Murder and the Pantomime Cat Page 5

  ‘But still – why?’ Libby frowned. ‘And why didn’t we know they’d become such good friends?’

  Peter smiled. ‘And they looked at each other with such a wild surmise.’

  ‘It’s not that,’ said Harry. ‘My gaydar has never gone off near Ian or Edward.’

  ‘And remember Ian and Fran,’ said Libby.

  ‘Maybe we’ll get to know Ian a little better through Edward,’ said Ben comfortably. ‘Now, any more wine for anyone?’

  As soon as Ben had left for his distillery on Tuesday morning, Libby called Fran.

  ‘It’s all right, I know,’ said Fran.

  ‘What do you know? You don’t know what I was going to say.’

  ‘That Ian came round to see you last night.’

  ‘Oh. Yes.’

  ‘He called this morning.’

  ‘Oh!’ Libby frowned at Sidney, who was twining hopefully round her ankles. ‘He didn’t call me.’

  ‘He wanted to tell me what he told you last night, and to say an officer would be round to take a statement later this morning, and if you were here, you could give yours at the same time.’

  ‘Cheek!’ said Libby.

  Fran laughed. ‘No, why? Because he knows us so well? Anyway, are you coming down? Clemency rang as well. She’d like to talk to us, too.’

  ‘Oh, OK. I must get back at a reasonable time, though. I’ve got panto rehearsal tonight and we’ve got a costume fitting going on at the same time.’

  ‘Rather you than me,’ said Fran. ‘I’ll see you in – what? An hour?’

  ‘Ish,’ said Libby. ‘I’m not dressed yet.’

  In fact, it was after 11 o’clock when Libby arrived at Coastguard Cottage, to find Clemency already sitting in front of the woodburner in the sitting room looking miserable.

  ‘What’s been going on, then?’ asked Libby, shrugging off her new cape. ‘Are they letting you open today?’

  ‘No,’ said Fran, as Clemency shook her head. ‘And it looks as though Ian’s butted in and made himself SIO.’

  ‘Oh, dear. That won’t make him popular.’

  ‘You wouldn’t have thought so, but it appears that they actually asked him.’

  ‘They did?’ Libby’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Why?’

  ‘Because he has experience with what DS Morgan called “these sort of cases”,’ said Fran. ‘He told Clemency.’

  ‘They’ve been to see you, have they?’ Libby turned to the younger woman. ‘What did they say?’

  ‘She was just telling me,’ said Fran. ‘Give her a chance.’

  ‘Bryony called us all yesterday late afternoon to tell us what had happened, but Cooper wasn’t satisfied and turned up at the theatre. They practically arrested him on the spot, according to him.’ Clemency gave a nervous little laugh. ‘He phoned us all when they let him go, trying to get sympathy, I think. Anyway, he said he doubted they’d let us go on today, and he was right. DS Morgan came to see me earlier – about nine, it was.’

  ‘What did he ask?’

  ‘Had I known Ackroyd before this panto, mainly. And where was I yesterday. I told him what Ackroyd had said about me getting the part and what we thought he probably said to everyone else. And then he asked to speak to Mum.’

  ‘Did he?’ Fran looked startled. ‘Why?’

  ‘Because he accused me of getting the part through her, I suppose.’ Clemency’s brow wrinkled. ‘They sent me out of the room, and Mum wouldn’t tell me afterwards. It was scary.’

  There was a sharp knock on the front door.

  ‘That’ll be the police now,’ said Libby. ‘You’d better go in the kitchen, Clemmie.’

  Fran opened the door to disclose DC Bennett on the step, looking sheepish.

  ‘Mrs Wolfe,’ he said, bobbing his head. ‘All right if I come in?’

  He stopped dead when he saw Clemency about to enter the kitchen.

  ‘I take it DCI Connell sent you to take statements from Mrs Wolfe and me?’ said Libby, taking the bull by the horns. ‘Miss Knight was just telling us about her own interview, but she’ll go into the kitchen while you talk to us.’

  DC Bennett’s mouth closed with a snap.

  ‘Do sit down, officer,’ said Fran, smiling kindly. ‘A lot of work for you, I imagine, a case like this. Not easy, just before Christmas.’

  ‘Er – no, ma’am.’ DC Bennett perched on the edge of one of Fran’s beautiful button-back chairs and took out a tablet.

  ‘High tech today?’ said Libby. ‘Easier to share information, I suppose.’

  ‘Er – yes.’ DC Bennett cleared his throat. ‘If I could just ask you to tell me what you did yesterday afternoon? You first, Mrs Wolfe.’

  Patiently, Fran took him through the whole afternoon in painstaking detail. Then Libby recapped the lot.

  ‘And you didn’t know any of the cast of the pantomime before the – um – production?’

  ‘Yes, we did. We knew Clemency Knight. She’s a family friend,’ said Fran. ‘That’s why she’s here today.’

  ‘But not Ackroyd Lane?’

  ‘Well,’ said Fran, ‘I had actually met him before.’

  Bennett practically fell off the chair. ‘When?’

  ‘I can’t remember exactly, but it must be at least twenty-five years ago.’

  ‘Twenty-five…’

  ‘Yes, sorry. He wasn’t known as Ackroyd Lane in those days. But you can ask DCI Connell about that. He knows all about it.’

  After a moment’s thought, Bennett asked a couple more desultory questions, then left.

  Clemency came out of the kitchen. ‘Does your DCI really know about Ackroyd?’ she said.

  ‘Yes,’ said Libby. ‘And in fact, another friend of ours knew him in his really early days. It’s not a pretty tale.’

  ‘Are you going to meet up with the others today?’ asked Fran hastily, guessing that Libby was about to spill the Bill Ackroyd story.

  ‘Yes. Cooper wanted us all to go out to where they’re staying, but we voted for The Swan.’

  ‘Good for you! Did he complain?’

  ‘Apparently, yes.’ Clemency grinned. ‘But Sam told him we were all meeting in The Swan, and he could come if he wanted or not – just as he liked. He’s coming.’

  ‘Do you want us there?’ asked Libby.

  ‘Sam did ask me to ask you. He said, as you were there yesterday…’

  ‘What time?’ asked Fran.

  ‘Half past twelve. I think he’s managed to get a private room.’

  Clemency left and Fran and Libby sat looking at one another.

  ‘What are we supposed to do?’ said Libby.

  ‘Provide moral support,’ said Fran. ‘Nothing else we can do.’

  ‘Have you got any ideas?’

  ‘What? About who did it? No, of course not.’

  Libby got up and wandered to the window. ‘I thought you might have. Who are the suspects?’

  ‘Heavens, I don’t know! The cast, I suppose.’

  ‘And the crew? He might just as well have known the crew back in the day as the actors.’

  ‘You can ask them, then,’ said Fran. ‘Shall we have some lunch before we go?’

  The Swan wasn’t terribly busy. Clemency was waiting with Sam in the main bar area, and smiled with relief as Libby and Fran came in.

  ‘We’re in a room back there,’ said Sam, waving a vague hand. ‘I’m so pleased you’ve come.’

  ‘Er – yes.’ Libby smiled back. ‘Shall we go in?’

  The last to arrive was, predictably, Cooper Fallon, followed by a timid Holly Westcott. Once everyone was seated, Sam tapped the table and cleared his throat.

  ‘We just thought we ought to get together, to see – er – where we – um – stand.’

  ‘What’s the position taken by management?’ Cooper Fallon looked at Libby and Fran. ‘Presumably you can tell us?’

  Fran opened her mouth and shut it again. Libby took a deep breath.

  ‘There is no position as such. The police do not want the
show going ahead until they’ve completed their enquiries. There is nothing management or cast can do about it. They will let us know when they consider it safe to let us go ahead.’

  ‘Safe! That’s preposterous!’ Cooper burst out. ‘What about our contracts?’

  ‘Contracts?’ Libby raised what she hoped were supercilious eyebrows. ‘Contracts tend not to include clauses about murder.’

  There were a few sniggers and Cooper glared round at the company.

  ‘Mrs Sarjeant and Mrs Wolfe have had experience with this sort of thing before,’ said Sam. ‘I suggest they tell us what they think.’

  Fran looked horrified.

  Clemency stood up. ‘I think you all know who my mother is, and what Ackroyd had to say about that, but what I can tell you is that Fran and Libby – Mrs Wolfe and Mrs Sarjeant – helped her a great deal in similar circumstances a few years ago. At least they could tell us what to expect.’

  They were a few ‘hear, hears’ and other murmurs of encouragement, although Cooper Fallon didn’t appear enthusiastic.

  ‘You tell ’em,’ whispered Fran.

  Libby stood up and smiled at Clemency.

  ‘Thank you, Clemmie,’ she said. ‘Now, the main thing I can tell you – from experience – is that if you try and conceal anything from the police they will inevitably find it out, and the fact of concealing it will make the whole investigative process far more difficult, and may, in fact, get you into trouble.’

  ‘What happens next?’ asked the squeaky-voiced chorus member. ‘Will they come and see us?’

  ‘If they haven’t done already,’ said Libby. ‘Who has spoken to the police?’

  ‘Me,’ said Sam.

  ‘And me,’ said Clemency.

  ‘I have,’ said Brandon.

  ‘So have I,’ said Mark.

  ‘And me,’ said Sheila.

  ‘So the only two who haven’t are Holly and Cooper?’ said Libby. ‘What about chorus and crew?’

  Most of the chorus had been interviewed together in their boarding house by Bennett and Morgan, and some of the technical crew who lived locally.

  ‘We didn’t know him, though,’ said a large, balding man wearing a thick fleece. ‘We’re local. He wasn’t. Unpleasant git, by all accounts, though.’

  ‘Pain in the neck to work with,’ said another, a small, wiry man with hunched shoulders. ‘Never kept to his mark.’

  ‘You Lighting?’ asked Libby.

  ‘Follow spot, yeah.’ He shook his head. ‘He darted in and out and then shouted at us because he couldn’t find his light.’

  There were more murmurs of agreement.

  ‘And did you tell the police this?’ asked Fran.

  ‘Well, no.’ The two crew members looked at one another. ‘We didn’t think they’d understand.’

  Libby sighed. ‘You must. How will they know what sort of person he was unless they hear all of this?’

  They looked uncomfortable.

  ‘Right, anything else anyone want to tell either us or the police? We’ll pass it on, but you must realise that if the police think it’s significant, they’ll want to speak to you about it.’ Libby sat down and looked round at the company.

  Cooper was still huffing to himself. Holly had gone to sit next to Mark Jones, whose arm rested along the back of her chair. She tentatively raised her arm.

  ‘He wasn’t very kind,’ she said quietly.

  ‘No.’ Libby smiled at her, and the rest of the company made encouraging noises.

  ‘He was bloody awful,’ said Mark. ‘The things he said to Holly.’

  ‘The things he said to all of us,’ said Sheila. ‘He was a bastard.’

  ‘OK,’ said Libby. ‘What exactly did he say? And was it in the hearing of others?’

  ‘Mostly not,’ said old Brandon, in his deep rumbling voice. ‘I think you’ve heard – and seen – some of the things he got up to…’

  ‘That was why we were going to speak to him yesterday,’ said Sam.

  ‘But the police won’t understand how awful his tricks were,’ said Libby.

  ‘They will want to know personal threats, if there are any,’ said Fran. ‘Were there?’

  There was a good deal of glancing out of the corners of eyes and shuffling feet.

  Libby gave an exasperated sigh.

  ‘Look, you don’t have to tell us here and now, but you really must tell the police when they ask,’ she said.

  Brandon stood up. ‘I’d rather tell you,’ he said. ‘You can tell the police.’

  ‘The same thing I said earlier holds good,’ said Libby. ‘They would still want to speak to you themselves.’

  ‘I don’t see why,’ Sheila rasped out. ‘I keep myself to myself.’

  ‘Hmm,’ said Fran under her breath.

  ‘If they want to speak to me they can make an appointment,’ said Cooper, loftily.

  ‘I don’t think it works like that,’ said Libby gently.

  Cooper made a dismissive sound and threw himself against the back of his chair.

  ‘Well,’ said Sam, ‘I suggest if anyone’s got anything they feel might interest the police they tell Fran and Libby and see what they think.’ He looked round at his company and shrugged.

  ‘They won’t,’ said Fran quietly. ‘They’re all scared.’

  Cooper stood up. ‘I’m going for lunch,’ he said. ‘I take it this is on expenses?’

  Sam looked shocked. ‘I – um – I don’t think…’

  Cooper glared. ‘Well, I’m going. Coming, Holly?’

  ‘N-no, thanks.’ Holly gave him a frightened look and moved closer to Mark. The rest of the company began to move. Libby and Fran stayed where they were, until nearly everyone had left the room.

  ‘Told you,’ said Fran. ‘It was a good idea, Sam, but they won’t.’

  ‘I will.’ Brandon moved up to a chair at their table. ‘I don’t know if it’ll be any use, but I can’t keep quiet.’

  Sam, Clemency, Fran and Libby looked at him in surprise. Sam shifted in his seat.

  ‘If you’d rather we went…’ he began.

  ‘No, stay.’ Brandon sighed heavily. ‘I’d rather get it off my chest. After all, anyone could have heard the poisonous little remarks that prat made. I certainly heard some of the things he said to other people. He wasn’t exactly confidential about it.’

  ‘I told you,’ said Clemency. ‘And they all knew what he thought about me.’

  Brandon leant over and patted her arm. ‘My dear Clemmie,’ he said, ‘you’re an actor to your fingertips, mother or no mother. I’ve known you a good long time, after all.’

  Clemency blushed.

  ‘No, mine was far more shameful.’ Brandon sighed again. ‘Or at least, it was. I started in the early sixties, you see.’

  ‘Ah,’ said Libby. Brandon gave her a tight little smile. ‘Yes, my dear. I was “one of those”, as we were called then.’

  ‘But…’ began Sam again.

  Libby turned on him.

  ‘Look, it’s no good saying “but that doesn’t matter now”. It did then.’ She turned back to Brandon.

  ‘Well, you’ve guessed, haven’t you? I got into trouble. And no, Sam, it doesn’t matter now, although I’ve lost the taste for it nowadays. But it got me the sack back in the sixties and there was a time I thought I’d never work again - though thanks to a friend of yours,’ he bowed towards Fran and Libby, ‘I did. But little Bill just loved to remind me.’

  ‘Bill?’ said Sam.

  ‘Andrew?’ said Fran and Libby together.

  ‘Yes, Andrew,’ said Brandon. ‘And Bill – that was Ackroyd Lane’s real name.’

  ‘Yes, we knew that,’ said Libby, ‘and I think, so would Andrew.’

  ‘I don’t understand this,’ said Sam. ‘Why would it matter?’

  ‘Old scandal,’ said Fran. ‘He was an unpleasant little tyke, wasn’t he?’

  ‘What about the others?’ asked Libby. ‘You said you heard what he said about the others.’

>   ‘Their stories, dear,’ said Brandon. ‘I don’t tell tales out of school.’ He stood up and smiled at his little audience. ‘Do tell your police friends, won’t you?’

  ‘Well,’ said Libby, when Brandon had made his stately way out of the room. ‘What do we think?’

  Clemency looked uncomfortable. ‘I think I sort of knew that,’ she said. ‘And I did tell you – well, Mark and I did – that his favourite trick was his sly little comments about things in the past. That’s obviously what he was doing with Brandon.’

  ‘And who else, do you think?’ asked Fran.

  ‘Oh, I couldn’t -’

  ‘I could,’ said Sam, sitting up straight in his chair. ‘He tried it on me.’

  ‘You?’ said three voices together.

  ‘Yes, me. Your lovely mum knows,’ he said to Clemency.

  ‘Oh, yes,’ said Libby, remembering Coolidge’s ‘lame duck’ remark.

  ‘But what I did,’ said Sam, cheeks glowing a Father Christmas red, ‘was actually criminal.’

  ‘So is molesting underage children,’ said Libby.

  ‘Er - yes,’ said Sam, looking surprised. ‘What I meant was…’ he swallowed. ‘I – um – misappropriated funds.’ He lowered his eyes and looked miserable.

  For a moment there was silence.

  ‘And what did Ackroyd say he would do?’ asked Fran gently.

  ‘Tell management. And the cast.’ Sam looked almost about to cry.

  Clemency suddenly leant forward and kissed his cheek. ‘If Mum knew, then management did, probably. It wasn’t kept completely quiet, was it?’

  ‘Well, no, but I didn’t work for a few years.’

  ‘And now that’s over. I bet it wouldn’t have made any difference,’ said Clemency.

  ‘She’s right, you know,’ said Libby. ‘Brace up, Sam. And tell us what else he was doing.’

  Sam looked round at the three women and smiled a little tremulously. ‘Thank you,’ he said, then cleared his throat and sat up straight. ‘Anyway, he kept dropping hints about other members of the cast, suggesting they weren’t good enough and had disreputable pasts. Brandon was one, Sheila was another, and Cooper was the one he was most – I don’t know – gleeful about.’

  ‘Good heavens!’said Fran. ‘What had he done?’

  ‘According to Ackroyd, what hadn’t he done.’ Sam looked gloomy.