‘OK. I’m hoping to get away from here over the weekend. I had hoped perhaps the company would go back to London for the weekend, but Max wants to keep them working on the assumption that he will be allowed to open next week. And I’ve had enough of dancers.’
‘Poor Hetty will have to stay there.’
‘And Peter, too.’ Libby sighed. ‘Oh, well, I suppose I’ll have to stay too, then.’
‘You can come down here for the day, if you like. Or you and Ben could come down for supper tomorrow night and stay over.’
Libby brightened. ‘Oh, yes! That’s a great idea. I’ll tell Ben.’
‘I’d ask him, actually,’ said Fran.
‘I’m always diplomatic,’ said Libby.
Fran’s laugh could be heard in Canterbury.
Chapter Seventeen
On Saturday, there was still a police presence at the theatre, but it was understood that Ian had taken himself and a colleague up to London. Max took the company over to Carpenter’s Hall in the morning, Ben went off to the estate timber yard, Libby went shopping and Harry said he couldn’t take lunch to the dancers as Saturday was his busiest lunchtime in the restaurant.
‘You should have heard them,’ Max told Libby later that afternoon when he called in to see her. ‘I tried to tell them it had been a perk, and they were very lucky to have had it every day, but it was as though they’d been deprived of basic human rights.’
‘What did you do?’ Libby was amused.
‘Seb and Damian went to the little shop and bought every sandwich they had.’
‘Well, at least they’re handmade,’ said Libby.
Max smiled and fidgeted with his mug. Libby had supplied tea and was now waiting to supply sympathy, which she felt sure was going to be demanded.
‘Have you learnt anything more from the boys?’ he asked eventually.
‘Your boys? No. Apart from the fact that it was drugs which got Seb into trouble when Stan rescued him.’
‘Not entirely unexpected.’ Max looked dissatisfied. ‘At least Seb hasn’t got a motive.’
‘No.’ Libby was surprised. ‘Did you think he might have?’
‘He was the closest to Stan. And I was sure he didn’t really like him.’
‘Difficult situation given they were living together.’ Libby was unwilling to say anything else.
‘Mmm.’ Max took a sip of tea and put his mug down. ‘Has your policeman said anything to you?’
‘No. Well, he wouldn’t. He’s not allowed to discuss cases with members of the public.’ Libby crossed her fingers.
‘But you’ve helped him in the past.’
‘That doesn’t make any difference.’
‘But you can make suggestions?’
Libby gave him a wary look. ‘How do you mean?’
‘If you hear something you can pass it on, can’t you?’
‘If I think it’s relevant. Anybody can, and should. If you hear anything, you should tell the police.’ Libby squinted at him. ‘Have you heard something, then?’
‘Not really.’ Max was fidgeting again.
‘Yes, you have. That was why you came, wasn’t it?’
‘You’re too shrewd for your own good,’ said Max with an attempt at a grin.
‘Nosy, is what most people say. Shrewd is polite. Now, come on, out with it.’
Max sighed. ‘It’s not much, really. I just happened to overhear the two new boys –’
‘Which two?’
‘Jeremy and Bernie.’ Max was surprised. ‘Why?’
‘Not Paul, then?’
‘No-o. Why do you say that?’
‘Just go on.’
‘Well, it was about him, actually. You know they were all auditionees?’
‘Yes.’
‘They’ve stuck together to a degree because they’re all new to the company.’ Max stared into the fire.
‘And?’ prompted Libby.
‘Jeremy and Bernie were talking about him.’
‘I gathered that,’ said Libby, after another moment’s silence. ‘What about him?’
‘Apparently, he got thrown out of a panto chorus.’
‘That’s unusual, isn’t it? What for?’
‘That’s the trouble, they didn’t say. They both obviously knew all about it – whether they were in it as well, I don’t know. But it sounded – I don’t know – nasty.’ Max looked up anxiously.
‘I see what you mean.’ Libby frowned at her mug. ‘How can you find out what happened? Has he got a CV? Wouldn’t it list all the productions he’s been in?’
‘Not always. We can check up on, say, the most recent, and anything we’re familiar with, but it’s only too easy for a dancer to leave something off. Something he’s not proud of, or a flop.’
‘And they get in on audition, anyway.’
‘Yes. And those three were the best. He’s a good dancer. Got a sort of inner energy. He can look really evil.’
‘You said before that he might have been trouble if he’d been in on the beginning of the project.’
‘Yes, and what I heard today seemed to confirm it. Sounds as if he’s trouble in a company.’
‘But was he around long enough to cause the problems in London?’
‘Not the early ones.’ Max made a face. ‘But certainly the threats of burning and the cockerel.’
‘I don’t suppose Bernie and Jeremy would talk to me if I asked them about him, would they?’
‘I don’t see why not. You could try.’
‘In an oblique fashion,’ said Libby. ‘Being tactful, you know.’
Max grinned. ‘Aren’t you always?’
‘Ben and I are away tonight, but we’ll be back tomorrow. I’ll track you down then. Are you keeping them working tomorrow?’
‘Probably, although I’ll suggest they take some time off in the afternoon. They’ve worked really hard.’
‘They certainly have, and they’ve all had a dreadful shock.’ Libby stood up. ‘I’ll have to turn you out now, as I have to get ready to go out, but I’ll see you tomorrow.’
Libby reported this conversation to Fran as they stood in the latter’s kitchen broaching the first bottle of wine a couple of hours later.
‘I would have thought it would be easy enough to do,’ said Fran, decanting steamed broccoli into a dish. ‘Just sit down with them and ask their advice on panto chorus.’
‘All of them?’
‘No, those two Max was talking about.’
‘How do I separate them from the others?’
‘I expect they tend to stick together. Isn’t that what Max said?’
‘I could try. But Paul might be sticking to them, too.’
‘He doesn’t seem to have done so yet, despite what Max told you. He went with you to Grey Betty, didn’t he?’
‘Yes.’ Libby picked up the bowl of broccoli and the bottle of wine and carried them into the sitting-room.
‘Now stop talking about murder and investigations while we eat,’ said Guy, taking his place at the table. ‘I don’t want my salmon ruined.’
After dinner, the men cleared the table while Libby and Fran settled before the huge fireplace.
‘Go on,’ said Fran, as Guy hovered by the kitchen door. ‘You know you’re dying to go to the pub.’
‘And you’re dying to talk about murder,’ said Ben with a grin. ‘See you later.’
‘Much more comfortable,’ said Libby, with a sigh of relief as the front door closed.
‘Poor men,’ said Fran.
‘Not a bit of it. It’s a treat for them.’ Libby reached for the current wine bottle. ‘And we can speculate to our heart’s content.’
‘You mean you can.’
‘All right, I can. But you can insert sensible caveats.’
‘The most sensible of which would be stay out of it, but I don’t see that being popular.’
‘We were asked in,’ said Libby. ‘And Max came to me today. I’d feel I was letting him down if I backed away.’
/> ‘How many times have we had this sort of conversation,’ sighed Fran. ‘Pass the bottle.’
‘So, go on. What should I say to Jeremy and Bernie?’
‘What do they normally do at this time of year, which pantomimes have they done, is the discipline very different, how many of the company had they met before.’
Libby nodded. ‘Makes sense. And just play it by ear after that?’
‘You’ll have to. They won’t have read the script.’
‘Why don’t you come back with me?’
‘Guy’s closed tomorrow – it wouldn’t be fair. I’ll come up on Monday. And meanwhile, I’ve had another thought.’
‘What?’ Libby sat up straight.
‘What about those other two who left. The original Demdike, was it?’
‘Yes, and Chattox. I can’t remember their names but I can find out.’
‘They were frightened off, weren’t they? Would they be angry that the production they helped to form was going on without them?’
Libby shrugged. ‘They had the choice, didn’t they? They can’t really complain.’
‘But perhaps they thought it should be cancelled and would be if they left. They might feel that they’d been forced out.’
‘Maybe. I suppose I could ask a few more questions.’
‘But don’t get up Ian’s nose. I’m sure he’ll have asked about them, too.’
‘He went to London today. Perhaps that’s what he’s doing.’
‘There’ll be a lot to do at the London end. That’s where the whole thing started, after all, and where the company’s based.’
They were quiet for a moment, both staring into the fire.
‘Do you know, I’m actually surprised Ian’s letting them open at all,’ said Libby.
‘So am I, but he didn’t want to let them go back to London, did he? So it was an excuse to keep them here.’
‘You mean he might pull it at the last minute?’
Fran nodded. ‘Suppose he finds one of the dancers is guilty? He’d have to then.’
‘Not if it was a minor character. They could probably still do it …’
‘I don’t mean from their point of view. I mean from his.’
‘Oh.’ Libby thought about it. ‘I don’t really see why.’
‘Immaterial at the moment, anyway. We’ll have to see what happens.’
‘It’s been kept very low-profile in the media. Once it gets out we’ll have all sorts of journalists and photographers crowding up the drive.’
‘Max isn’t very famous,’ said Fran. ‘It shouldn’t be too bad. Not as if they’ve got someone in the cast – do you say “cast” for ballets? – who’s an international star.’
‘No,’ said Libby, thinking back to last Christmas’s concert, which had featured an international star.
‘Meanwhile, I suppose you just keep on keeping on, don’t you?’ said Fran. ‘I hope you’re getting paid for all this.’
‘Oh, yes. Max, Ben and Hetty thrashed out a deal between them, and Harry struck his own about the lunches. Flo’s donating use of Carpenter’s for nothing.’
‘Must be costing a lot.’
‘Yes. I don’t know how much, but think what he’s got to lose if Pendle doesn’t go ahead.’
‘He won’t make much out of a few days’ run in Steeple Martin.’
‘No, but if it goes well it’s booked into a London theatre. You know that.’
‘Oh, yes.’ Fran smiled. ‘I remember. “Off Broadway”.’
‘Yes.’ Libby smiled back. ‘I do hope everything’s all right. I’ve got quite fond of them.’
‘Even your little wasp?’
‘Yes, even him. The only one I really can’t take to is Paul.’
‘The strange one who’s into folklore and you want to talk to the others about?’
‘Yes. Gives me the creeps.’
‘Well, if he gets thrown out of pantos I’m not surprised.’
Libby shrugged. ‘Oh, well. Maybe I’ll find out tomorrow.’
‘One thing I’m surprised about,’ said Fran, looking curiously at her friend. ‘Why aren’t you more alarmed by all this? The rat, the attack with the Kabuki and now an actual murder. In your own theatre.’
Libby looked surprised. ‘I don’t know. It doesn’t make sense, does it. I should be scared, shouldn’t I?’
‘Certainly nervous,’ said Fran. ‘But you seem remarkably calm.’
‘Well, so are you.’
‘But I’m not closely involved. Don’t you worry that whatever is going on, someone might try something with you? Or with Hetty? All the dancers are staying with her.’
‘Oh, God,’ groaned Libby, ‘don’t say that! Now I’ll have to move into the Manor for the duration.’
Fran was amused. ‘Talk it over with Ben. Perhaps he can camp out in his office.’
On Sunday morning, Ben and Libby took Fran and Guy out for breakfast at Mavis’s Blue Anchor cafe at the end of Harbour Street.
‘It always feels decadent, going out for breakfast,’ said Libby. ‘The younger generation seem to do it all the time.’
‘If they bother to get up at all,’ said Guy.
‘I wonder if the dancers bother to get up on their days off?’ said Fran. ‘Sophie doesn’t.’ Guy’s daughter Sophie lived above the gallery and shop.
‘Are you actually closing today, then?’ asked Ben.
‘Yes. Once we’re into November I’ll have to open for at least half the day, but I thought I’d take this one and next off. So we’re coming up to see the show next Saturday.’
‘And stay overnight? Good idea,’ said Libby. ‘So we can return the compliment.’
‘Meanwhile, we’d better get back and see if there are any developments,’ said Ben. ‘I know Max wanted the boys to have some time off today, and we don’t want them plaguing the life out of Mum.’
‘That’s true,’ said Libby. ‘They do seem to be treating her like a universal Aunt.’
In fact, when they arrived back at number seventeen, it was to find a deputation of dancers on the doorstep.
‘What’s wrong?’ Libby stumbled out of the Range Rover.
‘We can’t get into the theatre,’ said Will Davies.
‘You’re not allowed into the theatre,’ said Ben, following Libby.
‘But Max is in there,’ said Phillip.
‘How do you know that?’ asked Libby.
‘He told us that was where he was going earlier. We thought he wanted us to go to the hall to rehearse, and he said not just yet, he had to go to the theatre.’ Dan Washburn looked round at the others, who nodded in confirmation.
‘And then he didn’t come back, so we followed him,’ said Phillip. ‘And we couldn’t get in.’
Ben got back into the Range Rover, followed by Libby.
‘Don’t worry,’ he called out of the window. ‘We’ll go and see.’
‘Oh, God,’ muttered Libby. ‘What’s happened now?’
Chapter Eighteen
‘The most likely thing,’ said Ben, as he bumped the Range Rover over the rutted track across the Manor land, ‘is that he went in and got locked in because he didn’t know about the self-locking mechanism on the main doors.’
‘But I thought the police were there?’ said Libby, hanging on to the grab bar.
‘Obviously they aren’t. Ian may have sent an all clear.’
They drew up outside the theatre and Ben unlocked the back door.
‘Hello!’ he called out, and switched the lights on in the scenery dock.
Libby went to switch on the worker lights and auditorium lights from the prompt corner. There was no sign of Max.
‘Check the dressing rooms,’ said Ben. ‘I’ll go up to the control box.’
Libby, dreading what she might find, went to check the dressing rooms. They were empty of everything but make up and costumes.
‘Found him!’ Ben’s shout echoed through the building. Libby ran across the stage and up through the auditorium to the
spiral staircase leading to the sound and lighting box. Arriving, breathless, at the top, she found Ben with a very sorry-looking Max, who was sitting in one of the swivel chairs with his head in his hands. Libby breathed a sigh of relief.
‘What happened?’
‘He said he came in here to find something and before he knew what was happening something hit him over the head and that was that. I’ve called Ian and an ambulance.’
‘Don’t want an ambulance,’ mumbled Max.
‘Look, mate,’ said Ben, ‘when the same thing happened to me a couple of years ago, I said I didn’t either. But they made me go, and I’m glad I did. Do you want anyone to go with you?’
‘There’s someone at the door,’ said Libby. ‘I’ll go and open up.’
Outside she found a huddled group of dancers and a police patrol car. The dancers looked frightened, the policeman bored.
‘DCI Connell reported an incident,’ he said, shouldering through the dancers, who now looked affronted.
‘Yes, come in officer.’ Libby stood back for him to pass her. ‘Up those stairs.’ She turned to the dancers. ‘Nothing to worry about. You go back to the Manor and we’ll come and see you in a bit.’
‘What about Max?’ asked Jonathan.
‘He’s had an accident, but he’ll be perfectly all right. They’re going to take him to hospital just to be on the safe side.’
The dancers had gone back to looking frightened and muttered among themselves.
‘Go on,’ urged Libby. ‘I’ll tell you more when I can.’
They moved off towards the Manor and, after a moment, Libby followed.
‘Hetty,’ she said, dashing into the kitchen, ‘the boys have all come back here – Max has had an accident. Can you rustle up some coffee for them?’
Hetty, with her usual admirable restraint, simply nodded. Libby dashed back out again. As she got to the theatre doors, she heard the ambulance coming up the drive, and waited for the paramedics. After showing them where to go, she sat down at one of the little tables in the foyer and waited for her heartbeat to slow down.
‘He doesn’t want anyone to go with him,’ Ben said, coming down the staircase, ‘But someone should. I’ll go. Will you come and get us – or just me if they decide to keep him in?’
‘Of course, but wouldn’t it be better if I just followed the ambulance?’
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