Murder Dancing (12 page)

‘If you're sure,' said Peter.

‘Come on,' said Harry. ‘I've got to get up in the morning, even if you haven't, and I expect at some point someone will come to ask
us
questions, won't they?'

‘Why us?' Peter looked surprised.

‘To see if we heard any suspicious remarks when we were doing lunch.'

‘I doubt it,' said Peter, ‘but I suppose Ian might find it worthwhile getting our impressions.'

They said goodnight and left Libby and Ben sitting at the kitchen table.

It was another half an hour before they heard voices and Ian himself came into the kitchen. He looked surprised to see them.

‘I thought you'd have gone home to bed!'

‘We didn't want to leave Hetty in the house on her own,' said Ben. ‘Under the circumstances.'

‘No, of course.' He joined them at the table. ‘I've brought most of the dancers back here and we'll finish questioning them in the morning. I've talked to Tobin, Long and Singleton, and again, they've been asked to be available in the morning.'

‘What about the bedroom?' asked Libby.

‘Nothing so far. Now I'm going to ask you to go home, and I shall want to talk to you tomorrow to get your impressions of everyone. Please, Libby, do
not
start asking any questions of these people. Your job is finished.'

Chapter Twelve

‘What do think we ought to do?' Libby said the following morning. ‘Stay here, or go to the Manor? We won't be able to go to the theatre, will we?'

‘I think we ought to go to the Manor,' said Ben. ‘If all those boys have got to stay cooped up there Hetty's going to have to provide tea and coffee, so we ought to help.'

‘Do you think Ian will let Harry take lunch up there?'

‘I don't see why not. It depends if he's letting them go.'

‘What, back to London? I shouldn't think so. They're all suspects, aren't they?'

‘Yes, I suppose so. Come on then. We'll buy some extra biscuits on the way.'

Hetty had already wheeled the big urns into the sitting-room, where various young men lay draped disconsolately over the furniture. They greeted Ben and Libby with mildly hopeful expressions, then sank back into torpor. Libby emptied a packet of biscuits onto a plate and called out, ‘Help yourselves', then rejoined Hetty in the kitchen.

‘That Ian's been in,' said Hetty. ‘He asked what we did about lunch and I told him Harry brought it. He said we could do the same today.'

‘I'll call Harry then,' said Ben. ‘Where's he interviewing people?'

‘Theatre,' said Hetty. ‘One by one.'

‘How grim,' said Libby.

At just about twelve thirty, when Harry was due to appear with the lunch, Ian came into the kitchen.

‘Can I talk to you two, now?' he said.

‘Ben's in the office, shall we go in there?' asked Libby. ‘And do you want coffee? You look shattered.'

He smiled grimly. ‘I am rather, and yes, coffee would be great.'

‘Go along then,' said Hetty gruffly. ‘I'll bring it.'

‘She's nice, your mother-in-law,' commented Ian as he followed Libby along the passage.

‘Mother-in-law-elect,' said Libby. ‘Not a real one.'

She let Ian have the most comfortable chair and perched herself on the old bentwood chair by the window. Ben's estate office hadn't changed at all since she'd known it, and probably not since his father took over.

‘I just want to go over a few things you told me last night before we knew there was murder involved,' said Ian. ‘Can you repeat the sequence of events from when Tobin first told you about the incidents in London?'

Libby patiently and obediently – she was getting used to police investigations – began the story from when Sir Andrew had turned up at the pub and asked for their help.

‘Of course, he asked for Fran's help, too. I think Max was quite impressed by Fran.'

‘And has Fran had any insights about the case?' asked Ian, smiling gratefully as Hetty brought in coffee on a tray.

‘No – oh, except when she said that the incidents here were by a different person.'

‘From the one in London?'

‘Yes. It was just one of those things she knew, apparently. She has no idea why.'

‘Is she coming over today?'

‘I've told her about last night on the phone, but she didn't say she was coming. Why?'

‘Because it might be interesting to see if she came up with the same theory about the murder.'

‘If she thought the Kabuki incident was by someone different – surely it's the same person,' said Ben.

‘We might be meant to think so,' said Ian. ‘Anyway, go on, Libby.'

Libby continued her story up to and including the night out with Jonathan and Tom. ‘And that's about it,' she concluded. ‘And you know what we were doing last night.'

Ian's chin remained sunk on his chest. Libby looked uneasily at Ben.

‘Looks as though you were right,' said Ben eventually.

Ian sat up. ‘Yes, it does.' He stirred his coffee thoughtfully.

‘What made you think it was serious?' asked Libby cautiously.

He looked across at her and smiled. ‘I won't bite, Libby. I'm just rather annoyed that Tobin chose not to confide in the police. This could have been avoided, I'm sure.'

‘How?'

‘By finding out what Willis was hiding.' Ian stood up. ‘I'd better go and have another word with young Sebastian Long.'

‘Willis was hiding?' repeated Libby. ‘Why would you think that?'

‘There was an attempt made on him, even if it wasn't meant to kill. And his mutterings about further attempts to kill him sound very like a warning to me.'

‘They do?' Libby looked astonished.

‘If the attempt with the Kabuki curtain was intended to warn Willis, which it looks as if it was, then Willis's mutterings were intended to counter-threaten the perpetrator.'

‘You mean, “try it again and I'll tell all”?' said Ben.

‘Something like that.' Ian frowned. ‘I'm not sure, of course, but we've got to find out.' He went to the door.

‘Can the boys go out?' asked Libby. ‘Or are they confined to barracks? They've got nothing to do, after all.'

‘I don't want them going back to London, but as long as they stay in the area and let us know where they're going they can go out, yes.'

‘Will you tell them?'

‘I'll tell one of the officers on duty to let them know.' Ian gave them a quick smile and left.

‘Why did you ask that?' said Ben, as they went back towards the kitchen.

‘I thought some of them might want to go out,' said Libby. ‘I could take a couple of them – oh, I don't know – to Canterbury?'

‘Where's the bus Stan came down in? Couldn't they go out in that?'

‘Oh, yes! It's parked round the back, isn't it?' Libby fished out her phone. ‘I'm just going to fill Fran in, then we'll go and ask them if they want to go anywhere.'

‘Count me out,' said Ben. ‘I'm going to have to sort out whether or not we open next week. I shall go and see if Max is free.

Libby wandered out into the courtyard and watched white suited FOs plodding in and out of the theatre doors like heavy-footed ghosts. Fran answered the phone on the second ring, and Libby gave her a quick résumé of the morning's events.

‘Ian wanted to know if you still thought the incidents in London and the attacks down here were made by different people?'

‘I don't know that I've thought about it,' said Fran with caution. ‘I would assume though, that the attack with the knife and the – ah – death of Stan were done by the same person, wouldn't you?'

‘Ian meant, had you had any specific feelings about it.'

‘I know what he meant,' said Fran irritably. ‘How many times do I have to tell you I can't do this to order?'

‘Wasn't me, it was him,' said Libby defensively. ‘Anyway, I'm going to offer to take some of them out for a bit if they want. Ian says I can. Do you want to come?'

‘Where, though? They aren't going to feel like a pleasure trip.'

‘I don't know. I'll go and ask. I thought we could take their bus. You know, the one they came down in.'

‘You ask them and let me know,' said Fran.

Feeling slightly deflated, Libby went back into the big sitting-room. Some of the dancers who were there looked up without much interest. Jonathan sat in a corner with a book and gave her a small smile.

‘I wondered if anyone wanted to go out anywhere,' Libby said. ‘You've got Ian's permission.'

‘Who?'

‘Oh, sorry, Detective Chief Inspector Connell. He's the policeman who was with us last night. A friend.'

‘Oh. That's how he was there so quickly.' Jonathan was eyeing her suspiciously.

‘Well, yes. He was having a drink with us in the pub, he usually does on Wednesdays. And Max told him about all the incidents, so …'

‘And were you and your friend Fran reporting everything we said to you the other evening?' Jonathan was now looking positively hostile.

‘No!' Libby was shocked. ‘Max wanted Fran and I to look into the incidents, I told you. And he
didn't
want the police to be involved. We can hardly be blamed for meeting a friend for a drink in
our
local, can we?'

‘It just seems rather coincidental, that's all.' Jonathan was now looking sulky rather than hostile.

‘I daresay it does if you've got either a suspicious mind or a guilty conscience.' Libby shrugged. ‘I'll leave you to it.'

‘Wait, Libby.' Jonathan stood up and put a hand on her arm. ‘I'm sorry. It's such a surreal situation. None of us know what to think.'

‘And I know even less than you do,' said Libby.

‘I know. I'm sorry.' Jonathan looked down at his feet.

‘So, do you think anyone wants to go out? I thought you might want to get away from the theatre for a bit. You could take the company bus, couldn't you?'

‘I don't think any of us are insured to drive it. Just Stan.'

‘Oh, dear. And you have to have a special licence for carrying passengers, don't you?'

Jonathan nodded. ‘I really don't know what we're going to do without him.'

‘I'd like to go out.'

Libby and Jonathan looked round to face a small, dark person with a rather intense expression.

‘Have you met Paul, Libby?' said Jonathan.

‘No, I haven't.' Libby held out her hand. Paul took it and held it limply for a moment.

‘There's a grotto near here, isn't there?' he said.

‘A grotto?' Libby thought back to the Victorian grotto she had seen a couple of years ago in the grounds of a local house. ‘I know one, but it's in someone's garden.'

‘No, this is like a prehistoric tomb. I saw it on television. You must know it.'

‘I don't know anything like that round here.' Libby frowned.

‘I know what he means.' A blond youth came forward and also held out a hand. ‘Hello, I'm Lee. We saw it on TV back in London and it struck a chord because we were coming here.'

‘What was it, then?' asked Jonathan.

‘It was one of these stones, you know, like Stonehenge, but there's just one of them.'

‘Sounds like Grey Betty, that's just one stone,' said Libby.

‘That's it, but they've found this mocked up tomb right near it,' said Paul. ‘Somebody or other was saying it was a scandal and threatened the – what was it? – something of the site.'

‘Integrity?' suggested Libby.

‘Could be.' Paul nodded. ‘I had a fancy to see it. Is it far?'

‘Not really,' said Libby. ‘Shall I see if I can find out anything about it?'

‘I just thought it might be, you know, interesting,' said Paul with a shrug, but Libby thought his eyes looked very sharp. She turned and went back to the office.

‘Can I borrow the computer?' she asked Ben. ‘We've got a request for a little jaunt.'

After a bit of searching, she found an online news item which obviously referred to Grey Betty and its impostor neighbour.

‘It's not open to the public, though,' she told Ben. ‘It was found when the current owner of the property was doing some work.'

‘I wonder why this Paul wants to look at it?' said Ben peering over her shoulder at the screen.

‘No idea, but if a couple of them want to go, I'll take them in your car, if I may.'

Ben gave his consent and Libby went back to the sitting room.

‘We can go and look at Grey Betty, if you like,' she announced to the room at large, ‘but not the grotto, sadly.'

Paul shrugged. ‘Better than nothing.'

Jonathan, Lee and two or three others protested at this somewhat churlish response, but Libby grinned.

‘We'll wait until Harry's served lunch, shall we?' she said. ‘He'll be up soon.'

Max, Damian, Ben and Sebastian joined them when Harry, accompanied by Peter, arrived with lunch, and the outing was discussed.

‘Why does he want to go?' Max asked Libby quietly, watching Paul, who was enthusing about the grotto to a small group of dancers.

‘I don't know, but I'm quite willing to take him and a couple of others, just to get their minds off this – thing.'

‘It seems a bit ghoulish to me.' Max poured himself a mug of coffee.

‘Ghoulish?' Libby was surprised. ‘Why?'

‘Aren't witches supposed to dance round standing stones?'

‘Maybe,' said Libby unwillingly. ‘I thought it was more Druids and people.'

Max sent her a shrewd look. ‘And weird Morris dancing traditions?'

‘Well – yes. I take it Andrew's been talking.'

‘He's told me about some of your exploits, you know that. That's why I was hopeful … Tell me, do you think this could all have something to do with witchcraft? Real witches, I mean.'