Murder Dancing (21 page)

‘No. Think about it. Max came in and went up to the sound box. There was no one there as far as he can remember. But what would be easier than to slip in behind him unseen and follow him up there?'

‘He'd have to be awfully quiet,' said Libby dubiously.

‘Dancers are light on their feet,' said Ben. ‘And as for the rat and the knife, the theatre was open from first thing that morning. Anyone could have gone in before the rehearsal started.'

‘What about Stan?'

‘Same as Max. Someone knew where he was going and what he was doing and followed him in.'

‘Oh, Lord,' said Libby. ‘This is getting worse and worse.'

Chapter Twenty-two

Libby waited until Owen came down from the stage.

‘They want to go on,' he said. ‘Well, perhaps “want” is too strong a word, but they feel it would be a waste to cancel now, and they're all going to take extra safety precautions.'

‘Will you tell Max?' asked Libby.

‘Yes.' Owen sighed. ‘This whole thing has turned into a bit of a fiasco, hasn't it?'

‘It has a bit. But
Pendle
's a good piece, it deserves to be seen.'

‘Thanks. I had nothing to do with it, of course, except to encourage from the sidelines.'

‘But you trained some of the dancers, didn't you?'

‘Jonathan, yes, some time ago. And young Lee.'

‘Jonathan was expressing doubt about the production going on,' said Libby. ‘How is he now?'

‘Resigned, I think would describe it best,' said Owen, with a short laugh.

Libby smiled. ‘They'll all be fine once you open.'

‘If nothing else happens,' said Owen. With these valedictory words he went back to the stage and Libby left the auditorium.

Ben was in the foyer talking to Ian.

‘Are they going on?' he asked.

‘Looks like it,' said Libby. ‘Are you sure you're not using them as bait, Ian?'

Ian looked amused. ‘Now would I do that? Anyway, we have other lines of enquiry.'

‘You have? Apart from the company?'

‘As you know, we have to look at the victim. And in this case he had a life apart from the Tobin Dance Theatre. We have to investigate that other life.'

‘But …' began Libby.

‘Libby, it's police business,' said Ben. ‘Leave it to Ian. He knows what he's doing.'

Ian grinned. ‘Sometimes. Now I'm going to carry on sleuthing.' He pushed open the auditorium doors and disappeared.

‘Bother. I wanted to ask him what he found out upstairs.' Libby turned a disgruntled face to her beloved.

‘I doubt if he would have told you.'

‘Perhaps not. But what I was going to say to him was, it's all very well Stan having another life, but how would that life connect with this one? It would have to be someone in the company, wouldn't it?'

‘You mean if his murder was connected to another part of his life, someone would have had to infiltrate the company? That's a thought.' Ben did, indeed, look thoughtful.

‘And,' said Libby, warming to this theme, ‘Stan was keeping the secret but felt threatened. That explains what he meant when he said “they” were going to get him next time.'

‘If we've thought of it, you can bet Ian has, too.'

‘Of course he has, that's why he told us about the other life.' Libby cast a speculative glance at the auditorium doors. ‘I bet he's in there now grilling poor Seb.'

Ben laughed. ‘Poor Seb! I'm going to go and see if there's any clearing up to do. I'll see you at home.'

Libby, pausing at the Manor to say goodbye to Hetty, set off home. On the way, she called Fran.

‘You're walking!' Fran accused.

‘Yes, but I couldn't wait until I got home. Ian's looking into Stan's “other life” as he called it.'

‘What does that mean?'

‘Life outside the Tobin Dance Theatre. And it occurred to me, we've never looked him up, have we? Or his granddad or father, or whoever he was. Wally Willis. I know Ian's asked Flo and Lenny what they remember about him.'

‘Didn't you say at some point it couldn't be anything to do with him?'

‘Did I?' Libby gave Nella at the Farm Shop a desultory wave. ‘But we did wonder if it was through his family connections he called the drugs mob off Seb, didn't we?'

‘You did, I believe. So you want me to look him up before you get home and relay you the results?'

‘Well, I can do it myself when I get home …'

‘But I can cut out the leg work. OK, I'll start now. Speak later.'

Fran rang off, and Libby tucked the phone into the pocket of her cape. Modern technology was a wonderful thing.

As she turned the corner into Allhallow's Lane, Bethany Cole, the vicar, was just coming out of her front gate.

‘Hello, Lib. I hear you've got yourself another murder?'

‘Oh, don't!' groaned Libby. ‘I was saying only the other day, I'm a positive jinx, aren't I?'

Beth laughed. ‘Course not! People come to you – it's not as if you go looking for them! I must say I'm looking forward to this production. I'm a huge fan of the male
Swan Lake
.'

‘So am I, but this isn't anywhere near as glamorous. They're rather gruesome, the witches. Patti and Anne are coming on Wednesday.'

‘I'll see if they've got any tickets left for Wednesday, then. When's the box office open?'

‘Online, all the time. Otherwise leave a message on the answerphone. I'll look for you on Wednesday, then. Regards to John.'

‘Of course. Oh, by the way, have they had any protests from religious groups?'

Libby stopped and turned round. ‘I'm not sure,' she said warily. ‘Why?'

‘There are a few hard-line Christian groups who are still inflamed by the thought of witchcraft.'

Libby frowned. ‘I know there were …'

Bethany flicked her long, fair plait. ‘Oh, there still are. Mostly the rather strict sects, you know?'

‘The sort that still think the theatre's a creation of the devil?' said Libby with a grin.

‘That's them. I only ask because a few years ago I was involved with a production of
The Crucible
–'

‘That's the Salem witches, isn't it?'

‘Yes, and we were targeted by one of these groups. Very unpleasant.'

‘You were?' Libby's interest quickened. ‘When you say targeted, how do you mean?'

‘Oh, anonymous letters, graffiti, that sort of thing.'

‘Nothing worse?'

‘I don't think so. Why?'

‘The dance company were targeted like that in London. Could I tell our tame policeman about your experience?'

Beth shrugged. ‘If you like, if you think it might be relevant. But it can't have anything to do with the murder, can it?'

‘I don't know, but the sequence of events began with that sort of targeting, so it's worth telling him. Thanks, Beth.'

Libby arrived at number seventeen, opened the door, tripped down the step and pulled out her phone.

‘Is Ian still there, Ben?'

‘I'll have a look.' She heard him move, then a shout. ‘Yes. Why?'

Libby repeated Beth's tale. ‘I just thought he ought to know.'

‘I'll tell him. He might call in on her when he leaves here.'

‘She was just going out when I saw her.'

‘He can try the church, then. Thanks, Lib.'

Libby discarded cape, bag and phone and went to put the kettle on. By the time it boiled, she'd booted up the laptop and rung Fran again.

‘There are quite a lot of links, and a lot of them are completely irrelevant, but I've emailed you those I think are useful. There's one story in particular you'll be interested in.'

‘There is? What?'

‘Have a look. You'll see. I'm going now, I've got Chrissie arriving any minute.'

‘Lucky you. How's Cassandra?'

‘Don't you mean Montana?'

‘I meant the cat, not the daughter.' Chrissie and her husband Bruce had chosen what their elders thought a very silly name for their only child, and a more sensible one for their cat.

‘Very well, thank you. And I still get told off for calling the child Monty.'

Libby giggled. ‘I'm not surprised. Not known for their sense of humour, your daughter and son-in-law. Go on, then, off you go.'

Libby poured her tea and opened Fran's email. There was a link to an obviously professional CV, with photographs of productions, a link to Stan's former drama school, where he was listed as a visiting lecturer, a few links to productions, one to the Tobin Dance Theatre and none linking Stan to Wally Willis. However, Fran had obviously done a search on this name, too, and here there were more interesting stories.

Fran had put three stars by one link. When Libby opened it, she saw why.

‘Willis accused of taking part in Satanic sex orgy,' read the headline.

‘Golly,' said Libby to Sidney, who had come to sit next to the laptop. The article went on to describe, in guarded 1970s terms, that the ‘orgy', held in the crypt of a disused church, involved both blood-letting and the involvement of children.

The accusations were revealed as part of Wally Willis's trial for implication in a dozen murders.

‘He really was a bad boy,' Libby told Sidney. ‘I got it the wrong way round when I was talking to Seb, didn't I? Stan wasn't frightened of what his father would say about him being gay, he was frightened of turning out like his father.'

A knock on the door startled Sidney, who shot into the kitchen.

‘Ian!' Libby stood aside to let him in. ‘What can I do for you?'

‘Tell me what your vicar said to you. She's not in.'

Libby repeated what Bethany had told her.

‘And there's another thing on similar lines,' she said. ‘I expect you know this already, but Stan's father was involved in so-called Satanic orgies. Well, one, anyway.'

Ian sighed. ‘Yes, we know. It was a nasty little ring of people who were quite high-profile.'

‘High-profile criminals?'

‘And others. You've read about the Krays, haven't you? And their social circle?'

‘Yes, but it wasn't them, was it? It would have come out by now.'

Ian looked pointedly at Libby's mug. ‘Any more in the pot?'

Libby grinned. ‘Am I the only person you know who still makes tea in a pot?'

‘No, you're not, surprisingly.'

Libby looked at him sharply. ‘Who?'

‘Oh, just a couple of people I know. My mother included. Tea?' Ian looked hopeful.

Frustrated, Libby went into the kitchen and topped up the teapot. ‘Right,' she said. ‘Carry on about the orgies.'

‘It was – well, I suppose you'd have called it an organised gang – of criminals who had links to both politicians and show-business personalities. They were often photographed at restaurants with them and emerging from nightclubs. All of them looking for the next high.' Ian's mouth turned down at the corners. ‘Very unsavoury.'

Libby handed him a mug. ‘And I suppose some of the cases have come to light in recent times?'

Ian nodded and followed her into the sitting-room. ‘There were a couple of young women and young men who tried to report it in the seventies, but they weren't believed. What I find incomprehensible is that these orgies were brought into evidence in Willis's trial, yet no further action was taken regarding the children.'

‘Different times,' said Libby, shooing Sidney off the sofa. ‘But does it have anything to do with Stan's murder?'

‘You're bound to have thoughts about it,' said Ian, with a grin. ‘So let's have them.'

Libby repeated her theory about Stan's fear of becoming like his father. ‘I think he must have equated his sexuality with his father's – er – proclivities. This is why he was denying his sexuality. Maybe.'

‘Could be. It could also be why he was against
Pendle
itself.'

Chapter Twenty-three

Libby gaped. ‘He
what
?'

‘Oh, yes. I thought you would have worked that out.' Ian gave her a tired smile.

‘Seb and Damian said he wasn't all for it, but not that he was actually
against
it. So …' Libby's mind was grappling with this new idea. ‘That turns everything on its head, doesn't it?'

‘It certainly puts a new slant on things.' Ian sipped his tea. ‘And your vicar's story of hard-line religious cults adds another dimension. Although we did have a profiler suggest something similar.'

‘You've had a profiler on the case?' Libby was surprised.

‘Yes. I'm not much in favour of them as a rule, but there were aspects of psychological disturbance, certainly regarding the incidents in London.'

‘Oh, yes, I suppose there were.' Libby was thoughtful for a moment. ‘So does it look as if Stan was killed
because
of his objection to
Pendle
?'

‘Possibly.'

‘And not to stop
Pendle
?'

‘Again, possibly.'

‘You're not going to tell me.'

Ian laughed. ‘I've already let out far more than I should. You talk it over with Fran and see where you get to. Only whatever you do, don't go barging off on some hare-brained wild goose chase.'

‘As if we would,' said Libby. ‘Oh, I know what I was going to ask you – did you find out about Paul's background?'

Ian's expression became guarded. ‘In what way?'

‘Well, I told you he was thrown out of a cast, didn't I?'

‘I think it was mentioned.'

‘And he was very keen on seeing the shrine and Grey Betty?'

‘I don't see how that's relevant.'

‘Neither do I, at the moment, but I want to know why he was slung out of a panto cast.'

‘Haven't you ever wanted to get rid of somebody in your cast?' Ian eyed her over the rim of his mug.