Murder Dancing (27 page)

‘Good,' said Libby. ‘They deserve an audience, now.'

She took up her place behind the bar and began taking orders for interval drinks while keeping an eye on the steady trickle of people arriving. Owen hovered between Bob and Fran and, about five minutes before curtain up, Libby saw him greet a tall young man whom Libby immediately identified as another
danseur
. Owen noticed Libby observing them, and taking the young man by the arm, led him over to the bar.

‘Libby,' he said, ‘meet our original Demdike, Paddy Milburn.'

Chapter Twenty-nine

Libby looked up at the young man standing before her.

‘Hello, Paddy.' She smiled and held out her hand, which he took with a diffident smile of his own.

‘Hello.' His voice had a faint Irish accent. ‘I'm sorry now I didn't stay with the company. This all looks lovely.'

‘Thank you,' said Libby. ‘Perhaps I'll see you later. I think it's time to take your seats.'

Owen and Paddy moved towards the auditorium doors and Libby came out from behind the bar counter.

‘Who was that?' asked Fran as she closed the doors.

‘The original Demdike. The one who left after all the threats.'

‘Really?' Fran's eyebrows rose. ‘He doesn't look like someone who's easily intimidated.'

‘No.' Libby was thoughtful. ‘But we don't know exactly what the threats were.'

‘Will told us it was burning. “What they do to witches”, wasn't it?'

‘Yes, but he said he hadn't seen Paddy's or Gerry's, so we don't know exactly. Perhaps it was worse than that.'

‘And in your head you've linked it all up with Wally Willis and the Medmenham Monks, haven't you?'

Libby stared defiantly at her friend. ‘Even you have to admit it's a coincidence.'

‘OK, it's a coincidence, but absolutely nothing to do with Stan's death.'

‘I'm sure there's a link,' said Libby. ‘And I wonder why Paddy's come down to watch? Surely he'd have waited to see it in London – if he wanted to see it at all, which I'm surprised at.'

‘He was involved from the start, why wouldn't he want to see how it turned out?' said Fran. ‘Don't start making mysteries where there are none, Lib.'

‘Hmm.' Libby wandered back to the bar. ‘I suppose I can't leave the bar and go and watch, can I?'

‘Not unless either Bob or I stay here,' said Fran. ‘And you've seen it already. Let Bob go in and watch if he wants to.'

Libby turned to where Bob was still standing at the front doors. ‘Do you want to go in and watch, Bob?' she called.

‘Thanks,' Bob called back. ‘Can I slip in at the back?'

Libby and Fran began to lay out the pre-ordered interval drinks.

‘I wonder where all these people have come from?' said Fran, idly polishing a glass. ‘I didn't recognise many of your usual crowd.'

‘I don't know. The online bookings are done through an agency website, we just get told a list of names and the tickets are printed automatically. A couple of phone bookings came through, and they're transferred to Ben's office phone, but no one we recognised. I know it was advertised on dance websites and in dance magazines so I suppose that's where a lot of them came from.'

‘One woman said she was from one of the local dance schools. I suppose he researched them and sent them details.' Fran replaced the glass.

‘Easy to do on social media,' said Libby. ‘I'm glad he's got a good house. They've all worked so hard, and it's been so traumatic over the last couple of weeks.'

‘Well, if the motive behind it all was to stop the production, it didn't work.'

‘And if it was to make sure it went ahead, it did work. Either way, it's over now. We just hope tonight goes smoothly and they get their transfer.'

A burst of clapping heralded the interval and an excited, chattering crowd poured into the foyer. Libby and Fran were kept busy serving those who had not pre-ordered drinks and fielding questions to which they didn't know the answers. Libby noticed Paddy talking to Damian and hoped he'd come to the bar. She wanted to know what he thought, and if he still wished he'd stayed with the company.

‘Going well.' Owen appeared at the bar looking triumphant. ‘They seem to love it.'

‘It certainly sounds like it,' said Libby. ‘Drink?'

‘Not yet. I'll celebrate later with Max.' He moved away, and Libby again looked for Paddy, only to find he'd disappeared.

The bar gradually cleared and Fran and Libby began to load the glass washer.

‘I wanted to ask Paddy what he thought,' said Libby. ‘Did you see him?'

‘Only in the distance, talking to Damian.'

‘Yes, sympathising, probably.'

‘How so?'

‘Well, Paddy backed out, and Damian nearly did, didn't he? Although he must be pleased with the response it's getting.' Libby began wiping down the counter with industrial cleaner.

There was a spontaneous burst of applause from the auditorium.

‘I bet that's the Kabuki,' said Libby, looking up at the FX box. Peter looked down and gave her a thumbs up.

The second half was shorter than the first, and it was only just after ten o'clock when prolonged cheering and clapping broke out. Libby and Fran opened the auditorium doors and stood at the back watching as the young men discarded their characters and took their bows as themselves.

Max came out, took a bow and led the applause for Damian, while the audience craned round to see him, and finally, the company left the stage.

In the foyer, he was surrounded by people congratulating him, while he modestly disclaimed responsibility, introducing the dancers, as one by one they emerged from the dressing rooms. Eventually, only the company were left.

Owen had disappeared, and now returned holding aloft four bottles of champagne. ‘Hetty kept them cold for me,' he announced, ‘so it didn't spoil the surprise for Libby!'

Libby and Fran hurriedly began setting out wineglasses. ‘No flutes, I'm afraid, Owen,' said Libby.

Max raised his glass as soon as it was filled. ‘Here's to you all, for making Pendle such a success.' He turned to Libby. ‘Including our wonderful hosts!'

As the hubbub died down, Libby asked what Paddy had thought of it. ‘I didn't see him after the show to ask,' she said.

‘Neither did I,' said Max. ‘Owen?'

‘No, I didn't either. I wonder why? As he took all the trouble to drive down here.'

‘I wanted to know what he thought of the music.' Damian appeared behind Owen.

‘Didn't you ask him in the interval?' said Libby. ‘I saw you were talking to him.'

‘Yes, but he'd heard it in rehearsal. I didn't ask him what he thought of the orchestration. He's a musician as well as a dancer, you know. Classical violin.' Damian looked worried. ‘Do you think he hated it and left early?'

‘Surely if he'd hated it, he would have told you in the interval,' said Max. ‘Don't look so worried, Damian. I'm sorry I didn't get a chance to speak to him, though.'

‘He said he wished he'd stayed with the company when he arrived, didn't he Owen?' said Libby.

‘He did. He didn't know much of the detail of our saga down here, because, amazingly, the boys have kept quiet.'

‘He knew about Stan, though,' said Damian. ‘He was asking me about that. I said none of us knew what had happened.'

‘Good. Best to keep quiet,' said Max. ‘Now, we must let Ben and Libby lock up. Come on, everybody, drink up.'

Half an hour later, they had seen Fran off in her car, and Ben, Libby and Peter walked down the drive.

‘Come and have a drink in the caff,' said Peter. ‘Hal will want to know all about it.'

Harry had anticipated their arrival by placing various alcoholic beverages on the big, pine table in the right-hand window. Libby slumped into the sofa in the left-hand one.

‘Everything worked perfectly,' Peter announced. ‘Even the dancers.'

He and Ben gave their opinion of the evening's performance, Kabuki curtain and all.

‘The audience gasped and clapped,' said Ben. ‘Very gratifying.'

‘And the music?' asked Harry.

‘Well, they all cheered when Max waved up at the box,' said Peter, ‘although they could have been cheering me, of course.

‘And one of the original dancers came down,' said Libby. ‘And vanished before we could ask him what he thought.'

‘That's a bit odd, isn't it?' Harry topped up his glass.

‘I thought so. He drove all the way down here, Owen said. And didn't stay.'

‘You would have thought he'd want to talk to the other dancers,' said Ben.

Peter frowned. ‘My journalist's nose is twitching.'

‘Why?' asked Libby.

‘It seems more than odd. Almost as if he was spying.'

‘Spying?' the other three echoed.

‘What for? Who for?' said Harry. ‘Someone Max has pissed off?'

‘I don't know. It's probably nothing. But apart from Owen and Damian he didn't speak to anybody and sloped off before he could see anyone afterwards. Either he hated the whole thing, or …'

‘But I don't see what he could say to anyone that would – I don't know – reflect badly on the company. They virtually made the whole thing up from a standing start and Max himself has funded this production.' Libby scowled into her glass. ‘There's nothing wrong with any of it.'

‘On the face of it, no,' said Peter, ‘But we have had one murder and one serious attack. Perhaps he was down here to find out about that.'

‘To damage the company? But it wouldn't! Not now. It's opened. If anything, if the news got out now it would be good publicity.'

‘Libby!' Ben protested.

‘I'm not saying it's not bad taste, but you've got to admit that the ghoulish public would be very interested.'

‘She's right,' said Harry. ‘It pains me to say so, but she is.'

‘Or,' said Peter, ‘could he have had something to do with the incidents in London – even down here – and have come to see what the result was?' He looked at Libby and grinned. ‘And now I sound like you.'

‘But he was the one who received the worst of the threats,' said Ben.

‘Camouflage,' said Peter and Libby together.

‘It's possible, isn't it?' said Libby. ‘Unlikely, but possible.'

‘You've spent the last week and a half theorising about what could have happened, what's behind everything and whodunit, and every theory has been more unlikely than the last,' said Harry. ‘And if I were you, I'd shut up now, because there's a policeman coming to get you.'

‘I wondered where you were,' said Ian putting his head round the door. ‘I saw some of the troops go into the pub. They all seemed cheerful.'

‘Sorry, we should have remembered it was Wednesday,' said Libby.

‘Come in, Ian.' Harry stood up. ‘Coffee?'

‘As yours is far better than the pub's, yes please.' Ian came inside, pulled up a chair and sat down. ‘So how did it go? Anne and Patti said to tell you they've got tickets for tomorrow.'

‘Oh, yes,' said Ben. ‘I forgot to tell you.'

‘It went very well,' said Libby. ‘Pete and Ben can tell you more. Fran and I spent the evening in the foyer and doing the bar.'

Harry reappeared with the coffee pot and Ben and Peter launched into a description of the evening's performance.

‘And no incidents?' asked Ian. ‘Did you use the curtain?'

‘Yes, and it got a round of applause,' said Ben. ‘No incidents, and a very happy company.'

‘Well, I hope that's the way it stays,' said Ian. ‘I'm only sorry we haven't managed to find out more about the murder and the attack on Max.'

‘Actually –' began Libby.

‘Libby, shut up!' said three voices.

Ian looked amused. ‘What? Let her speak so she can shoot herself in the foot.'

The other men laughed and Libby looked affronted.

‘I was only going to say that one of the dancers who left because of the threats in London turned up, and disappeared again before he could speak to anyone.'

Ian's smile disappeared, too.

‘Who was that?'

‘Paddy something,' said Libby, looking startled. ‘Millward? Milburn – that's it.'

‘And has anybody tried to get in touch with him to ask why?'

‘No!' Libby was surprised. ‘We discussed it after the show. I suppose one of them should have done.'

‘It might have looked like asking for praise,' said Ben.

Ian shook his head. ‘In view of what's been happening around this company over the last couple of months, I think it's more like asking if he's safe!'

Chapter Thirty

Everyone looked at Libby, who sighed.

‘OK. Who do I ask?'

‘Max, obviously,' said Ben.

She found the number in her phone and pressed call. It was answered almost immediately.

‘Libby? What's up?'

‘Well, nothing really, but – er –' Libby cleared her throat and looked frantically at Ian, who reached over and took the phone.

‘Max? This is DCI Connell. I wonder if you could do me a favour? Yes – thank you. Could you ring …'

‘Paddy,' whispered Libby.

‘Paddy. I believe he came down this evening? Yes, that's what Libby told me. We're just a little concerned that he hasn't been seen since the interval – exactly, we thought the same. Could you do that and ring me back? Yes, this number's fine. Thank you.'

He handed the phone back to Libby, who handed it back. ‘It's you he's going to be ringing – golly, that was quick.'

‘Yes?' said Ian. His face was serious. ‘I see. Yes, I'll get back to you. Have you got a home address for him?'