Murder Dancing (25 page)

‘I said get out of my way!' roared Willis.

The door opened behind Libby.

‘Don't you shout like that in my house,' said Hetty, coming round to stand by Libby, arms crossed in front of her apron. ‘Sound like a bloody docker, you do.'

Taken aback, Willis wobbled on his sticks, and Ben quickly rounded the desk to support him.

‘Get off,' he muttered, but Ben held on.

‘I think 'e ought ter go,' said Hetty. ‘Don't want the likes of 'im in my 'ouse.'

Amused, Libby said, ‘Shall we put him out, Hetty?'

‘I'm not goin' bloody anywhere,' said Willis, eyeing Hetty warily.

‘Then it'll 'ave to be the police,' said Hetty, unmoved. ‘Ben, call –'

‘All right, all right.' Willis struggled back to his chair. ‘Bloody women.'

Ben stifled a snort and Hetty winked at Libby. Just as she did so, they heard the unmistakable sound of tyres on gravel.

‘That'll be Ian,' said Libby, and went to let him in.

‘You've just missed Hetty getting the better of him,' she whispered, as she led him and a wide-eyed detective constable to the office.

‘I wish I'd seen that,' he whispered back and entered the office behind her.

‘Hello, Hetty, Ben,' he said. ‘This is DC Irons. Who's this?'

‘Mr Wally Willis,' said Ben. ‘Stan Willis's father.'

‘Oh, yes.' Ian didn't hold out a hand. Neither did Wally Willis. ‘I believe one of my officers went to see you in London last week?'

Willis nodded, looking even more wary now.

‘Is there anything we can do for you now you're here?' continued Ian.

‘Let me into that theatre.' It came out as a growl.

Ian glanced at Ben, who shook his head.

‘Not just at the moment, sir.' Ian moved round to the side of Ben's desk, forcing Willis to turn and face him. ‘Who did you want to see?'

‘That bloody Tobing!'

‘Mr Max Tobin, would that be, sir?' Ian said mildly. Libby had to turn away and discovered Hetty had, too. While they both struggled to contain their mirth, Ian was going on.

‘I'm afraid he can't tell you any more about your son's death than I can. What did you want to know?'

‘'Is fuckin' fault, innit?' The roar was back.

‘No, sir, Mr Tobin had nothing to do with the death. In fact, he was attacked himself.'

Willis goggled and suddenly sat down again.

Hetty cleared her throat and went to pick up the tea tray. She glanced at Ian, who nodded and smiled, and left the room.

‘Now, Mr Willis,' said Ian. ‘As you're here, perhaps you wouldn't mind answering a few questions. DC Irons will just take a few notes.

‘Already talked to your lot.'

‘I know, sir, but there are a few things I'd like to clarify.'

‘'Oo are you?'

‘Detective Chief Inspector Connell, I'm senior investigating officer on the enquiry into Mr Willis junior's death.'

Willis grunted.

‘Ben, Libby, I'm sorry to turn you out, but …' Ian smiled deprecatingly.

‘OK, we're going,' said Ben with an answering grin. ‘Come on, Lib.'

As they left, they heard Willis ask, ‘Friends o' yours, are they? That's 'andy, innit?'

‘What a horrible man,' said Libby as they entered the kitchen.

‘Lots like 'im in the East End,' said Hetty. ‘Ought to ask Flo up to have a look at him.'

‘As a curiosity?' suggested Ben. ‘Are you making Ian tea?'

‘Yes. Mugs this time. 'Ere, Lib, you can take 'em in.'

‘I'll bring the sugar in case DC Irons wants it,' said Ben, artlessly.

Ben knocked on the door and opened it for Libby, who went in and put the two mugs down on the desk. Ben offered the sugar to DC Irons, who shook his head, looking embarrassed, and he and Libby regretfully left the room.

As they did so, the front door opened and Sebastian almost fell through it.

‘Is it Stan's father? Is he here?'

‘Yes, he is. I thought you said you didn't know him?' Libby frowned at him.

‘I don't – but he'll know me, won't he? Oh, God, don't tell him I'm here!'

Chapter Twenty-seven

Ben steered Sebastian into the sitting-room.

‘Now, what do you mean by that? And if you didn't want him to know you were here, why did you come over?'

‘Because he's bound to come to the theatre and I wouldn't be able to get away from him!' Sebastian sank on to one of the sofas, head in hands.

‘Why are you scared, Seb?' Libby sat down beside him.

‘After you told me Stan's father was a criminal it was obvious how I'd been let off the whole drugs thing. The more I thought about it the more likely it seemed. And Stan used to threaten me. I wondered what he could do to me, but I didn't dare try to find out.'

‘And how did you know he was here?' asked Ben.

‘Max recognised the car. He'd gone up to the box and noticed it when he was coming down. We've finished over there, and he was going to give his pep talk.'

‘OK,' said Ben. ‘Go into the kitchen. Where are you sleeping now, by the way?'

‘Oh, they've let me back into the room in the hotel. They've taken all Stan's stuff away.'

‘Right, well, go into the kitchen, as Ben says, and we'll let you know when it's safe to come out,' said Libby.

She showed a quivering Sebastian into the kitchen with a ‘Look after him, Hetty!' and returned to Ben.

‘Did he seem unduly scared to you?' asked Ben.

‘Hmmm.' Libby looked thoughtful. ‘He did rather. Why, do you suppose? He professed to know nothing about Stan's father or how the drugs barons or whoever they were let up on him. Do you think he was lying? I thought he was telling the truth at the time.'

‘He's had time to think about it since then. He might even have had a look on the internet. Probably scared him stiff reading about what Willis got up to back in the sixties and seventies.'

‘Perhaps that's it. I wonder if Ian will let him see Max?'

As if in answer to her query, Ian appeared at the sitting-room door.

‘I'm sorry to be a nuisance,' he began, and Libby raised her eyebrows, ‘but would one of you mind fetching Tobin over here?'

‘I'll go,' said Ben.

‘Sebastian's hiding in the kitchen,' said Libby. ‘He doesn't want to meet Stan's father.'

‘Now why would that be?' Ian frowned.

‘Go and ask him?' Libby suggested.

‘Not until I've supervised the meeting between Willis and Tobin. He might be an old man, but he could do some damage with those sticks.'

‘Do you think he still has the power to cause any real grief?' asked Libby.

‘Associates, you mean? There's certainly some influence there, especially if Seb is right and Stan got the hounds called off. When was that?'

‘I don't know. Couple of years, maybe?'

Ben arrived, with Max in tow looking worried.

‘What does he want?' he asked Ian.

‘Satisfaction,' said Ian with a grin. ‘But I felt it was only fair to let him see you.'

‘Under supervision,' put in Libby.

‘Exactly,' agreed Ian. ‘Ready?'

‘Aren't you two coming?' Max looked at Libby and Ben.

‘No. Not our business,' said Ben. ‘We'll wait here.'

‘Shall we go and relieve Hetty in the kitchen?' suggested Libby.

‘You go. I'll stay here and wait for Max,' said Ben, so Libby went back to the kitchen, where she found Sebastian sitting at the table gloomily contemplating a mug of tea.

‘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.'