then forget I even came. It was wrong of me to interrupt you when … and it’s not that important, anyway. If it had been, Mr Wilder would have left it for me. Clearly, he didn’t. Goodbye,’ said Colette, turning away, ‘I’ll let myself out.’
Before Catherine could move, her visitor hurried to the front door and opened it before charging out into the night. Fear and remorse etched deeply into her face, Colette ran all the way home.
When she got back to her flat, Alice Marmion began to regret that she’d been so intent on guarding her privacy. As a result, she would spend the rest of the evening alone. There were other female tenants in the house and they sometimes gathered in a room downstairs but there was no sign of them now. All that Alice could do was to return to her room and wonder what it was that made her want to keep Iris Goodliffe at a slight distance rather than seeing her as a potential true friend. Throughout the murder investigation, she would have to work her way through a whole litany of excuses because Iris would not be easily shaken off. There would come a time when Alice gave in out of exhaustion. Why not spare herself all the deceit, she asked?
As she sat beside the window, she gazed unseeingly down at the street. There was enough moonlight to pick out an old man with a dog on a lead. He walked past the house without looking up. A bus then drove past noisily. Alice didn’t even hear the sound. It was only when a car drew up in her direct line of vision that she took notice. The door of the front passenger seat opened, someone got out and waved a thank you to the driver, then the vehicle pulled away. Alice was on her feet in an instant. Though she could not make him out clearly, she was certain that Keedy had come for her. She raced down the stairs and let herself out of the building.
Flinging herself into his arms, she kissed away the time they’d been apart.
‘I never dared to expect you, Joe,’ she said.
‘I’ve always been full of surprises.’
‘How did you get hold of that police car?’
‘The driver was an old friend. I asked for a favour.’
‘Well, I’m the one who got the favour,’ said Alice, squeezing his arm. ‘Let’s go for a walk.’
‘You could always invite me in,’ he teased.
‘If I did that, my landlady would throw me straight out again. You know the rules, Joe. Men are only allowed in at certain times and under controlled conditions.’
‘What did your landlady used to be – a prison wardress?’
‘She’s very old-fashioned, that’s all.’
He fell in beside her and she took his arm. They strolled on down the street. For the first few minutes, they said nothing at all, simply enjoying the pleasure of being together again. Then he glanced upwards.
‘Who knows? We might get to see another Zeppelin being shot down.’
‘It was an amazing sight, wasn’t it?’
‘Yes, Alice, the problem was that it got me into trouble with your father.’
‘What did Daddy say?’
‘He wasn’t happy that I kept you out so late,’ said Keedy. ‘You didn’t get back to bed until the dead of night and neither did I. Not that I need have bothered, mind you. No sooner had I fallen asleep than I was awakened again. Your father was outside in a car. On the drive to Scotland Yard, I told him we’d actually seen the air raid and he went off into that disapproving silence of his. Anyway,’ he added, ‘that’s enough about me. What have you been getting up to?’
Alice told her about the new recruit and how she somehow had reservations about Iris Goodliffe. Though she liked her immensely, she felt unable to take their friendship to another level.
‘I can explain that,’ he said, airily.
‘Can you?’
‘It’s deep-seated jealousy. If you let her into your social life, you’re afraid that she’ll fall madly in love with me and want to scratch your eyes out.’ He recoiled from the punch she gave him in the ribs. ‘It’s one explanation.’
‘Believe it or not, Joe Keedy, not every young woman is standing there with her tongue out, waiting for you to come along. As it happens, Iris doesn’t seem that interested in men. She’s never had a boyfriend and never taken steps to find one.’
‘Is she attractive?’
‘She could be.’
‘So what’s the problem?’
‘Iris thinks she’d too podgy to interest men.’
‘Then let her lose weight. Take her out running somewhere.’
‘I don’t like running.’
‘That’s not true at all. You ran after me for years. Aouw!’ he yelled as she landed another punch. ‘All right, maybe I was the one doing the chasing but that’s what men are supposed to do, isn’t it?’
‘You can be very annoying sometimes, Joe.’
‘It’s one of my many irresistible features.’ She laughed and he slipped an arm around her shoulders. ‘So what are you going to do with Iris?’
‘I haven’t decided.’
‘That’s unlike you, Alice. You’re very decisive as a rule.’
‘I don’t want her to take over my social life completely.’
‘Then tell her that in so many words. I’m sure that she’d appreciate a bit of leisure time with you even if it’s strictly limited.’
‘I don’t want to be unkind to her.’
‘Find out what she’s like off duty. There’s no harm in that, is there?’
Alice was pensive. ‘I suppose not …’
‘Right,’ he said, ‘that’s your problem solved. Let me tell you about one that I have. In the course of our investigation, we’ve met a middle-aged pianist and her somewhat older husband. Answer me this: how do we find out if the pair of them sleep together?’ When she began to giggle, Keedy was upset. ‘Don’t laugh, Alice,’ he remonstrated. ‘It’s a serious question.’
Seated at the grand piano in an empty house, Audrey Pattinson was in her element, playing a medley of waltzes, quicksteps and foxtrots as if trying to evoke the spirit of Simon Wilder. As her fingers moved deftly over the keys, she remembered him dancing with his wife, circling the floor in such perfect harmony that they might have been joined mysteriously together. Odele Thompson came next to mind, working hard to master every new figure she was taught and always ready to take the rehearsal on beyond its allotted time. Other female dancers came to mind, some much older than Wilder but feeling rejuvenated when they were being instructed by him. Finally, Audrey recalled the way that Colette Orme had been introduced to the dance studio by her mentor. She arrived as a wide-eyed young woman with a lack of confidence and been taken on a magical journey, honing her raw talent into something that was a delight to behold and that would – in time, perhaps – have commercial viability.
Simon Wilder had made such a difference to so many lives. Men had profited from his instruction just as well as women. One couple who first met at the dance studio went on to get married and Audrey had played the organ at their wedding. Lost in her love of dance music and the memories it kindled, she nevertheless realised that she was no longer alone. While she didn’t hear her husband’s key being inserted in the lock, she was very much aware of his presence. Moments later, Pattinson opened the door of the living room and looked in.
/> ‘You’ll have to stop playing now,’ he said.
She closed the lid of the piano at once. ‘Yes, yes, of course I will, Martin.’
‘I’m going to bed. It’s time that you did as well.’
‘You’re right,’ she said, submissively. ‘It is rather late.’
There was an exchange of muted farewells, then Pattinson climbed the stairs. Audrey heard him go along the corridor using a key to unlock the door of his bedroom. As on every other night, she heard her husband lock it again from within.
Since their father went off to work early that morning, Colette and her brother were left to have breakfast together. Orme spoke through a mouthful of toast.
‘Dad says that you went out last night.’
‘Yes, I did.’
‘Where did you go?’
‘I just went for a walk.’
He smiled sadly. ‘And I daresay that walk took you past the studio, didn’t it?’ She nodded. ‘There are other places to learn, Colette.’
‘Nobody could teach me like Mr Wilder.’
‘Then you’ve got to accept that and live with it. Look at me,’ he went on, indicating his leg. ‘Nothing will ever be the same for me either, will it? I’m never going to play football or do any of the things I loved to do. So I simply put it all behind me and start afresh.’
‘That’s different, Dennis.’
‘The difference is that you still can carry on as before. Inside your head, you’ve got all those dances and figures that Mr Wilder taught you. Find a new partner and you can blossom even more.’
‘I don’t feel like dancing ever again,’ she confessed.
‘You will, Colette.’
‘I don’t see how.’
‘Dad believes in you,’ he said, earnestly, ‘and so do I. That’s why we scrimped and saved to pay for the lessons. Don’t let us down, please. And don’t let Mrs Pattinson down either,’ he went on. ‘She believes in you as well.’
Colette ate her toast and retreated into silence. She still regretted the decision to go to the Wilder house. She’d been given a tepid welcome and left in turmoil. There was no way that she could explain to Catherine what she was really after. All that she did was to feel extreme embarrassment. It was only when her brother offered to make some more tea that she realised he was there.
Dance of Death Page 15
