‘Oh, well done, Flo,’ said Libby. ‘Did you tell her, Het?’
‘Course I did. Nosy old besom was up here this afternoon as soon as she heard.’
‘As long,’ said Ben, ‘as nobody decides to take a swipe at anybody in the churchyard after rehearsal, like they did last year.’
Chapter Fourteen
Max, who had entered unheard while Ben was speaking, groaned. ‘Oh, don’t say that!’
Libby turned to him. ‘Well in a way that was lucky for you. It brought you here.’
‘And that was luck? With Stan getting killed?’
Ben laid a hand on Libby’s arm as she opened her mouth. ‘Don’t say it, Lib.’ He looked at Max. ‘That was unnecessary.’
Max had the grace to look ashamed. ‘Sorry. Uncalled for, I know.’
‘Do you really think it was coming here that got him killed?’ asked Peter in an interested voice, though his eyes were snapping furiously.
‘No, of course not.’ Max sighed and rubbed his face with a hand.
‘Brought the killer with you.’ Hetty’s voice issued from the larder. Max looked startled.
‘She’s right,’ said Libby reasonably. ‘Sit down, Max.’ Max sat. ‘There’s only one reason I can think of that would mean coming to Steeple Martin was a contributory factor in Stan’s death.’
‘What’s that?’ Ben was frowning.
‘If the incidents in London were meant to stop the production and didn’t.’
‘But whoever it was wouldn’t have gone from cockerels and rats to murder!’ said Peter.
‘No. That’s why in a way I believe what Fran says.’
‘What? That there are two different people at work?’ said Max.
‘Well, the rat looks like the London incidents, doesn’t it? But the murder – it looks less thought-out.’
‘That’s true.’ Ben nodded. ‘Doesn’t get anyone any further, though.’
‘So are you going to use the hall to rehearse?’ asked Peter.
‘Is it suitable?’ Max turned to Libby, whose face darkened.
‘If you’re going to continue to be so ungrateful when everyone’s bending over backwards for you, I think we might have to cancel next week’s booking.’
After a short, shocked silence, Ben said, ‘She’s right, you know. We would be perfectly within our rights under the circumstances.’
Max put his head in his hands. ‘I don’t know what’s come over me.’
Peter raised an eyebrow at Libby. ‘Well?’
‘If,’ she said icily, ‘you’ll behave, I’ll take you over to see the hall. I think perhaps I won’t introduce you to the lady who organised this. She has a rather forthright manner.’
Ben suppressed a snort and Peter grinned widely.
Max looked up. ‘Thank you,’ he said quietly.
‘Do I get the key from Flo?’ Libby asked.
‘Here.’ Hetty retrieved a bunch of keys from her apron pocket. ‘Amy says keep her informed.’
‘Amy?’ asked Ben.
‘She’s the Maltby Close warden, isn’t she?’ said Libby.
‘I didn’t know they had one,’ said Peter.
‘Flo says they don’t need one, but several of them live alone, so it’s good there’s someone for them to turn to.’ Libby stood up. ‘Come on, Max.’
Max stood up and followed meekly to the door.
By now it was quite dark.
‘You know Ian and his team are searching all the bedrooms?’ said Libby as they walked down the drive.
‘Yes, he told me. They’ve already done ours at the pub.’ Max shoved his hands deep into his pockets. ‘Look, Libby, I’m really sorry about putting my foot in it back there.’
Libby shrugged. ‘It’s shock. You wouldn’t behave like that normally, I’m sure.’
‘No, I don’t think I would. I usually try desperately to keep the peace. I was always having to smooth things over for Stan.’
‘He didn’t strike me as being Mr Popular.’
‘No, although they all appreciated his – what shall I say? – business skills. He was very good at seeing they were paid and organising digs, that sort of thing.’
‘And was he a good stage manager?’
Max shrugged. ‘A bit finicky. He was always cross if the dancers messed up his set.’
‘Yes, I’ve known designers like that.’ Libby said with a grin. ‘He actually designed this set, didn’t he?’
‘Yes. It was experimental all the way, you see, so I couldn’t afford to spend money on the set.’
‘Very effective, though,’ said Libby. ‘We cross over here.’
They crossed over the high street and into Maltby Close. Libby indicated the larger house at the end of the row of what looked like smaller barn conversions, and were, in fact, the individual bungalows belonging to Flo and others of her age group.
They walked past these and on to the end. ‘That’s Amy’s house, back there, if you should ever need to speak to her, or give the keys back,’ said Libby. ‘And this, at the other end, is Carpenter’s Hall.’
She unlocked the big double doors, flicked up the lights and the room was revealed.
‘Good floor,’ said Max, bouncing lightly on the polished wood. Chairs were stacked up at either side of the room, and the shutters were down on a bar at the other end to the door.
‘They have tea dances in here,’ said Libby. ‘Our friend Flo was a champion ballroom dancer in her youth and insisted they had a proper sprung floor.’
‘She’s lucky they could afford it,’ said Max, prowling round the edges of the hall.
‘She could,’ said Libby. ‘She named it Carpenter’s Hall after her husband. This was converted from one of her husband’s barns and she had the rest of the bungalows built to match.’
‘I see. And she’s the one who said we could borrow the hall?’
‘Yes.’
‘I must go and thank her.’
‘Well, yes, but as I said, be very, very careful or she’ll blister your ears.’
Max grinned. ‘I’ll remember. Do we go now?’
‘Have you finished looking round?’
‘Yes. It’s perfect. And we only have to cross the road. There’s even a piano.’
‘Why do you need a piano?’
‘For Damian to play. Unless they’ve got a sound system.’
‘Sure to have,’ said Libby. ‘Check with Flo.’
Lenny opened the door to Libby’s tentative knock.
‘Come to say thank you, Len,’ she said. ‘Is Flo here?’
‘Here, gal.’ Flo appeared with the inevitable cigarette and squinted up through the smoke at Max.
‘I just wanted to say thank you very much, Mrs …’ he turned helplessly to Libby.
‘Carpenter,’ she said. ‘Like Carpenter’s Hall, remember?’
‘Just call me Flo.’ Flo turned to Libby. ‘Good-lookin’ fella, ain’t he?’
‘Spare his blushes, Flo!’ laughed Libby. ‘Seriously, it’s very good of you. I was going to ask Beth if they could have the church hall, but this is much better.’
‘And warmer,’ said Lenny. ‘And they got the littl’uns in the church hall of a morning.’
‘The toddler group, of course,’ said Libby. ‘So this is better all round.’
‘Thank you once again, Mrs – er – Flo,’ said Max. ‘And –’
‘Lenny.’ Lenny stuck out his hand. ‘I’m Hetty’s brother. Ben’s uncle.’
‘Lenny.’ Max shook hands looking slightly bewildered.
‘Come on, Max. I expect Flo was in the middle of cooking dinner,’ said Libby. ‘Bye, you two. See you at the weekend.’
‘Is everybody here related?’ asked Max, as they walked back towards the high street.
‘A lot of them,’ said Libby. ‘It goes back to hop-picking in the war.’
‘I’m sure I’ll understand that statement eventually,’ said Max, shaking his head.
‘Don’t worry about it,’ said Libby. ‘Know what?
We forgot to ask about the sound system.’
‘We can leave that for now,’ said Max. ‘Damian will probably enjoy playing his masterpiece again.’
‘It’s very atmospheric, isn’t it? Did he really just work it up while you were workshopping the piece?’
‘Yes, incredible, isn’t it? He started by playing pieces of well-known works and then began improvising. We all preferred the stuff he was making up as he went along.’
‘But then I suppose he had to score it for an orchestra? That’s awfully clever.’
‘Actually, it’s only about ten musicians, but they make a good sound, don’t they?’
‘Tremendous,’ said Libby. ‘I do hope it gets to go on. It would be such a shame if it has to be stopped.’
‘Yes,’ said Max with a sigh. ‘I’d feel bad for Alan, too. It was his idea, really.’
Libby gave him a quick, sharp look. ‘Yes, the boys were talking about that on our way home this afternoon. Alan seemed to think only you and Damian would get the credit.’
‘Did he?’ Max turned a shocked face towards her. ‘Oh, no, that’s not right. It would be billed as “From an idea by Alan Neville, music by Damian Singleton, choreography, Max Tobin.” That sounds right, doesn’t it?’
‘Yes, it does. Do tell him though. Not that he was complaining, he just seemed to take it for granted.’
‘He would. He’s one of the best, Alan. Most of them are great, but you get the odd wasp.’
‘Like Phillip,’ said Libby. ‘He’s amusing, though.’
‘And a good teacher, surprisingly. Dan’s perhaps a bit less committed than the others, but that’s because he’s got a new baby, and he’s dependable, especially in the non-dancing roles.’
‘Tom and Jonathan both seem like nice lads.’
‘They are. The ones I don’t know well are the auditionees.’
‘Paul, Jeremy and Bernie. Paul came with us this afternoon.’
Max looked at her. ‘What did you think?’
‘Bit – intense.’
‘Febrile,’ said Max.
‘Yes,’ said Libby, surprised. ‘That’s a good word. The others said he seemed very keen on folk customs. Did you find that?’
‘He was very interested in the story of the witches. Of course, it was more or less all set when he joined, so he took no part in the formulation of the piece.’ Max frowned. ‘I think he might have been trouble if he’d been around from the beginning.’
‘But you never suspected him of having anything to do with the incidents?’
‘Oh, no.’ Max shook his head. ‘For a start, they began before he joined, and he seemed to be more for the witches than against them. Because that’s what it seemed to be – someone against the witches. Don’t you agree?’
They had reached the top of the drive by now.
‘Do you want to tell them all about Carpenter’s Hall?’ said Libby. ‘They’ll all be lolling around the sitting-room, I expect.’
‘Yes, I will, and tell them we’ve booked out the whole dining room at the pub tonight. Harry’s got too many bookings to cope with us all. Will you join us?’
‘I think they’d probably be glad to be rid of me for an evening,’ said Libby with a grin, ‘but I’ll see what Ben says.’
As it happened, Hetty had cooked a roast chicken and asked Ben and Peter to stay for dinner.
‘Harry’s up to his ears,’ said Peter, ‘and doesn’t want me underfoot, so I’m happy.’
‘Me, too,’ said Libby, collapsing into a kitchen chair. ‘I feel as though I’ve been through a wringer.’
‘Rehearsal rooms sorted?’ asked Ben.
‘Yes, all done. Have you had to let anyone know about next week?’
‘No. As Ian says they can go on, there’s no need. We’ll need to work overtime to get everything up and running again when they let us in, but no one’s going to be put out.’
‘What about Stan’s family? Has he got any?’ asked Peter.
‘No idea.’ Ben shook his head. ‘But they’ll have been informed. Max and Sebastian will know the details.’
‘Early dinner tonight,’ said Hetty from the Aga. ‘If you want a drink first, better get it now.’
‘I’ll dig out a bottle of red,’ said Ben.
When drinks were poured and vegetables cooking, Libby said, ‘I think we ought to talk to the other two who joined the company with Paul.’
‘Why? You said Max told you that the trouble started before they joined.’ Peter was leaning back in his chair, his legs crossed at the ankles, the persistent lock of hair falling over his forehead.
‘Yes, but two things.’ Libby leaned her chin on her hands. ‘The onlooker sees more of the game, and second, one of them might have had a score to settle and taken inspiration from what had already happened.’
‘That seems highly unlikely.’
‘She’s right about the onlooker seeing more of the game,’ said Ben. ‘They might have seen tensions that wouldn’t have been obvious to regular members of the company.’
‘I’m sure Ian or one of his minions will have talked to them already,’ said Peter.
‘Not in depth, though,’ said Libby. ‘Not as in having a chat.’
‘And you can?’
‘Yes.’ Libby beamed. ‘I shall offer my services as gofer tomorrow. Seb will be being Stan, so I shall be Seb. I know where things are, so I shall be useful.’
‘Don’t you go getting yourself into trouble, gal,’ said Hetty, carrying a dish of succulent-looking glazed carrots to the table.
‘Oh, Het! What trouble could I get into in Carpenter’s Hall?’ said Libby. ‘I’ll be fine.’
Chapter Fifteen
Libby’s offer of help was gratefully received by Max and Sebastian.
‘Not that I’ll need much help while we’re in the hall over there,’ confided Sebastian, ‘as I won’t have anything to do, really. Just push the odd prop about, but no Kabuki or anything.’
‘What will you need me for, then?’ asked Libby. They were in the theatre, Ian having allowed them to collect a few essential bits of equipment.
‘Communications, mostly, I expect.’ Sebastian piled a variety of items into her arms. ‘We’ve no headsets over there, so I might need you to carry messages – mainly between me and Damian. God, I hope he doesn’t muff the piano.’
‘Why should he?’ asked Libby, surprised. ‘He wrote it.’
‘But he hasn’t played it for ages, has he? It’s all been the recorded version.’
‘Surely he wouldn’t have forgotten it in just these few days. He’s got the music scored, hasn’t he?’
‘I bloody well hope so,’ said Sebastian, looking like a worried chipmunk, twitching whiskers and all.
‘To be honest, Lib,’ said Ian, emerging from the auditorium, ‘I shall be glad to have them all out of the way for a bit. Good idea of yours.’
‘Flo’s actually,’ said Libby. ‘And they’ll still be within easy reach of your handcuffs.’
Ian gave her a wry grin. ‘As a matter of fact, I was tempted to get them out after I’d been through their rooms last night.’
‘Goodness! What horrors did you find?’
‘A fair amount of material that used to be described in the old days as being “within the meaning of the Act”. Considered harmless now, of course.’
Ian’s fastidious nostrils flared slightly. Libby was amused.
‘Come on, now, Ian! You’re a thoroughly modern, tolerant copper.’
‘Oh, I know. And I fought along with the best of them for equal rights and against homophobia in the force. Some things still bother me, though.’
‘Well, I shall keep all the little terrors out of your way unless you want them,’ said Libby. ‘Now I must go and let Sebastian into his new domain.’
It was a mild, damp, grey day, and as Libby and Sebastian trudged across the high street towards Maltby Close it began to rain.
‘Now they’ll all complain,’ sighed Sebastian.
‘Why? Because they’ll get wet?’
Sebastian shrugged, as far as he could under his load of props. ‘Oh, yes. They’ll complain about anything.’
‘They seem quite a nice bunch to me,’ said Libby.
‘Oh, they’re all right, I suppose. Stan couldn’t –’ He broke off.
Libby looked at him. ‘Couldn’t what?’
What she could see of his face had gone pink. ‘Nothing.’
‘Couldn’t stand them, were you going to say?’
‘N-no, not exactly.’
Libby struggled to unlock the door of Carpenter’s Hall without dropping her bundle. ‘Here we are,’ she said. ‘Let’s drop this lot on the stage and you’d better see what you need to do to get set up.’
Sebastian seemed to be relieved to be let off the hook, and scurried away to the other end of the hall. ‘Couldn’t stand them’? wondered Libby. Really? Not because some of them were gay, surely? Stan was gay himself. Then why? And not because they were what her mother used to call ‘theatricals’ – he was one, too.
The door banged shut behind her.
‘Morning!’ called Damian, sounding cheerful.
‘Morning!’ Libby called back. ‘Piano’s up here.’
‘Oh, don’t need that!’ Damian came up beside her and took some of her pile of drapes. ‘Where are these going?’
‘On the stage, I think. Why don’t you need the piano?’
‘There’s a sound system. I was a bit worried, to tell you the truth. I haven’t got the whole score down here with me, as I’ve got the master recording, but your Ben asked someone or other if there was a sound system here, and there is. So all I’ve got to do is find it.’ He grinned at her happily.
‘I expect that was Amy,’ said Libby. ‘Shall I go and ask her where it is?’
‘Oh, yes, that would be great. Is Seb here? I’ll see if I can do anything to help.’
He seems extraordinarily chirpy, thought Libby, as she made her way along Maltby Close to Amy’s house at the end. Considering there’s been a murder.
Amy, a large, jolly person wearing a wonderful, old-fashioned crossover apron, said she would come along and point things out.
‘There’s the kitchen, m’duck,’ she said. ‘Kettle, urn and so on. Flo says you was to have whatever you wanted.’
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