Dance of Death

by Edward Marston

  ‘No, thank you,’ she said. ‘I’ve had enough.’

  ‘So have I, then. I drink too much tea as it is.’ Orme grinned. ‘Last night, I drank far too much beer.’

  ‘I was in bed when you got back.’

  ‘They had to carry me most of the way.’

  ‘Daddy said that he’d always fetch you.’

  ‘I hate to call on him, Colette. Besides, what else are friends for?’

  Dennis Orme was a sociable character. As soon as he was released from hospital, he set about finding other injured soldiers from his regiment so that they could meet in a pub once or twice a week to share their experiences at the front. They were important meetings for him, getting him out of the house and talking to the only people who really understood what he’d been through. Colette was proud that her brother was the unofficial leader of the group but she did worry that he drank far too much.

  ‘It’s not good for you, Dennis.’

  ‘You can’t turn down a pint from a friend – and the beer is watered, anyway.’

  ‘I worry about you.’

  ‘The only thing you need to worry about is a career as a dancer,’ he said. ‘It’s what we’ve all worked for, Colette. I can’t wait for the time when I walk past a theatre and see your name up in lights.’

  ‘I’d prefer to be known as a ballroom dancer.’

  ‘Then I’ll polish every cup you win until it dazzles your eyes.’ She laughed and reached out to touch his hand. ‘It won’t be long before I earn a proper wage again. My leg doesn’t hurt any more and I’m getting more and more movement in this other arm of mine. Can you hear what I’m saying, Colette?’

  ‘I think so.’

  ‘I’ll soon be able to pay for more lessons for you.’

  Harvey Marmion was already missing the amenities of his office at Scotland Yard. While it was serviceable, the room allotted to them at Chingford Police Station had few comforts and, even in the warm weather, had a lingering dankness. What both he and Keedy had noticed was the reliance on special constables. They were always flitting in and out. Some of them were in their fifties and sixties. War had depleted the Metropolitan Police Force. The thousands of officers who’d left to join the army had been replaced by untrained volunteers who learnt as they went along. At a time when the scope of police duties had widened considerably, the force was distinctly understaffed and overburdened.

  ‘We could do with another twenty detectives at least, Joe,’ said Marmion.

  ‘Make it thirty. We need to knock on every door in Chingford.’

  ‘Somebody must have been with Wilder that night.’

  ‘I agree,’ said Keedy. ‘The trouble is that she probably has a husband. The last thing she wants to admit is that she was enjoying some hanky-panky with another man. She must be panic-stricken at the thought that she was one of the last people to see him alive.’

  ‘We can’t assume that a lover is involved.’

  ‘Wilder was a ladies’ man.’

  ‘You’re forgetting that he had a beautiful wife.’

  ‘I still think that he strayed and I fancy that Mrs Wilder reached the same conclusion. It would explain why she didn’t exactly behave like most wives of murder victims. You said how controlled she seemed.’

  ‘That was because her brother was there.’

  ‘I think there was another reason. Deep down, she doesn’t really care.’

  ‘Some people don’t wear their hearts on their sleeve. Catherine Wilder could be one of them – unlike Miss Thompson, for instance.’

  Mention of Odele Thompson made the sergeant recall his meeting with her on the previous day. He could still taste her kiss and felt guilty at doing so. It was one of the reasons he made the effort to see Alice that night.

  ‘Right,’ he said, getting up, ‘if you want me to tackle Allan Redmond again, I’ll be on my way. What will you be doing this morning?’

  ‘I’ll be speaking to Wilder’s bank manager. As soon as Gibbs turns up to take over here, I’ll be off. Bank managers are like priests taking confession. They tend to know their clients’ darkest secrets.’

  ‘My guess is that Wilder’s were darker than most.’

  ‘Leave me to find that out, Joe. Your job is to plumb Redmond’s secrets.’

  He waved Keedy off and the sergeant left the room. In less than a minute, there was a tap on the door and Marmion expected Detective Constable Gibbs to report for duty. Instead, it was a uniformed policeman with the news that a woman had arrived to speak to the inspector.

  ‘What’s her name, Constable?’

  ‘Mrs Hogg, sir.’

  ‘Show the lady in.’

  The policeman went out and returned a few seconds later with a tall, shapely, handsome woman in her thirties. Her features were clouded with concern. Left alone with Marmion, she was anxious to know if anyone had yet been arrested for the murder.

  ‘Oh,’ she said, drawing back, ‘do forgive me, Inspector. I haven’t even introduced myself. I’m Gillian Hogg.’

  ‘Hogg was Mr Wilder’s real name, wasn’t it? Are you related to him?’

  ‘Yes and no – that’s to say, I used to be and, in some ways, I still am.’

  ‘You’re confusing me, Mrs Hogg.’

  ‘It’s quite simple,’ she said. ‘I was Simon’s first wife.’

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  As she washed up the breakfast things, Ellen Marmion swung to and fro between regret and apprehension. Guilt dogged her. She was profoundly sorry that she’d unloaded all her worries on to her husband the moment he got through the door. After a long day at work, Marmion had arrived home just before midnight to be greeted by an exhaustive account of Ellen’s latest anxieties about their son. It had only increased his frustration at being unable to confront Paul himself because of his commitments at work. All that Marmion could do was to soothe his wife and offer advice. When she recalled how tired her husband had looked and sounded, Ellen blamed herself for keeping him away from his bed for so long and resolved to be more considerate next time.

  Apprehension swiftly displaced regret. She’d reached a point when she had to admit that she was deeply afraid of her son, fearful of what he would do or say and unable to exert any influence on him. Ellen looked back with a shudder at the long list of people – family members included – who’d been offended by Paul’s behaviour. She wondered who would be his next victim. And yet, she reminded herself, he had been much more subdued since his meeting with Mavis Tandy. Ellen had feared that talking to her about life at the front would intensify Paul’s nightmares and lead to even more erratic behaviour. Surprisingly, however, Mavis seemed to have had a calming effect on him, leading Ellen to wonder exactly what had happened between them and to feel snubbed when he refused to tell her.

  Paul had been remarkably quiet during breakfast but at least there’d been no sign of his bad temper. Ellen was grateful for that. What she couldn’t understand was why he was spending an inordinately long time in the bathroom. When he eventually came downstairs again, she had her answer. He’d taken even more care with his appearance than on the previous day. He’d shaved, combed his hair with meticulous care and put on his best suit. His shoes had been polished to a high sheen. He was no longer the slovenly son, lounging around the house all day and prone to tantrums.

  ‘You look very smart,’ she said, brushing a speck of dust off his shoulder.

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Are you going somewhere important?’

  ‘That’s my business.’

  ‘Yes, yes, of course – I didn’t mean to pry.’

  ‘I don’t know what time I’ll be back.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘Don’t make any meals for me.’

  ‘Where will you eat?’

  ‘I’m off now.’

  ‘Wait,’ she said, touching his sleeve. ‘Is there anything you need?’

  He looked indignant. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well – money, for instance. I can lend you some,
if need be.’

  ‘I’ve got everything I want.’

  ‘You only have to ask, Paul.’

  ‘I can manage on my own.’

  And without a word of farewell, he turned on his heel and left the house.

  The unexpected arrival of Gillian Hogg had introduced a whole new dimension to the investigation. Since she was clearly so uncertain and overwrought, Marmion first offered her a seat then called for some tea to be made. When he described how the investigation was going, he chose his words with care. No reference was made to the hideous injuries sustained by Wilder because he wanted to shield her from the full details. Gradually, she began to relax. As her pinched face resumed something like its normal shape, he could see how attractive she was and was bound to wonder why any husband would cast her aside. Only when the tea arrived, and she’d had her first few sips, was she able to talk about herself.

  ‘This won’t get into the newspapers, will it?’ she asked, nervously.

  ‘That depends on what you tell me, Mrs Hogg.’

  ‘It’s very private.’

  ‘All I’m interested in is information that will help me catch the person or persons I’m after,’ he assured her. ‘Anything you tell me of a personal nature will be respected as such.’

  ‘Thank you, Inspector.’

  She needed another sip of tea before she was ready to plunge in. When she did so, she spoke rapidly, looking over her shoulder to make sure nobody else was listening. Gillian was trembling.

  ‘You’ll wonder why I haven’t come forward until now,’ she began.

  ‘I’m just glad that you have seen fit to contact us.’

  ‘When I heard the news, I was petrified. I just couldn’t move or think. The horror of it all was just too much to take in. Can you understand that?’

  ‘It’s not an unfamiliar reaction, Mrs Hogg.’

  ‘I kept torturing myself with the thought that I might have done something to avert what happened but’ – she spread her arms – ‘how was I to know?’ Gillian braced herself before her revelation. ‘Simon was with me that night, you see.’

  Marmion sat up with interest. ‘Can you give me a precise time?’

  ‘He left me sometime between half past nine and ten o’clock.’

  ‘And where were the two of you at the time?’

  ‘We were in my flat, Inspector,’ she explained. ‘Actually, it’s our flat. It’s still in our joint names. It’s in Archer Street.’

  ‘That’s close to Shaftesbury Avenue,’ he said. ‘Mr Wilder was spotted there around ten o’clock by three different people. What I need to know is where he went afterwards. Did he tell you?’

  ‘I’m afraid not – but I can tell you where he didn’t go.’

  ‘Well?’

  ‘This must go no further,’ she warned. ‘I don’t want anyone to know that I told you this – especially one particular person.’

  ‘You can trust me, Mrs Hogg.’

  ‘This is going to sound like malice on my part but that’s not what it is at all.’

  ‘I’ll remember that.’

  She looked him in the eye. ‘Simon didn’t go straight home, Inspector,’ she said, ‘because he didn’t feel welcome there.’

  ‘Is that what brought him to you in the first place?’

  ‘We’re good friends. In view of what happened, that may seem strange but it’s the truth. We met and married when we were both struggling to make a living on the stage and we soon realised that it had been nothing more than an infatuation. Oh, that’s not a complaint,’ she went on. ‘While it lasted, it was wonderfully exciting. It was like being in a state of permanent inebriation.’

  ‘That’s something I’ve never experienced,’ he admitted. ‘I’ve always had a sober disposition. Are you saying that you parted from Mr Wilder amicably?’

  ‘It suited both of us,’ she said, crisply. ‘My career was taking me more and more outside London and Simon already had his eye on someone – or, to be more exact, Catherine had her eye on him. She’d been waiting in the wings for some time.’

  ‘I gather that she’s a wealthy woman.’

  ‘I could never compete with her on those terms. Where I did have the whip hand over her was in the simple matter of caring for Simon. I loved him and listened to him. That’s why we remained friends. Whenever he had a problem, he couldn’t discuss it with Catherine, he always turned to me.’

  Marmion was intrigued by the glimpse of a new aspect of the murder victim.

  ‘And what sort of problems did Mr Wilder have, exactly?’ he asked.

  Keedy arrived at the house to find that Allan Redmond was not there. He was, however, as a kindly neighbour pointed out, very close at hand. Keedy only had to walk around the corner to the tennis club and there was Redmond in his tennis kit, looking fit and agile as he played a much older man. His service was so powerful and well directed that his opponent had difficulty getting his racquet on the ball, let alone returning it over the net. On the other hand, when the older man served, the ball was hit back hard every time and Redmond controlled the subsequent rally. In the end, the older man lunged forward and stretched for a ball that dropped tantalisingly over the net. He let out a yelp of pain. Clutching one thigh, he hopped on the other leg and signalled that the match was over.

  After watching Redmond sympathise with the man, Keedy moved in. Once again, the dancer behaved as if he was expecting the visit and had no objection to it. There was a piece of sticking plaster on his temple. He touched it gently.

  ‘This is what you’ve come about, isn’t it?’ he asked, amiably. ‘I daresay that Odele told you about our little tussle.’

  ‘You always seem to choose opponents who offer little resistance,’ said Keedy, indicating the player now limping off court. ‘Your friend was no match for you and neither was Miss Thompson.’

  ‘I dispute that, Sergeant! She brained me with a flower vase.’

  ‘That was after she caught you trespassing on her property.’

  Redmond smirked. ‘I just dropped in to discuss old times.’

  ‘You went there to threaten the lady because she brought you to our attention. I’m beginning to see why she did so now.’

  ‘Odele likes to cause mischief. That’s all she was doing.’

  ‘You caused more than mischief, sir. She was shaking with fear.’

  ‘I don’t believe that for a second,’ said the other. ‘She’s as hard as nails. You have to be tough in an overcrowded profession like ours. Those gushing tears and the cries of terror were for your benefit, Sergeant. Odele has taken a fancy to you. She likes strong and handsome young men.’

  ‘Not when they attack her, she doesn’t.’

  Redmond fixed him with a challenging stare. ‘Does she want me prosecuted?’

  ‘In my opinion, she should do.’

  ‘Answer my question.’

  ‘No,’ conceded Keedy. ‘Miss Thompson decided against it.’

  ‘There you are, then,’ said the other, triumphantly. ‘Odele is a real fighter, I’ll admit that. We often came to blows when she and I were close friends. An argument would flare up, there was an unholy struggle, then we settled our differences in the most pleasurable way.’ He beamed at Keedy. ‘It was worth taking any amount of punishment for that.’

  For a brief moment, Keedy felt the warmth of her body again and the softness of her lips upon his. He tried to dismiss the memory and concentrate on his job.

  ‘I need to speak to you again, Mr Redmond,’ he said, seriously.

  ‘You are speaking to me, old chap.’

  ‘I’d rather do it when you’re properly dressed.’

  ‘You’re about my height and build,’ said Redmond, sizing him up. ‘I’ve got some spare kit at the house. I don’t suppose you’d fancy a game of tennis before you put the thumbscrews on me, would you?’

  ‘I’m sorry you take this so lightly, sir.’

  ‘It’s in my nature.’

  ‘You are now officially a suspect in a murder
inquiry.’

  ‘That’s nonsense. I’m the victim of Odele’s twisted sense of humour.’

  ‘Are you ready, Mr Redmond?’

  Keedy pointed to the exit. After exchanging a long, hard look with him, the dancer twirled his racquet expertly in his hand then led the way off court.

  There had been many times in his police career when Harvey Marmion was reminded that he had led a very conventional life. He now had another to add to his collection. As Gillian Hogg talked about her past, he realised that his own had been remarkably uneventful by comparison. Having run away from boarding school at seventeen, she’d been more or less disowned by her parents and had subsisted by taking on various jobs and by relying on the hospitality of friends. The one thing that her school had inculcated in her was a love of drama and she gravitated towards the West End, accepting the most menial employment if it got her through the doors of a theatre. Gillian eventually worked her way up to a post as an assistant stage manager that led, in turn, to fleeting appearances onstage. When she finally got a part in her own right, Simon Wilder, the former Stanley Hogg, was in the cast. They were lovers within a week.

  What staggered Marmion was the ease with which they’d reached the decision to divorce. In return for being allowed to keep their tiny flat in Archer Street, she had agreed to provide evidence of adultery on her part so that her husband appeared to be the injured party. Yet, at the same time, she revealed that he had been unfaithful to her on a number of occasions. Shockingly, Gillian had accepted his infidelity without complaint. No woman of Marmion’s acquaintance would behave like that. During his courtship of Ellen, he’d been roundly chastised by her if he so much as looked at another woman, however innocently. Yet here was a wife who condoned adultery as a normal and acceptable part of marriage.

  ‘To put it simply,’ said Gillian with a touch of pride, ‘I was the one person to whom he could turn in a crisis and, as you’ve heard, Simon had quite a few of those. He came to me the other night to complain yet again of Catherine’s treatment of him. When she could no longer dance, she became hostile and resentful.’