Murder Dancing
Lesley Cookman
Max Tobin brings his all-male dance company to Steeple Martin, with his new ballet Pendle, based on the infamous Pendle Witch Trials, due to be performed at the Oast Theatre. There have been unpleasant incidents during rehearsals in London, and Max asks Libby Sarjeant and her friend Fran Wolfe to look into them. To everyone’s surprise, the incidents continue at the Oast and their seriousness escalates until, inevitably, someone is murdered.
While the police look into the murder, Libby and Fran wonder why someone seemed so set against the ballet. Were occult forces at work, or was there a more worldly, personal motive?
Acknowledgements
The first acknowledgement I have to make is a sad one. Murder Dancing was inspired by Matthew Bourne’s ballet company, New Adventures, and in particular Jonathan Ollivier, whom I saw dance The Swan in 2014. Sadly, not long after starting this book, Jonathan was killed in a motorbike accident, aged only 38.
To more cheerful things – I apologise to the Police Forces of Great Britain for using and abusing them, as usual. They would never hold an investigation like this, and if I could get away without the police, I would. However, I have learnt that there are many readers who are secretly in love with DCI Connell, so perhaps I shall leave them in.
Unusually, the idea for this book did not come from my son Miles. The next one, however…
As always, thanks to my patient editor, Greg Rees.
WHO’S WHO IN THE LIBBY SARJEANT SERIES
Libby Sarjeant
Former actor, sometime artist, resident of 17, Allhallow’s Lane, Steeple Martin.Owner of Sidney the cat.
Fran Wolfe
Also former actor, occasional psychic, resident of Coastguard Cottage, Nethergate.Owner of Balzac the cat.
Ben Wilde
Libby’s significant other. Owner of The Manor Farm and the Oast House Theatre.
Guy Wolfe
Fran’s husband.Artist and owner of a shop and gallery in Harbour Street, Nethergate.
Peter Parker
Ben’s cousin. Freelance journalist, part owner of The Pink Geranium restaurant and life partner of Harry Price.
Harry Price
Chef and co-owner of The Pink Geranium and Peter Parker’s life partner.
Hetty Wilde
Ben’s mother. Lives at The Manor.
DCI Ian Connell
Local policeman and friend.Former suitor of Fran’s.
Adam Sarjeant
Libby’s son.
Sophie Wilde
Guy’s daughter.
Flo Carpenter
Hetty’s oldest friend.
Lenny Fisher
Hetty’s brother. Lives with Flo Carpenter.
Reverend Bethany Cole
Vicar of Steeple Martin.
Reverend Patti Pearson
Vicar of St Aldeberge’s.
Anne Douglas
Librarian, friend of Reverend Patti.
Ali and Ahmed
Owners of the eight-til-late in the village.
Sir Andrew McColl
Acclaimed theatre actor.
Tobin Dance Theatre (TDT to its friends)
Max Tobin
Company director and choreographer.
Owen Talbot
Max’s partner and director of the Tobin School.
Damian Singleton
Composer of Pendle.
Stan Willis
Stage and company manager.
Sebastian Long
Company assistant stage manager.
Cast of Pendle
Dan Washburn
Roger Nowell
Phillip Newcombe
Alizon Device
Jonathan Chandler
Demdike
Will Davies
Abraham Law
Tom Matthews
Chattox
Alan Neville
Elizabeth Device
Lee
John Law
Paul
Ensemble
Jeremy
Ensemble
Bernie
Ensemble
Paddy
Original Demdike
Gerry
Original Abraham Law
CONTENTS
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-one
Chapter Thirty-two
Chapter Thirty-three
Lesley Cookman
Shadows and Sins
Other Accent Press Titles
Chapter One
‘The Pendle Witches?’ said Libby Sarjeant. ‘A ballet?’
‘Sounds interesting,’ said Fran Wolfe. ‘But played by men?’
Sir Andrew McColl, dapper in a tweed suit and highly polished brown brogues, sat back in his armchair and crossed one elegant leg over the other.
‘The Witches in Macbeth have often been played by men,’ he said. ‘And this is called “Dance Theatre”, rather than ballet.’
‘And you’re talking to us why?’ asked Fran.
‘Max – the director – has been having some … er … trouble during rehearsal.’ Andrew looked at his nails.
Libby scowled suspiciously. ‘I said I’m never getting involved again.’
Andrew raised innocent eyebrows. ‘Did I ask you to?’
‘You were going to,’ said Fran, amused.
‘Yes, well.’ Andrew returned to his nails.
Ben Wilde, Libby’s significant other, sighed and got to his feet. ‘Another drink, anyone?’
The pub was quiet on this weekday lunchtime. Andrew had arrived, out of the blue as he often did, booked into the pub and then asked if he could meet Libby, Ben and Fran for a drink.
‘Tonic water, thank you, Ben,’ said Andrew.
‘Coffee, please,’ said Fran, who was driving.
‘A half, please,’ said Libby, who wasn’t.
‘Will you come back for dinner tonight, Fran? You and Guy?’ asked Andrew. ‘I’ve booked a table at Harry’s for eight thirty.’
‘How can I resist,’ said Fran with a smile. ‘I haven’t eaten at the Pink Geranium for weeks.’
‘Bribery,’ said Libby, with another scowl.
‘So,’ said Ben, arriving back at the table with a tray of drinks. ‘What is it this Max wants? And who exactly is he?’
‘Max Tobin. He’s the founder and choreographer of the company. They’re only small, so far, but they’re gaining a good reputation.’
‘And what problems has he been having?’ asked Fran.
‘He’s not sure what the reason is, but he’s had two of his principal danseurs leave and the others seem very jumpy. None of them will explain it.’
‘Danseurs? Is that a posh way of saying “dancers”?’ asked Libby.
‘Male dancers,’ said Fran. ‘Put simply.’
‘Ah. And they’re uncomfortable about s
omething?’
‘That’s what Max says.’ Andrew uncrossed his legs. ‘I was telling him about what led up to our concert last Christmas – he was in the audience, you see. And then he told me.’
‘And,’ said Ben again, ‘what does he want?’
‘Libby and Fran to look into it,’ said Andrew, and took a sip of tonic water.
Fran and Libby looked at each other.
‘And how exactly are we supposed to do that?’ asked Libby. ‘If they won’t talk to their boss, they certainly won’t talk to a couple of middle-aged amateur sleuths.’
‘I said you wouldn’t want to,’ said Andrew. ‘And you don’t want to go trailing up to London to the rehearsal rooms.’
‘Not particularly,’ said Libby.
‘So he had another idea.’
They all looked at him suspiciously.
‘Well,’ said Libby after a moment. ‘What?’
‘He’d like to hire the theatre for a trial run.’
Libby sat back in her chair, surprised.
‘Good God,’ said Ben.
‘Well, it’s logical,’ said Fran.
Andrew smiled. ‘Yes, it is. Then you’d be among them. They’d talk to you.’
‘Would they?’ Libby looked dubious.
‘They’re a small company. If you’d let them the rooms in the Manor, Ben, it would work very well.’ Andrew finished his tonic water and stood up. ‘I’ll leave you to think it over and see you tonight at Harry’s.’
‘What do we think?’ asked Libby, when Andrew had left the bar.
‘It would depend when they want to come,’ said Ben. ‘We don’t want to run into panto time.’
‘And we’ve got a few one-nighters,’ said Libby.
‘What about the end of October?’ asked Fran. ‘That would coincide with Halloween, just right for Pendle Witches.’
‘Bloody witches again,’ said Libby. ‘I’ve had enough of witches.’
‘They’re only fake witches, though, Lib,’ said Ben. ‘And Fran’s right. As long as they don’t want to come for too long we could do the last couple of weeks of October and the first in November. I’m assuming he wants to rehearse down here as well.’
‘Well, we could hardly get them to talk to us if all they were doing was performing, could we?’ said Libby. ‘Do you think Hetty will mind having them at the Manor?’
‘Of course she won’t, but I’m not letting her supply them with food. They can forage for themselves.’
‘I expect Harry will put on special arrangements for them,’ said Fran. ‘He’ll love having a pack of male dancers tittuping around.’
‘True.’ Libby finished her half pint of lager and stood up. ‘Now I’m going home to read up on the Pendle Witches. I saved all the information we found before.’
Libby and Fran had become entangled with local groups of witches before. In both cases the so-called rites were little more than a cover for unsavoury activities.
‘I’ll go home and toss up with Guy who’s going to drive tonight,’ said Fran.
‘Stay over,’ said Libby. ‘You can always get up early to get back and open the shop.’
‘Right,’ said Ben. ‘I’m going up to the estate office. I’ll check the theatre bookings and text Andrew some dates. Then he can get on to his friend Max before we meet this evening.’
At eight o’clock, Libby, Ben, Fran and Guy opened the door of The Pink Geranium, the restaurant owned by Harry Price and Peter Parker, and run by Harry as chef patron. Libby’s son Adam, doing duty as a waiter, met them in his long Victorian apron and showed them into the left-hand window where Andrew awaited them on the deep sofa, accompanied, to their surprise, by a very tall man in a very sharp suit.
Andrew rose gracefully and took Libby’s hand.
‘This is Max, my dear,’ he said.
Max Tobin also rose and bent over Libby’s hand.
‘Delighted to meet you,’ he said, in a voice like smooth gravel.
When introductions had been completed all round and Adam sent off for drinks, Max spoke again.
‘Andrew has told me you’ve very kindly made some time available for our Witches at your theatre.’ He looked at Libby. ‘And you’ll see if you can get anything out of my dancers about why they’re unhappy?’
‘I don’t promise,’ said Libby, looking uncomfortable. ‘They won’t know me, or Fran.’
‘I thought of a secret weapon,’ said Andrew with a smile. ‘After Ben had sent me the dates and I confirmed them with Max, I called Harry.’
‘You said at lunchtime you’d already booked the table,’ said Ben.
‘Ah, but Max said he wanted to come down, so I needed to add to my booking. And it occurred to me that Harry would make an excellent agony uncle.’ Andrew beamed round the table.
‘And I will.’ Harry, tall, blond and slightly raffish, appeared beside them flourishing bottles. ‘Pete, of course, will be standing guard over me like a bulldog.’
‘He’s more Afghan than bulldog,’ said Libby.
‘Peter’s my cousin,’ Ben explained to Max, who was looking faintly bewildered, ‘and Harry’s partner.’
‘In life, dearie,’ sighed Harry, ‘and in all things. Right, who’s having what?’
Harry departed with the orders, and Max laughed.
‘I remember him, of course,’ he said. ‘We came here after your concert, didn’t we?’
Andrew smiled. ‘We did. And that brings us back to why you’re bringing Pendle down here. Tell them all about it.’
Max picked up his gin and tonic and swirled it absently round the glass.
‘I suppose it started when I took a group of my boys to see a revival of Matthew Bourne’s Swan Lake.’
‘Oh, bliss,’ said Libby.
‘What’s that?’ asked Guy, frowning.
‘Matthew Bourne has a ballet company called New Adventures, and one of his ballets is a version of Swan Lake danced by men,’ explained Andrew.
‘Oh,’ said Guy.
‘Anyway,’ Max went on, ‘we talked about it, naturally, and they were very enthusiastic, all of them expressing a wish to do the same. I said we couldn’t do Swan Lake, but we could possibly do something similar.’
‘And you thought of the Pendle Witches?’ said Fran.
‘No, actually, it was one of the boys.’ Max smiled slightly. ‘He grew up “in the shadow of the hill” as he put it, and the whole area is a rather grisly tourist attraction. And he pointed out that these days the witches are often played by men in –’ he glanced at Andrew.
‘The Scottish play,’ the company chanted.
‘Exactly.’ Max smiled at them. ‘So we began to workshop it. The storyline and so on.’
‘What about music?’ asked Fran.
‘We workshopped without. Our rehearsal pianist extemporised a bit, and then offered to write it.’
‘Really? Is he experienced as a composer?’ asked Libby.
‘He’s written a lot, although it’s not often performed. He’s very young, but he’s been a rehearsal pianist for long enough that he knows what we need. And he’s just modern enough for it not to feel too classical and to be more accessible.’
‘So it all fell into place?’ said Ben.
‘It seemed to. We began proper rehearsals and it was all going well.’ Max shook his head. ‘Then my principal dancer – playing Demdike – started arriving late and behaving oddly. Eventually when I took him aside, he said someone had been playing tricks on him.’
‘What sort of tricks?’ asked Guy after a pause.
‘Leaving odd messages in his locker, that sort of thing.’
‘Messages about what?’
‘Oddly, they were all quotations from that play. From the Three Witches speeches, and Banquo’s description of them.’
‘Oh, yes,’ said Andrew, turning to the others. ‘Remember? “What are these/So wither’d and so wild in their attire,” and then it goes on “You should be women/And yet your beards forbid me to interpret/That you ar
e so.” That helps us see that the creatures could be either male or female.’
‘How did you call that up so quickly?’ asked Libby, admiring.
‘I’ve played Banquo a couple of times,’ said Andrew with a grin.
‘I played Maria in Twelfth Night three times and I’m not sure I could spout anything but “By my troth Sir Toby” and then it all goes blank.’
‘There’s nothing particularly threatening in that, though,’ said Fran.
‘What, Maria?’
‘No, idiot, Banquo’s speech.’
‘But there is in the witch’s description of what she does to the sailor,’ said Max.
‘Ah,’ said Andrew. ‘She makes him impotent.’
‘Does she?’ said Guy. ‘And what sailor?’
‘It’s sometimes cut,’ said Andrew, ‘it’s at the beginning of act one, scene three, before they meet Macbeth. The first witch describes what she will do to a sailor to punish his wife. Not relevant to the story as a whole, so, as I said, it’s occasionally cut.’
‘And that was one of the messages?’ said Fran.
Max nodded. ‘And after that, apparently, there were dead frogs. And a snake skin.’
‘The fenny snake!’ said Libby.
‘From the witches’ song,’ explained Andrew.
‘Oh, is that “Double trouble, cauldron … something”?’ asked Guy.
‘Nearly,’ said Andrew. ‘I won’t correct you.’
‘Oh, no, you mustn’t quote, must you?’ said Ben.
‘But you already have,’ said Libby, looking at Andrew. ‘Banquo’s speech.’
‘So I did.’ Andrew’s cheeks grew pink above his neat beard. ‘Unwarrantable showing off.’
‘So what happened after the fenny snake?’ asked Libby.
‘He left.’ Max sighed. ‘Pity. He was shaping up so well. He’s gone back to West End ensemble now. Better paid, of course.’
Adam arrived to show them to their table. When they were settled, Max resumed.
‘I thought that was it, and we would carry on as before. I recast Demdike, and then Chattox began experiencing the same sort of thing.’
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