Authors: Lesley Cookman
âI said get out of my way!' roared Willis.
The door opened behind Libby.
âDon't you shout like that in my house,' said Hetty, coming round to stand by Libby, arms crossed in front of her apron. âSound like a bloody docker, you do.'
Taken aback, Willis wobbled on his sticks, and Ben quickly rounded the desk to support him.
âGet off,' he muttered, but Ben held on.
âI think 'e ought ter go,' said Hetty. âDon't want the likes of 'im in my 'ouse.'
Amused, Libby said, âShall we put him out, Hetty?'
âI'm not goin' bloody anywhere,' said Willis, eyeing Hetty warily.
âThen it'll 'ave to be the police,' said Hetty, unmoved. âBen, call â'
âAll right, all right.' Willis struggled back to his chair. âBloody women.'
Ben stifled a snort and Hetty winked at Libby. Just as she did so, they heard the unmistakable sound of tyres on gravel.
âThat'll be Ian,' said Libby, and went to let him in.
âYou've just missed Hetty getting the better of him,' she whispered, as she led him and a wide-eyed detective constable to the office.
âI wish I'd seen that,' he whispered back and entered the office behind her.
âHello, Hetty, Ben,' he said. âThis is DC Irons. Who's this?'
âMr Wally Willis,' said Ben. âStan Willis's father.'
âOh, yes.' Ian didn't hold out a hand. Neither did Wally Willis. âI believe one of my officers went to see you in London last week?'
Willis nodded, looking even more wary now.
âIs there anything we can do for you now you're here?' continued Ian.
âLet me into that theatre.' It came out as a growl.
Ian glanced at Ben, who shook his head.
âNot just at the moment, sir.' Ian moved round to the side of Ben's desk, forcing Willis to turn and face him. âWho did you want to see?'
âThat bloody Tobing!'
âMr 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.
âI'm afraid he can't tell you any more about your son's death than I can. What did you want to know?'
â'Is fuckin' fault, innit?' The roar was back.
âNo, 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.
âNow, Mr Willis,' said Ian. âAs you're here, perhaps you wouldn't mind answering a few questions. DC Irons will just take a few notes.
âAlready talked to your lot.'
âI know, sir, but there are a few things I'd like to clarify.'
â'Oo are you?'
âDetective Chief Inspector Connell, I'm senior investigating officer on the enquiry into Mr Willis junior's death.'
Willis grunted.
âBen, Libby, I'm sorry to turn you out, but â¦' Ian smiled deprecatingly.
âOK, we're going,' said Ben with an answering grin. âCome on, Lib.'
As they left, they heard Willis ask, âFriends o' yours, are they? That's 'andy, innit?'
âWhat a horrible man,' said Libby as they entered the kitchen.
âLots like 'im in the East End,' said Hetty. âOught to ask Flo up to have a look at him.'
âAs a curiosity?' suggested Ben. âAre you making Ian tea?'
âYes. Mugs this time. 'Ere, Lib, you can take 'em in.'
âI'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.
âIs it Stan's father? Is he here?'
âYes, he is. I thought you said you didn't know him?' Libby frowned at him.
âI don't â 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.
âNow, what do you mean by that? And if you didn't want him to know you were here, why did you come over?'
âBecause 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.
âWhy are you scared, Seb?' Libby sat down beside him.
âAfter 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.'
âAnd how did you know he was here?' asked Ben.
âMax 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.'
âOK,' said Ben. âGo into the kitchen. Where are you sleeping now, by the way?'
âOh, they've let me back into the room in the hotel. They've taken all Stan's stuff away.'
âRight, 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 âLook after him, Hetty!' and returned to Ben.
âDid he seem unduly scared to you?' asked Ben.
âHmmm.' Libby looked thoughtful. âHe 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.'
âHe'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.'
âPerhaps 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.
âI'm sorry to be a nuisance,' he began, and Libby raised her eyebrows, âbut would one of you mind fetching Tobin over here?'
âI'll go,' said Ben.
âSebastian's hiding in the kitchen,' said Libby. âHe doesn't want to meet Stan's father.'
âNow why would that be?' Ian frowned.
âGo and ask him?' Libby suggested.
âNot 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.'
âDo you think he still has the power to cause any real grief?' asked Libby.
âAssociates, you mean? There's certainly some influence there, especially if Seb is right and Stan got the hounds called off. When was that?'
âI don't know. Couple of years, maybe?'
Ben arrived, with Max in tow looking worried.
âWhat does he want?' he asked Ian.
âSatisfaction,' said Ian with a grin. âBut I felt it was only fair to let him see you.'
âUnder supervision,' put in Libby.
âExactly,' agreed Ian. âReady?'
âAren't you two coming?' Max looked at Libby and Ben.
âNo. Not our business,' said Ben. âWe'll wait here.'
âShall we go and relieve Hetty in the kitchen?' suggested Libby.
âYou 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.
âYou 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.
âYou want some?' asked Hetty.
âNo, thanks. I've just come to cheer Seb up.'
Sebastian looked up. âHas he gone?'
âNo. He's in there talking to Max, now.'
âTo Max? What for?'
âIt was Max he came to see. I think he holds him responsible for Stan's death.'
Seb's eyes widened. âHe thinks
Max
killed Stan?'
âNo, I don't think that, I think he thinks that because it happened while Stan was in Max's company he bears the responsibility.'
âThat's mad.' But Seb wasn't quite as firm about it as he could have been, thought Libby.
âYou've got a doubt, there, haven't you?' she said.
âWell, I just thought â unless it was actually being in the company â¦'
âSomething to do with the company? Or the piece itself?'
âWell, yes.' Seb looked up at Libby. âAfter all, Stan didn't like
Pendle
. He didn't think we should be doing it.'
âAnd you never knew why that was?' said Libby.
âNo-o. But then, I never knew what was behind half of Stan's moods. He was a very difficult person, you know.'
âI gathered that,' said Libby. âI wish there was someone else we could talk to about him. And don't suggest his father.'
âYou know, I'm surprised he's here.' Seb looked back at his mug. âThey didn't see much of one another.'
âI thought you didn't know anything about his father?' Libby narrowed her eyes at him.
âI didn't!' said Seb quickly. âNo, what I meant was, over the time I was living and working with him, he never once went to see his father.'
âHow do you know?'
âHe never went out,' said Seb simply. âOnly to work, occasionally to the theatre or another ballet company, and I always went with him.'
âI see.' Libby tapped a finger on the table. âBut 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.'
âI'm sure they weren't.' Seb shook his head.
âBut you do think now that it was the father's criminal connections that got you off the hook?'
âWell, you pointed it out.' Seb wasn't looking at her.
Ben put his head round the door.
âHe's going.'
âWillis?'
âYes. 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.
âSome 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.'
âWhat 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.
âReal “Mr Big” stuff,' murmured Libby.
âHe'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.
âWhat did he say?' asked Libby.
âVery little to any purpose,' said Ian. âBluster, mostly. I think we'd spiked his guns. If he could have gone straight into the theatre and cornered Mr Tobin there â well, I think there might have been some damage.'
Max sighed. âBut he's right in a way, isn't he?'
âRight? How?' said Ben.
âHe 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. âDo you have any idea what he meant by Sebastian Long causing Stan Willis trouble?'
Max lifted his head. âDid 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.'
âSo did he ask you to pay him?' said Libby.
âNo, but I did. Actually, Seb has turned out to be incredibly helpful, although I wouldn't say his heart was in it.'
âI think he's hiding something,' said Libby.
âEveryone's hiding something,' said Ian. âComes with the territory.'
âYes, but when I first talked to Seb about Stan's father being a criminal â of course, I didn't know he was still alive, then â he didn't seem to know anything about it, yet now he's obviously scared.'
âWhich argues that he's found something out,' said Ben. âBut how? The police took all Stan's belongings.'
Ian looked at Max. âStill not remembered what you went to the theatre for, Mr Tobin?'
âNo. Oh â you think I might have gone to look for something to do with Stan?' He paused. âAnd â what? Seb came and bashed me on the head and took it?'
Ian shrugged. âLet's have Mr Long in and ask him.'
âOh, I say!' said Max, turning a pleasant shade of pink.
But Libby was already at the kitchen door.
âCome along, Seb,' she called. âCome and join the party.'
Seb shuffled along the corridor towards the office and sidled into the room behind her.
âDid you follow Mr Tobin into the theatre on Sunday morning?' Ian asked without preamble.
Seb's mouth dropped open. âNo, I did not!' he stuttered. âI was having breakfast â Damian can tell you!'
âI thought you only came down as he was going out of the front door?' said Libby. âAnd Damian was only there a minute or two before you.'
âYes, 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. âIs that right, Mr Tobin?'
âAs far as I know,' said Max, frowning. âI remember leaving the pub.'
âWould you mind leaving me and Mr Long alone for a minute or two?' Ian said. âSorry to turn you out again, Ben.'