Murder Dancing (28 page)

Ian ended the call and once more handed the phone back to Libby.

‘The phone's switched off and the address is in London.' He stood up. ‘I may be being alarmist, but I think we need to look into this.'

‘Shall I come and open the theatre?' asked Ben. ‘Although there was no one left there when we locked up. I'd done the rounds.'

‘Yes, but don't forget other people have got keys,' said Libby. ‘Someone got in and got to Stan and Max.'

Ian, his own phone to his ear, nodded at Ben and then started speaking in low tones.

‘Oh, dear.' Libby looked at Peter and Harry. ‘Looks like Ian thinks your journalist's nose was right.'

‘I just hope it's not a re-run of last Wednesday,' said Peter.

‘A week ago! So much has happened.' Libby shook her head. ‘What shall we do?'

Ian ended his call. ‘You can go home. I've got officers on the way who will go with Ben to the theatre, and I'm going back to the pub to talk to Damian, as he seems to be the only one this Paddy spoke to.'

‘Apart from Owen,' said Libby. ‘But that was only as he was coming in.'

‘Then I'll speak to him, too.'

‘Can't I come with you?'

Ian's exasperation showed plainly in his face. ‘No, Libby. Just leave it. Ben, will you wait here for the officers?'

Ben nodded.

‘Stay here with us if you don't want to go home, petal,' said Harry. ‘I know you won't settle.'

Libby gave him a grateful smile and Ian left the restaurant.

‘We seem to have started another hare,' said Peter.

‘It's my fault,' said Libby. ‘I shouldn't have mentioned it.'

‘But supposing something has happened to Paddy?' said Ben. ‘Better to find out quickly. And Peter had picked up on it, too. Not just you.'

They sat making desultory conversation for another twenty minutes, before the door was pushed open and a uniformed officer peered in.

‘Mr Wilde?'

‘Yes.' Ben stood up and joined him. ‘I'll see you lot in a bit.'

Libby shivered. ‘I hope they don't find anything.'

‘So do I,' said Peter. ‘I'm not very happy with our theatre being used as the scene of the crime.'

The door opened again and Max came in, followed by Owen.

‘May we come in?' asked Max.

‘You are in,' said Harry, standing up.

‘Sorry,' said Owen, ‘we'll go.'

‘Don't be daft,' said Harry. ‘Come in and sit down. Coffee? Or something stronger?'

Max more or less collapsed into the chair vacated by Harry.

‘I'm on whisky,' said Libby helpfully.

Max smiled at her gratefully and Peter got up to fetch glasses.

‘Now,' said Harry, pouring whisky with a generous hand. ‘What's happened?'

‘Your inspector came to ask about Paddy,' said Owen.

‘Yes, we know. We told him,' said Libby.

‘His phone's switched off,' said Max in a tired voice. ‘And no one had a home number for him, but several people had Gerry's number.'

‘Who's Gerry?' asked Harry.

‘The other dancer who left in London,' said Owen. ‘He and Paddy were both threatened with burning. So Jonathan called him. And he said Paddy has no landline.' He shrugged. ‘Which isn't unusual. Most young people don't, these days.'

‘Most of the boys didn't realise he'd been in the audience and were quite upset because he hadn't stayed to speak to everyone,' said Max. ‘And that was what was bothering your inspector.'

‘Well, it bothered us, a bit, didn't it?' said Libby. ‘As Owen said, he drove all the way down here, and when I met him before the show he seemed to be really looking forward to it.'

‘What did Damian say?' asked Harry.

‘Not a lot. Just what he said to us in the theatre,' said Owen. ‘He's worried in case Paddy didn't like the music.'

‘But Paddy would have been dancing to it in London, wouldn't he?' asked Peter. ‘He'd have said then, surely.'

‘But it's changed quite a bit,' said Max. ‘I think I told you, we were all improvising at first, it was only towards the end that the music and the choreography firmed up.'

‘Oh, I see! I was puzzled about that,' said Libby. ‘But why would he worry about Paddy not liking the music?'

‘Paddy is a classically trained violinist as well as a dancer. He's great friends with our friend Sergio. In fact, he was supposed to be coming down here with Sergio on Saturday, but couldn't make it.'

‘Which makes it all the more odd that he didn't stay to speak to you all,' said Libby.

‘Is Sergio a musician, too?' asked Peter.

‘A conductor and composer. We're all looking forward to finding out what he thinks of our
Pendle
.' Max gave them all a tired smile. ‘So you don't know any more about what the inspector thinks than we do?'

‘No, only that he noticed Pete's nose twitching,' said Harry.

‘Eh?' Max and Owen looked confused.

‘Pete's a freelance journalist. He said his journalistic nose was twitching,' explained Libby.

‘What – about Paddy?' Max looked even more puzzled.

‘He thought he might be spying,' said Harry, digging his beloved in the ribs.

‘
Paddy
?' echoed Max and Owen together.

‘Never in a million years,' added Owen. ‘And what for, for fuck's sake?'

‘I don't know.' Peter shrugged. ‘I just home in on unusual behaviour patterns.'

‘Paddy is the nicest, quietest bloke you could ever wish to meet. In fact, I was a bit surprised when he got spooked by those threats,' said Max. ‘He's always seemed so calm, so balanced.'

‘I suppose,' said Libby suddenly, ‘he did go back in after the interval? Did anyone see him?'

‘No, I didn't. I wasn't looking for him,' said Owen.

‘I was backstage, so I didn't,' said Max.

‘I wonder if Damian did. He had a good overview from the box,' said Peter.

‘I expect Ian will have asked him,' said Libby. ‘Meanwhile, I think I need to go home and go to bed. I hope Ben won't be too long.'

On cue, her phone rang.

‘Where are you?' asked Ben.

‘I'm still at the caff. Owen and Max are here, too.'

‘Stay there. I'll be back in a minute. They've found him.'

Libby's stomach did something peculiar.

‘They've called an ambulance. You'd better tell the others – they'll see the blue light.'

‘He's –?'

‘Still alive, but only just. See you in a minute.'

Libby turned a shocked face to the others.

‘Oh, no!' groaned Max.

‘He's not dead,' said Libby and sank back on to her chair just as the blue light approached and turned up the Manor drive.

‘Where was he?' asked Owen.

‘I don't know. Ben's coming back here. He said to wait for him.'

‘I'd better get supplies, then,' said Harry.

‘I'll replace it tomorrow,' said Max.

‘No you won't.' Harry gave him a friendly buffet on the shoulder as he passed. ‘You've got enough to think about.'

Minutes later, Ben arrived and was besieged by questions.

‘Quiet!' He yelled. ‘I can't hear myself think. Thanks, Hal.' He accepted a whisky. ‘We opened the theatre and searched. They're very through these policemen. Then we went outside and there he was.'

‘Where?' asked Libby.

‘Just round the side in the hedge. Very little attempt to hide him. Just looked as though he'd been quickly shoved out of sight.' Ben swallowed half his glass of whisky. ‘God, I needed that. I'm not up to all this finding bodies.'

‘At least this one was alive,' said Harry. ‘How was he …?'

‘As far as I could tell, another bash on the head.' Ben smiled wryly. ‘He doesn't vary much, our murderer.'

‘Do you think he knew Paddy wasn't dead?' Even to herself Libby's voice sounded quavery.

‘How do I know?' Ben shrugged. ‘I'd rather not think about it.'

Owen stood up. ‘We'd better get back to the pub. I expect the police will want to talk to us again.'

Max stood like an old man. ‘I suppose so.' He turned to Harry. ‘Thanks for the hospitality.'

‘Come on, Lib, we might as well go, too,' said Ben. He turned to Peter and Harry. ‘We'll let you know tomorrow what developments there are.'

‘You know,' said Libby a few minutes later as they walked along the deserted high street, ‘this is ridiculous. It should be so easy to work out. Doesn't it strike you as completely amateur and panic-driven?'

‘I was thinking that earlier,' said Ben. ‘As if there was something hidden that the murderer wanted to conceal, and everything that's happened is to stop it coming out.'

‘Exactly,' said Libby, ‘especially this last one. But it doesn't fit with the incidents in London.'

‘Unless it's those the murderer wants to hide,' said Ben.

‘But would you commit murder to hide them? No, it's got to be more serious than that. Another murder? One that hasn't been discovered?'

They turned the corner into Allhallow's Lane.

‘The attacks on Stan and Max were definitely linked to
Pendle
,' said Ben, ‘but Paddy had left. So what was his connection?'

‘It must be something that happened before they came down here,' said Libby.

Ben unlocked the door of number seventeen. ‘Well, if we've worked it out that far, so will Ian and his minions. I suspect there's a good deal of work going on we know nothing about.'

‘I know.' Libby sighed. ‘I wish he'd hurry up about it, though. This has all got a bit out of hand.'

Ben laughed. ‘Slight understatement!'

‘You know what I mean. I wish we hadn't asked them down here, now.'

‘It wasn't us, it was Andrew. Now, come on, it's bedtime. Get up those stairs, woman.'

The following morning, Libby was unsurprised to receive a call from one of Ian's officers asking if she and Ben could possibly meet DCI Connell at the theatre.

‘How did he get in there?' she asked Ben as she ended the call.

‘I left the keys with the officers who found Paddy.' Ben drained his coffee mug. ‘We'd better get up there. I don't want them messing up the set or the lighting.'

‘I'll follow you,' said Libby. ‘I must call Fran.'

Fran was suitably impressed by the news of Paddy's attack, and the prescience of Peter, Libby and Ian in suspecting something was wrong. Libby concluded the call by saying she would let Fran know if they needed any help in the theatre that night and, throwing her cape round her shoulders, said goodbye to Sidney and left.

Chapter Thirty-one

The foyer was crowded. Max and Owen sat at one of the little white tables, Ian was talking to Ben and Peter by the spiral staircase and various police officials appeared to be inspecting every inch of the floors and walls. Ian beckoned Libby over.

‘I know you didn't know Paddy Milburn, but you did speak to him, didn't you?'

‘Yes, I told you last night. He just said now he'd seen the theatre he wished he'd stayed with the company.'

‘And he didn't appear to be distracted – or angry?'

‘I don't know what he was like normally, but he seemed perfectly cheerful. Not harbouring any great secret, or anything.'

Ian narrowed his eyes at her. ‘What do you mean by that?'

Libby was taken aback. ‘Well, if he was attacked to stop something from coming out, he must have known something. A secret.'

‘And presumably didn't know he knew it,' said Ian.

‘Oh, do you think so?'

‘Ian's been thinking along the same lines as we were,' said Ben. ‘I said he would be.'

‘This murderer is careless,' said Ian. ‘That said, we should have caught him by now. I got sidetracked by the incidents in London and trying to work out motives.'

‘And?' Libby prompted.

Ian's half-smile appeared. ‘You don't catch me out like that. Now, would you like to see if Max wants to use the theatre today?'

‘Can they open tonight?' asked Peter.

‘I don't see why not. It doesn't appear that the attack took place in here.'

‘But there are people going over everywhere with a toothcomb!' said Libby.

‘Standard procedure,' said Ian. ‘And yes, if you wanted to know, Mr Milburn is, as they, say, holding his own.'

‘Oh.' Libby felt the colour rush into her face. ‘Oh, dear. Sorry.'

She crossed to Max and Owen and put her question.

‘As long as we can get in this evening,' said Max, ‘I don't mind what happens. I suppose I'd better go over and speak to the boys.'

‘I'm going over, too,' said Libby. ‘Poor Hetty must be wondering what on earth has been going on.'

In the Manor sitting-room, the dancers were draped over the furniture in the manner Libby had come to expect. In a group near the coffee urns sat Jonathan, Tom, Will and Damian.

‘Have you heard anything?' called Jonathan.

‘He's still alive,' said Max, perching on the edge of a table. ‘Look, everyone, I know how bad this has been for us all, and I honestly couldn't blame you if you wanted to stop now. I really thought that the worst was over, and last night was such a success – but now I have to face the fact that whoever is doing this isn't going to stop until we do. So, what do you all think?'

The dancers exchanged glances.

‘It's got to be someone here, hasn't it?' said Dan. The others turned to him in surprise. ‘Well, it has. Unless Libby or Ben or Hetty has suddenly decided to have a vendetta against us. I don't believe it's got anything to do with the stuff that happened in London either.' He shook his head. ‘It seems quite unbelievable to me – all of it – but we've had one murder and two attacks. So which one of us doesn't want to go on?' He looked round at the rest of the room. ‘Come on. Because if anyone doesn't want to go on, I think I might be a bit suspicious.'