Murder Dancing (6 page)

‘Don't ask me, petal. I'm just reporting what they were saying. I don't think they like him much.'

‘No,' said Libby thoughtfully. ‘You don't think he would sabotage the production, do you?'

‘Me? I don't know the bloke, do I? And why the hell should he? It pays his wages, doesn't it?'

‘I suppose so. I don't know much about the set-up, really.' Libby gazed into her wine glass. ‘I think I'd better try and find out a bit more. I expect there's a website.'

‘Do you think it might be to do with the company rather than the dancers?' asked Harry.

‘It could be, couldn't it? One of the boys suggested someone who had been turned down at audition.'

‘And so upset he left a dead cockerel in a locker? Nah. Besides, it has to be someone who knows the rehearsal rooms and the whole set-up, doesn't it?'

‘That's what I said to Max. He did say it could be someone who was close to one of the company, though.'

‘And did he make any suggestions?'

‘No, I think it was just a random thought.' Libby drained her glass. ‘Oh, well. I'll go home and do some research, then I'll pop up and mingle a bit more when they've finished for the day.'

‘What about Fran? When's she coming up?'

‘I don't know. I expect she'll ring.'

But she didn't. She arrived.

Chapter Six

‘I didn't know what you were planning to do, so I thought I ought to come and find out.' Fran followed Libby into the kitchen.

‘I don't think I'm planning anything,' said Libby. ‘I went up at lunchtime, but I didn't manage to get any confidences. Sit down and I'll tell you what's been happening over the last couple of days.'

By the time Libby had finished and they had both drunk two large mugs of tea, Fran was looking thoughtful.

‘So nobody seemed unduly worried?'

‘No, I suppose they didn't. Do you think Max was over-reacting?'

‘We don't know about the two people who left. Has anything been said about them?'

‘No!' Libby was surprised. ‘No. Even when Jonathan – the new Demdike – told me he'd been promoted, he said nothing about the previous one. That's odd, isn't it?'

‘If you introduce me to the people you've actually met, I can do a bit of gentle questioning, can't I? Are you going up this afternoon?'

‘I thought I would. I'll see if they want tea in the sitting-room. Although I don't know how long Max intends to work them for.'

Fran looked at her watch. ‘Let's wander up about four. We can always watch rehearsal, can't we?'

It appeared that Max was sticking to a strict ten-to-five routine.

‘Can't tire them out too much,' he told Fran with a grin. ‘They get stroppy.'

Fran raised her eyebrows. ‘What happened to show-fitness?'

‘Oh, they're all as tough as old shoe leather, really. But they like to moan.'

‘Do they want tea in the sitting-room?' asked Libby. ‘We didn't know. They've all got kettles in their rooms.'

‘Don't worry about that,' said Max. ‘They might congregate in the sitting-room for a chat, but they'll all wander off to their rooms eventually before going down to the pub for dinner. I think Harry might find himself inundated tomorrow night.'

Libby and Fran repaired to the Manor, where Hetty presented them with two huge Victoria sponges.

‘Thought they might like a bit o' cake,' she said gruffly and disappeared into the kitchen.

Libby looked at Fran and giggled. ‘I hope none of them are watching their weight.'

As they crossed the hall towards the sitting-room, the first dancers came in.

‘Ooh!'

‘Look at that!'

‘Is it for us?'

‘Can we have some?'

Followed by a sweaty clutch of male bodies in an assortment of T-shirts, shorts, jogging bottoms and leggings, Libby and Fran bore their cakes aloft into the sitting-room, where Hetty had provided knives and paper plates.

‘So you're Demdike?' said Fran, serving Jonathan a large slice. ‘Why did the previous one leave? I would have thought this was a great – do you say part in dance theatre?'

‘Yes, well.' Jonathan took his paper plate. ‘There was an incident.'

‘Oh, like Chattox's cockerel?'

‘Oh, you know about that?'

‘Max warned Libby and Ben. Just in case anything else happened.'

‘I'm sure it won't.' Jonathan sounded confident. ‘Now we've left London.'

‘Why? What difference does that make?' asked Fran.

‘Well –' Jonathan looked confused for a moment. ‘I suppose I assumed that whoever was behind all this stuff was in London. He won't have followed us here.'

‘You said “he”,' said Fran. ‘Do you know who it was?'

‘No, of course not. I'd have said if I did. It's just – we're all men. It won't have been a woman.'

‘Could have been.'

Fran turned to see a large, blond man holding out a plate.

‘Hi, I'm Dan. Could I have another piece?'

Fran laughed. ‘OK. But what did you mean “it could have been”? A woman?'

‘Well, yes. A couple of people have been a bit – well – a bit …
surprised
that we're danseurs playing women.'

‘Really?' Fran handed over the cake. ‘Not unusual, is it? Apart from recent pieces, what about
La Fille mal gardée
? The famous clog dance.'

Jonathan and Dan both sighed and rolled their eyes.

‘Why does everyone know that?' Jonathan shook his head. ‘And I bet most people couldn't tell you what the hell the ballet is about.'

‘It's a bit of a hotch-potch, isn't it?' said Fran. ‘The general public only know the Frederick Ashton version, I would think.'

Dan and Jonathan looked at her with respect.

‘Sorry,' said Jonathan. ‘I sounded rude.'

‘Don't worry about it,' said Fran. ‘I suppose the people who object are those who only view witches as women with hooked noses and tall hats.'

Dan snorted. ‘Fairy tale witches.'

‘Arthur Rackham witches,' said Jonathan surprisingly.

‘Well, yes, though his were scary,' said Fran. ‘But it was the Victorian view, wasn't it? All witches were female, when, in fact, they weren't.'

‘The Pendle witches were female, though,' said Dan.

‘So you're saying that a woman could have been scandalised enough to play nasty tricks on the company just because the piece is danced by men?' Fran looked doubtful.

‘It does sound a bit naff, doesn't it?' Dan sighed. ‘Oh, well, just a thought. My wife actually thought of it. She says women have much nastier minds than men!'

‘Not all men,' said Jonathan. He looked round the room, his eyes resting suggestively on Stan Willis and Seb, who, as usual, was looking gloomy.

‘Who are they?' asked Fran.

‘That's Stan Willis, the stage manager,' said Jonathan.

‘And company manager,' added Dan.

‘And that's Seb with him. He's Stan's partner.'

‘And ASM,' added Dan.

‘Which is which?'

‘Stan's the one with the glasses, and Seb's the miserable looking one with red hair.'

‘Doesn't he like being the ASM?' asked Fran.

‘I don't think he much likes being Stan's partner,' said Jonathan with a giggle.

‘So which of them has the nasty mind?' asked Fran. ‘You implied that one of them had.'

‘Oh, Stan, of course.'

‘Shhh, Jon!' Dan nudged Jonathan sharply. ‘Don't stir anything else up.'

Fran raised her eyebrows, but nothing more was forthcoming. She went across to join Libby, who introduced her to Phillip Newcombe and Will Davies.

‘I must say I'm finding all these names very confusing,' said Fran, ‘especially when everyone has a character name, too!'

‘Oh, don't worry about it,' said Phillip. ‘We're all interchangeable. Just a load of poofy dancers to the general public.'

Fran looked shocked.

‘Don't take any notice, Fran,' said Libby. ‘I've only known Phillip a couple of days and I've already decided he's the wasp of the company.'

Phillip beamed delightedly. ‘Darting around hither and yon seeing whom I can sting.'

‘I see you were making friends with Jonathan and Dan,' said Libby.

Fran nodded. ‘Jonathan said he thought whoever had been playing tricks on the company would still be in London.'

‘Unless it's one of us,' said Will.

‘Why would one of you do something like that?'

‘Perhaps it's Jon himself. To get to dance Demdike.' Phillip eyed the two women with glee.

‘I shall consider you seriously,' said Libby.

‘You will?' Phillip looked taken aback.

Libby grinned. ‘Not really. But it must have been rather upsetting for you all. What actually happened?'

Phillip looked at her sideways. ‘Why do you want to know?'

‘She's nosy,' said Fran. ‘Always has been.'

‘Our beloved leader will tell you. You're friendly with him, aren't you?' Phillip picked up his bag from the floor. ‘I'm off to have a shower.'

Will watched him weave his way through the other dancers and pause to have a word with Stan Willis.

‘I don't know why he was like that,' he said. ‘He's one of the biggest gossips in the company.'

‘Doesn't matter,' said Libby. ‘I don't suppose many of you want to talk about it.'

‘Why wouldn't we?' Will looked surprised. ‘We all talked about it all the time. Especially when Paddy and Gerry left.'

‘Was one of them the original Demdike?' asked Fran.

‘Yes – Paddy. He was very good. I've worked with him before. Well,' he gave a shrug, ‘I've worked with most of them before, either in Max's company or in the West End.'

‘Which do you prefer?' asked Libby. ‘This is more straight ballet, isn't it?'

‘Nearer to it, anyway,' said Will. ‘And of course I prefer this sort of thing, but it doesn't pay as well. I expect I'll be doing panto by Christmas.'

‘Why?' said Fran. ‘It's nearly the end of October. You'd know by now, wouldn't you?'

Will shrugged again. ‘Normally, yes. But this production was supposed to run right up to and past Christmas, and none of us thought we'd need panto.'

‘Then what's changed?' asked Libby.

‘The atmosphere. It's just too tense. It's a good show, but it's looking – I don't know – fated.'

‘Had you got a theatre?' said Fran.

‘Off Broadway.' Will grinned. ‘If you know what I mean. But yes, we have. If we go in.'

‘But what on earth could be nasty enough to stop the show?' asked Libby. ‘I got the impression from Max that the cockerel was the worst event.'

‘Physically, yes.' Will perched on the arm of a chair and rubbed a hand over his face. ‘It was the letters.'

‘Letters?' said the women together.

‘We all got at least one.'

‘
All
?' gasped Libby.

‘Most of them were just nasty little digs about being gay, which is a laugh because half the company aren't gay. Then a couple of people got second letters accusing them of all sorts of things, and finally Paddy and Gerry both got really threatening letters.'

‘Threatening to do what?' asked Fran.

‘Burn them.'

‘
Burn
them?' said Fran.

Libby burst out laughing. ‘That's absurd. You can't burn people these days.'

‘It quoted quite graphic examples,' said Will. ‘True ones.'

‘And they would be burnt why?'

‘It was more or less along the lines of “if you carry on pretending to be witches you'll be treated like them.” Only worse, if you know what I mean.'

‘So the complaint seems to be against – what? The portrayal of the witches by men, or the portrayal of them at all?' said Libby.

‘There was a lot of balls about it being against nature.' Will shook his head. ‘I didn't see Paddy's and Gerry's, but that's what it said in some of the earlier ones.'

‘Seems rather odd,' said Fran, staring fixedly at nothing in particular.

‘That's an understatement,' said Libby.

‘No, odd in that none of it seems coherent. It looks as though someone is trying to stop the production and doesn't really care how.'

Libby and Will looked at her in surprise.

‘Actually stop the production?' echoed Will.

‘Well, what other reason is there?' Fran was reasonable. ‘Nothing seems directed at one individual, does it? And what's against nature? Dancing? Theatre? Men dressed as women?'

‘Don't forget there was some animosity against gays,' said Libby. ‘Even if it was misdirected.'

‘Well,' said Will, standing up, ‘I'm just glad we're out of London and we can all forget about it.'

‘I'm not so sure of that,' murmured Fran, as Will wandered out to the hallway.

‘What?' said Libby.

‘That it's all over. After all, Max asked us to look into it. Why?'

‘What do you mean, why? To find out what was going on, of course.'

‘Because he thought there was a threat to the production, obviously.'

‘Oh! Yes, I suppose so.'

‘And he brought them all down here.' Fran was looking thoughtful. ‘Why?'

‘To talk to us,' said Libby, beginning to feel worried.

‘That's a hell of an expense just to get two nosy women to talk to his troupe, isn't it?'

‘You think there was more to it?'

Fran looked at her friend. ‘Don't you?'

Next morning, they found a rat, suspended by its neck, hanging in the middle of the stage.

Chapter Seven

Sebastian, who had opened up the theatre in advance of the company, called Max and then Stan. Max called Ben, who called Hetty and Peter.