‘You seem to have done nothing but make tea this afternoon, Het,’ she said to Hetty, who stood leaning against the Aga, arms folded, watching Sebastian.
‘You want some?’ asked Hetty.
‘No, thanks. I’ve just come to cheer Seb up.’
Sebastian looked up. ‘Has he gone?’
‘No. He’s in there talking to Max, now.’
‘To Max? What for?’
‘It was Max he came to see. I think he holds him responsible for Stan’s death.’
Seb’s eyes widened. ‘He thinks Max killed Stan?’
‘No, I don’t think that, I think he thinks that because it happened while Stan was in Max’s company he bears the responsibility.’
‘That’s mad.’ But Seb wasn’t quite as firm about it as he could have been, thought Libby.
‘You’ve got a doubt, there, haven’t you?’ she said.
‘Well, I just thought – unless it was actually being in the company …’
‘Something to do with the company? Or the piece itself?’
‘Well, yes.’ Seb looked up at Libby. ‘After all, Stan didn’t like Pendle. He didn’t think we should be doing it.’
‘And you never knew why that was?’ said Libby.
‘No-o. But then, I never knew what was behind half of Stan’s moods. He was a very difficult person, you know.’
‘I gathered that,’ said Libby. ‘I wish there was someone else we could talk to about him. And don’t suggest his father.’
‘You know, I’m surprised he’s here.’ Seb looked back at his mug. ‘They didn’t see much of one another.’
‘I thought you didn’t know anything about his father?’ Libby narrowed her eyes at him.
‘I didn’t!’ said Seb quickly. ‘No, what I meant was, over the time I was living and working with him, he never once went to see his father.’
‘How do you know?’
‘He never went out,’ said Seb simply. ‘Only to work, occasionally to the theatre or another ballet company, and I always went with him.’
‘I see.’ Libby tapped a finger on the table. ‘But there are other forms of communication. Perhaps they were in touch by email, or on social media? Although I can’t see Willis senior as a user of either.’
‘I’m sure they weren’t.’ Seb shook his head.
‘But you do think now that it was the father’s criminal connections that got you off the hook?’
‘Well, you pointed it out.’ Seb wasn’t looking at her.
Ben put his head round the door.
‘He’s going.’
‘Willis?’
‘Yes. With a very bad grace.’
Libby got up and went out into the hall. Wally Willis was manoeuvring out of the front door, still talking.
‘Some bugger’s goin’ to pay for this. And where’s that little shit Sebastopol or whatever ’e calls ’imself? Causing my son all that trouble.’
‘What trouble was that, Mr Willis?’ asked Ian, still smooth.
But Wally Willis declined to answer, merely grunting again and stumping to his car, which Libby suddenly realised had a driver, who at Willis’s approach jumped out of the driving seat and went to open the rear door for his passenger.
‘Real “Mr Big” stuff,’ murmured Libby.
‘He’d like to think so,’ said Ian, turning back to the office. Ben and Libby watched the big car turn and go down the drive until they were certain their unwelcome guest had gone. Then they followed Ian into the office. Max was sitting in a chair by the window looking forlorn.
‘What did he say?’ asked Libby.
‘Very little to any purpose,’ said Ian. ‘Bluster, mostly. I think we’d spiked his guns. If he could have gone straight into the theatre and cornered Mr Tobin there – well, I think there might have been some damage.’
Max sighed. ‘But he’s right in a way, isn’t he?’
‘Right? How?’ said Ben.
‘He got murdered because he was employed by me. He was here because of me. It has to be something to do with Pendle.’
Ian regarded him thoughtfully. ‘Do you have any idea what he meant by Sebastian Long causing Stan Willis trouble?’
Max lifted his head. ‘Did he say that? I’ve no idea, I’m sorry. I know he got Seb out of a spot of bother, but it didn’t seem to cause him any trouble. The first I knew about it was when he turned up with Seb in tow and said he’d be working with him now.’
‘So did he ask you to pay him?’ said Libby.
‘No, but I did. Actually, Seb has turned out to be incredibly helpful, although I wouldn’t say his heart was in it.’
‘I think he’s hiding something,’ said Libby.
‘Everyone’s hiding something,’ said Ian. ‘Comes with the territory.’
‘Yes, but when I first talked to Seb about Stan’s father being a criminal – of course, I didn’t know he was still alive, then – he didn’t seem to know anything about it, yet now he’s obviously scared.’
‘Which argues that he’s found something out,’ said Ben. ‘But how? The police took all Stan’s belongings.’
Ian looked at Max. ‘Still not remembered what you went to the theatre for, Mr Tobin?’
‘No. Oh – you think I might have gone to look for something to do with Stan?’ He paused. ‘And – what? Seb came and bashed me on the head and took it?’
Ian shrugged. ‘Let’s have Mr Long in and ask him.’
‘Oh, I say!’ said Max, turning a pleasant shade of pink.
But Libby was already at the kitchen door.
‘Come along, Seb,’ she called. ‘Come and join the party.’
Seb shuffled along the corridor towards the office and sidled into the room behind her.
‘Did you follow Mr Tobin into the theatre on Sunday morning?’ Ian asked without preamble.
Seb’s mouth dropped open. ‘No, I did not!’ he stuttered. ‘I was having breakfast – Damian can tell you!’
‘I thought you only came down as he was going out of the front door?’ said Libby. ‘And Damian was only there a minute or two before you.’
‘Yes, but then I went and sat at Damian’s table. I didn’t follow him. You can ask Damian.’
Ian nodded and turned back to Max. ‘Is that right, Mr Tobin?’
‘As far as I know,’ said Max, frowning. ‘I remember leaving the pub.’
‘Would you mind leaving me and Mr Long alone for a minute or two?’ Ian said. ‘Sorry to turn you out again, Ben.’
‘That’s all right,’ said Ben, looking mystified.
‘Come on, Max,’ said Libby, looking annoyed.
‘Coming,’ said Max, looking intrigued.
They all stood outside the office staring at each other.
‘What’s that about?’ whispered Max.
‘I expect he wants to ask Seb what he’s hiding, and if he’s found anything out over the last few days. There’s got to be something,’ said Libby. ‘And how did you recognise the car? Seb said you did.’
‘He came to pick Stan up one day. Stan saw the car and said “That’s all I need, my bloody father.” Or something like that.’
‘Seb said they never saw one another. Why didn’t he see the car?’
Max shrugged. ‘I think it was before Seb joined us.’
‘So perhaps when Stan was asking for his help,’ Libby said to Ben.
‘I’d better go back and make sure they’re packing up.’ Max sighed and went out.
‘I’ll go over and help,’ said Ben. ‘What are you going to do?’
‘I have no idea. Shall I wait here for you?’
‘If you like. Ian might confide in you when he finishes with Seb.’
‘Some hopes.’ Libby gave him a peck on the cheek and went to join Hetty in the kitchen. A few moments later Ian came in.
‘Sorry about that, Lib,’ he said with a grin. ‘I know you were dying to stay.’
‘Well, I was. I thought you were going to ask Seb what he’d learnt in the last few days. Di
d you?’
‘I did. From what you said, it seems he now knows more than he did when Stan died. But he wouldn’t tell me.’
‘Do you think it’s important?’
‘I think it might be what got Max banged over the head. But to be honest, I can’t see that Wally Willis has got anything to do with it. I certainly don’t think he had his son killed.’
‘Had him killed?’
‘Well I doubt if he could have managed it himself, don’t you? He can hardly move. No, I think we’ll have to keep on poking around in the backgrounds of all these dancers.’
‘Have you asked at their home addresses? All that sort of thing?’ said Libby.
‘We’ve made enquiries where we thought we needed to,’ said Ian repressively. ‘We’re good at that.’
‘Sorry,’ said Libby, feeling a blush creep up her neck. ‘I’ll shut up now.’
Chapter Twenty-eight
‘I was thinking,’ said Libby. ‘I could perhaps pop up to London to see Andrew.’
Ben looked at her, surprised. ‘What for? He’ll be down on Saturday.’
‘I thought I might be able to find out more about some of the dancers.’
‘Libby! Stop poking your nose in – and anyway, what would Andrew know about Max’s dancers?’
‘He might be able to introduce me to the school.’
‘They’ve got the week off, remember? And besides, the students are coming down tomorrow.’
‘Thursday,’ said Libby and sighed. ‘So there’s no point in going to London?’
‘No, of course not. And Ian will have looked into anything he thinks necessary. He’s been up to London himself, hasn’t he?’
‘Yes,’ said Libby, ‘but he wouldn’t say why.’
Ben laughed. ‘Oh, Libby, you’re priceless!’
‘But not in a good way,’ said Libby, with another sigh. ‘If only …’
‘If only what?’
‘Well, I want to be rid of the whole shebang, but while they’re still here, and things like Wally Willis arriving keep happening, we can’t. And that means I want to know what happened.’
‘That’s convoluted, but I think I know what you mean.’ Ben patted her shoulder. ‘Never mind, tonight they start their run and things will be different. Have you got enough people for front of house?’
‘Fran’s coming up and Bob the butcher said he’ll come in. I’ve got to be on the bar. That should be enough.’
‘And will keep your mind off murder,’ said Ben comfortably.
Libby, left alone, looked in at the rehearsal and finally went to see if she could help Harry with the dancers’ lunch.
Donna, Harry’s right-hand woman, back part-time now her toddler was at nursery, waved her into the kitchen.
‘No wonder you can leave the caff at lunchtimes with Donna here,’ said Libby.
‘I’m just hoping she won’t nip off and have another baby,’ said Harry, slicing lettuce at eye-watering speed. ‘Here – wash your hands and you can carry on with this.’
‘I shall be slow,’ said Libby, taking off her cape and going to one of the sinks.
‘I don’t care. I just need help. Have you found out anything new?’
Libby told him about the visit of Wally Willis.
‘But Ian doesn’t think he’s got anything to do with the murder, and actually, I agree. He did seem properly upset about it – in a funny way.’
‘Complete red herring, then?’
‘Yes.’ Libby frowned. ‘Although I can’t help thinking that there’s something about him …’
‘How do you mean? Look, don’t stop chopping while you think. I thought birds were supposed to be good at multi-tasking?’
‘Birds, Harry Price? Bit outdated, isn’t it? And yes, of course we’re good at it. But what puzzles me about Stan and Wally Willis is that young Sebastian thought Stan had nothing to do with his father. Yet we’re certain that it was Wally who got the drugs barons off Seb’s back.’
‘Drugs barons? Blimey, gel, that’s going it a bit, isn’t it?’
‘Well, you know, the people who were hounding Seb for money. I told you all about that, didn’t I?’
‘Tell me again.’
Libby repeated the whole story.
‘Sounds a very odd set-up altogether, if you ask me,’ said Harry. ‘All this denial stuff. Doesn’t ring true.’
‘I agree, but Seb assures me he isn’t gay, and says he didn’t have that sort of relationship with Stan.’
Harry started packing his baskets with food. ‘Shove that lettuce in here,’ he said handing over a large plastic container. ‘What I think is that Stan and his father did see one another, whatever young Seb thought – and he could be lying. At least, I bet they were in touch by text or email or something.’
‘I asked him that. He said not.’ Libby was washing her hands again.
‘And Seb didn’t like Stan. I bet he’s hiding something.’
‘Who, Seb?’
‘Course. Sure to be.’
‘I don’t know,’ said Libby doubtfully. ‘And as for Stan being against the whole production –’
‘You didn’t tell me that,’ said Harry, draping Libby’s cape over her shoulders. ‘Come on, you can carry that basket.’
‘I can’t remember what you know and what you don’t know,’ said Libby, following him out of the restaurant and smiling at Donna.
‘Let’s go over it on the way up the drive,’ said Harry. ‘And I will treat you to one of my witty insights into the problem.’
Libby, interrupting herself frequently, went back over the whole story.
‘The trouble is,’ she said at the end, ‘what we knew at the beginning – or even the middle – is different to what we know now.’
‘That, petal, is self-evident. Just think: if you knew everything as soon as a crime was committed, you’d pick up the criminal with one hand and open the prison door with the other. Simple.’
‘Hmm,’ said Libby. ‘The problem is people concealing things because they think it will make them or someone else look bad.’
‘It often does,’ said Harry. ‘Come on, let’s go and feed the hungry horde.’
Libby recognised the state of nervous tension and excitement emanating from the dancers and felt a sympathetic frisson in her own abdomen. Some of them were too wound up to eat, others ate more than usual. Max watched over them with worried benevolence.
‘They’ll rest this afternoon,’ Owen told her as she helped him to coffee. ‘Except they won’t, of course.’
‘Is there anyone special coming tonight, do you know?’
‘Not as far as I know,’ said Owen. ‘The school’s coming down tomorrow and various influential people are coming Friday and Saturday, but Max wanted them to get used to an audience before putting them under extra pressure. I don’t think any of their friends and relations are coming. It’s a bit far out for them.’
‘Real life in the sticks,’ said Libby, with a grin.
Owen looked embarrassed.
‘It’s all right, we are off the beaten track as far as London goes, although we have commuters who drive to the station in Canterbury for the train every day. But it’s a long way to come for a performance. And I expect all the aforesaid friends and relations will go to performances when you transfer to London.’
‘If we transfer to London,’ said Owen gloomily.
Libby left them to it and went home. Unable to settle, she soon went out again and went to visit Flo and Lenny to tell them about Wally Willis.
‘Oh, yeah, I remember that,’ said Flo, when Libby told her about the orgies mentioned at the trial. ‘I reckon it was all ’ushed up. You didn’t ’ear so much about kiddy-fiddling in them days.’
Libby made a face. ‘What a horrible expression.’
Flo shrugged. ‘’Orrible business. I mainly remember the murders ’e was supposed to be mixed up in. And there was that burning. Remember, Len?’
‘Burning?’ Libby’s ears pricked up.
‘Supposed to be like some old, mad monks or something,’ put in Lenny.
‘Medmenham!’ breathed Libby.
‘Med what?’ asked Lenny and Flo together.
‘Medmenham. The Mad Monks of Medmenham. They were what came to be known as the Hellfire Club back in the eighteenth century. They were aristocrats who met secretly and indulged in all sorts of weird practices.’
‘Practices?’ repeated Flo.
‘Well they drank a lot, and had a lot of women.’
‘That don’t mean much,’ said Lenny.
‘No, but there was a lot more besides,’ said Libby. ‘Devil-worship and Black Masses, that sort of thing.’
‘Oh, not that again!’ said Flo. ‘You bin messing around with “that sort of thing” before. Not nice.’
‘I agree it isn’t nice. But I thought of this connection before, and now it’s beginning to make sense.’
‘Bugger me, gal, if you don’t take the biscuit.’ Flo shook her head. ‘Drink yer tea.’
As soon as she decently could, Libby left Flo and Lenny and on her way home rang Fran.
‘Well, I do see there is a connection with the threats of burning, but is it enough of a connection? It only connects with the incidents in London, not with Stan’s murder.’
‘Should I mention it to Ian?’
‘I don’t think so,’ said Fran. ‘He’ll know about this burning in Willis’s past already and he’ll have looked into it if he thinks it’s necessary.’
‘I suppose so,’ said Libby. ‘I’m going to look it up when I get home anyway.’
Back at number seventeen and awash with Flo’s strong tea, she opened the laptop and began a search through Wally Willis’s past villainy. To her surprise, although she found several references and contemporaneous reports, Willis was barely mentioned in connection with the outrage, most journalists preferring to concentrate on the similarity to Francis Dashwood’s infamous club she had mentioned to Flo and Lenny. Rumours had apparently been circulating about a rejuvenated Hellfire Club, which chimed with what Libby already knew about Willis and his associates, but now, the burning of a member of the minor aristocracy on a deserted heath not far from the Abbey itself made the connection with Dashwood’s Mad Monks a media dream, although with no social media, internet or mobile phone networks back then the coverage was limited to radio, newspapers and some television news.
Murder Dancing Page 20
