Dance of Death (26 page)

When she got back to the house, Audrey Pattinson was so downhearted that she slumped down on the sofa and put her hands to her face. During her time at the Wilder house, she’d felt utterly rejected and made to feel as if she was peripheral to the life of a man she’d seen almost every day for the last few years. It was as if Simon Wilder was being snatched away from her in death and that disturbed her. Though she had wanted to play the organ at his funeral, she could see that it would have been a test of nerve. In a fraught situation, she might have been overwhelmed by emotion and let down a man she’d loved deeply. To some extent, therefore, it was a relief that she was not even considered for the task. Yet that didn’t lessen the pain of rejection or the muted hostility shown towards her by Catherine and her brother.

The sound of the front door opening brought her abruptly out of her gloom and she stood up to greet her husband. Pattinson came into the living room and glanced immediately at the piano.

‘Did you get rid of that dance music?’ he asked.

‘Yes, Martin, I did.’

‘Good – I never liked listening to you playing it.’

‘But you encouraged me to work with Mr Wilder.’

‘I learnt to regret that.’

‘Wait,’ she said as he turned away from her. ‘There’s something I need to ask.’ He faced her again. ‘I seem to have mislaid my notebook.’

‘It’s unlike you to be so careless, Audrey.’

‘I’m
not
careless. I always keep it in my satchel. But when I looked for it earlier, it wasn’t there.’

‘It must have slipped out somehow,’ he said. ‘It might even be at the studio.’

‘I don’t think so. I always check my satchel before I leave.’

‘We all make mistakes.’

‘Are you
sure
you haven’t seen it?’

His eyes blazed momentarily but he was interrupted by the doorbell. He went to open the front door and returned a short while later with Marmion and Keedy. They exchanged greetings with Audrey.

‘If you wish to speak to my wife again,’ said Pattinson, confidently, ‘she’d prefer me to stay. Wouldn’t you, Audrey?’

‘Yes,’ she said, as if by reflex.

‘Actually,’ said Marmion, ‘you’re the one we’d like to interview, sir. Are you happy to have Mrs Pattinson present while we do so?’

‘No, I’m not,’ said the other, glancing at Audrey. She left the room at once. ‘Sit down, gentlemen,’ Pattinson went on. ‘Though I’m not sure how I can help you.’ They each took their seats. ‘I saw very little of Mr Wilder.’

‘What about Mr Atterbury?’ asked Keedy.

‘Who?’

‘Tom Atterbury – he’s a professional dancer.’

‘I don’t consort with people of that kind, Sergeant.’

‘Are you saying that you’ve never heard of him?’

‘Oh, I’ve heard the name,’ admitted Pattinson, freely, ‘because my wife has mentioned it a few times. Mr Atterbury was one of Mr Wilder’s rivals. Beyond that, I know nothing whatsoever about him.’

‘So you didn’t realise that he was a member of your club?’ said Marmion.

‘Is he? I never knew that.’

‘And you’ve no idea where he lives?’

‘Why are you asking me these questions, Inspector? The person you need to speak to is my wife. She knows far more about Atterbury than I do.’

‘I dispute that, sir.’

‘I doubt very much if she knows where Mr Atterbury lives,’ added Keedy, ‘but you certainly do.’

‘What a preposterous accusation!’ exclaimed Pattinson.

‘We have evidence to support it, sir.’

‘I’ve never even met the man.’

‘Then why did you go to his house yesterday evening?’

Pattinson was shocked. He paled slightly but soon recovered.

‘Do you deny it?’ asked Marmion, taking over.

‘What’s all this about evidence?’ demanded the other.

‘Mr Atterbury aroused our interest, sir. We put him under surveillance and, as a result, know that you went back to the house with him. There’s no point in lying. We’ve already spoken to Mr Atterbury and – after a flurry of denials – he confessed that the pair of you met at the club.’

‘Aren’t two people allowed to have a private conversation any more?’ asked Pattinson, bitterly. ‘Are the police taking
that
right away from us as well?’

‘Can I take it that you now admit the pair of you spent time together?’

‘What’s wrong with that, Inspector?’

‘Nothing at all, in theory – so why try to pretend it never happened?’

‘That’s none of your business.’

‘It is if it has a bearing on the murder, sir.’

‘Mr Atterbury is a suspect,’ explained Keedy. ‘When he has a secret meeting with someone else, we take note of that person. Why did you go to the house, sir?’

Pattinson glowered. ‘I don’t have to answer that.’

‘You’re within your rights to refuse.’

‘And we’re within our rights to continue this interview at Scotland Yard,’ said Marmion, ‘where we can explore your reason for withholding information from us.’ He rose to his feet. ‘The car is outside …’

‘Wait,’ said Pattinson, weakening. ‘Look, all that happened is this. I didn’t really know Atterbury but I got talking to him in the bar at the club. He seemed a pleasant enough fellow so I agreed to go back to his house for a drink.’

‘But the two of you were in a bar,’ observed Keedy. ‘Why take a taxi back to Mr Atterbury’s house when all you had to do was to place an order with the barman there and then?’ Pattinson glared at him. ‘Was it because you were afraid of being overheard in a crowded room?’

‘You give the impression that it was the first time you’d met Atterbury,’ said Marmion. ‘Was that the truth, sir?’

‘Yes, it is,’ insisted Pattinson.

‘Did you realise that he was the dancer mentioned by your wife?’

‘Yes, I did.’

‘And did you tell him of your association with Mr Wilder?’

‘No,’ said Pattinson. ‘That never arose.’

‘So what did you find to talk about?’

‘We talked about all kinds of things, Inspector. Heavens above, man, can you remember everything you’ve said when you’ve had a few drinks? We were … passing the time together. Is that a crime?’

‘It begins to look like one when you deny it ever happened.’

‘That’s easy to explain.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes, it is. The fact of the matter is that I’d had far too much whisky and felt rather ashamed of it, so I tried to block it out of my memory. As a rule, I’m very abstemious.’ The detectives glanced meaningfully at the well-stocked drinks trolley in the corner of the room. ‘So I gave myself a stiff reprimand and put the whole incident out of my mind.’ He sat back with relief as if he’d just engineered his escape. ‘That’s exactly what happened.’

‘Thank you for making it clear, sir,’ said Keedy.

‘There’s just one slight problem,’ said Marmion. ‘You’ve given us a frank account of the visit to Mr Atterbury’s house but, for some reason, it doesn’t dovetail with the story that
he
gave us.’ He sat down again. ‘Which one of you is lying?’

Sir Edward Henry went down the corridor in unaccustomed haste, knocked on the door of an office then opened it without invitation. In his hand, he was brandishing a newspaper as if waving a desperate flag on a desert island to a distant vessel. Claude Chatfield was on his feet at once.

‘Have you seen this?’ demanded the commissioner.

‘Regrettably, I have.’

‘How could it have happened?’

‘I don’t know, Sir Edward, but the moment I read it, I came in search of you.’

‘I only got here ten minutes ago,’ said the other. ‘I had breakfast with the Home Secretary. We had, as you may well imagine, rather a lot of things to discuss. When I got back here, the morning newspapers were waiting on my desk and this headline jumped out at me.
POLICE CONFIRM BODY WAS BUTCHERED
.’

‘We confirmed nothing of the sort, Sir Edward.’

‘Then who was responsible for the leak?’

‘I’ve already set a search in motion,’ said Chatfield, ‘and I’ll make a point of tackling the reporter who wrote the story.’

‘That will be pointless. They never reveal their sources.’

‘It’s the other papers we have to worry about now.’

‘You are quite right, Superintendent,’ said Sir Edward, putting the newspaper down. ‘I’ve had two editors on the phone already. They accused me of giving an exclusive to the
Daily Mail
whereas what really happened is that someone was offered a hefty bribe by the paper and they took it.’

‘He’ll be dealt with when we find him.’

‘The damage has already been done, alas.’

‘Unfortunately, it has,’ said Chatfield. ‘When they heard that somebody had been stabbed to death, the residents of Chingford would have felt justifiably nervous. Now that they know the victim was castrated and lost both eyes, they’ll be howling at us for letting a monster prowl their streets.’

‘They’ll be wondering who the next victim is.’

‘They’ve no call to do that, Sir Edward. The killer doesn’t need to strike again because he’s got what he wanted. Simon Wilder was a specific target who was destined to be mutilated in a specific way. Why that was, I don’t know, but the people of Chingford – the men, particularly – needn’t be shivering in their shoes.’

‘You’re going to have a very rowdy press conference today.’

‘I can handle that,’ said Chatfield, arrogantly.

‘How much more are you going to tell them?’

‘What is there left to tell?’

‘You could release the names of suspects, I suppose.’

‘Inspector Marmion has advised against that and I agree with him. Tell people that they’re under suspicion and you forewarn them. We have to move by stealth, as I did in the case of Mr Atterbury.’

‘Oh – what did you do?’

‘I put him under surveillance and he was seen in the company of another of our suspects. Marmion was going to interview both men today.’

‘Does he think that they are the culprits?’

‘He rates them as strong possibilities, Sir Edward.’

‘What about that other dancer? I’ve forgotten his name.’

‘It’s Allan Redmond. He’s the son of Ewart Redmond, M.P.’

‘Then it behoves us to operate with extreme care. Members of Parliament can exert great power and cause embarrassment for us.’

‘That’s what I tried to impress upon Sergeant Keedy. He moved far too soon to arrest Redmond on what I thought was flimsy circumstantial evidence. I ordered the prisoner’s release.’

‘Does that mean he’s
not
the killer?’

‘Far from it, Sir Edward,’ said the other. ‘It means that we stay within the bounds of the law and are seen to do so. Keedy was overzealous. I’ve told him to refrain from confusing instinct with proof. It’s possible that Redmond
is
the killer, or at the very least is in league with him, but I still had to let him go. That will make him feel safe and he’ll be off guard as a result.’

‘What does the inspector think about Redmond?’

‘Marmion has him down as a prime suspect along with Tom Atterbury and Martin Pattinson. There’s also another name in the running, Sir Edward. It’s that of Godfrey Noonan, a disreputable agent with a score to settle against Wilder. It may not be a coincidence that Atterbury is one of his clients.’

Sir Edward stroked his moustache. ‘So we have four suspects in all.’

‘Actually, we have five.’

‘Who’s the other one?’

‘Marmion thinks he should look closely at Mrs Wilder.’

‘She’d never be party to such bestial behaviour, surely,’ said the commissioner in disgust. ‘Castration and gouging out eyes – this is a man’s work.’

‘The man could have been egged on by a woman. Think of Lady Macbeth.’

‘Is Mrs Wilder in the same mould?’

‘Only time will tell, Sir Edward.’

It was still only a matter of days since her husband’s murder but Catherine Wilder had already got used to his absence. Having gone through the motions of being a broken-hearted widow, she was now waiting to get the funeral out of the way and to shift the attention off herself. Cards and letters were still arriving in large numbers, expressing sympathy and saying what a supreme dancer her husband had been. The vast majority of them were from women, many of whom he’d taught. Catherine felt no obligation to carry on her husband’s work. When a back injury ended her own career, she had to look elsewhere for fulfilment and it was not in the world of dance.

‘Well,’ said her brother, putting a sheaf of papers into his briefcase. ‘I think that we’ve sorted everything out now.’

‘Thank goodness for that.’

‘I’ll go and speak to the undertaker.’

‘Please do, Nathan. I’m so grateful for your help.’

‘You can come with me, if you wish.’

‘I’d rather leave it to you. I’d only be in the way.’

‘Is there anything else we need to discuss?’

‘No,’ she replied, ‘but I would value your help again tomorrow.’

‘Ah, yes, you’re going to see Simon’s solicitor. I’d certainly like to be there to lend my support. Solicitors can be cagey. I talk their language.
He won’t even try to slip anything past you while I’m there.’

‘That’s very reassuring.’

She gave him a light kiss on the cheek then walked into the hall with him. He put on his hat, opened the door and went across to his car. She waved him off and stood there until the vehicle was out of sight. Catherine then closed the door and went straight upstairs to change out of her dark dress to put on something more colourful. As she sat in front of the dressing table mirror, she kept one eye on the clock on the bedside table. Time was running out. Her brother had stayed longer than she’d hoped but he was safely out of the way now.

When she heard the chug of an engine and the swish of tyres, she went to the window and saw the taxi drawing up outside the house. A few minutes later, she was being driven towards central London.

Marmion sat at the table and pored over Simon Wilder’s appointments book. Though he had been through it many times, another study of the contents always provided fresh information. Keedy, meanwhile, was on the telephone to Claude Chatfield, making an overdue apology for his behaviour when they last met and being rewarded with a frosty silence at the other end of the line. He put the receiver down and ran a worried hand through his hair.

‘Chat is determined to make me suffer,’ he said.

‘You deserve it, Joe.’

‘He insists that I deliver my apology in person.’

‘That sounds reasonable to me.’

‘He’ll probably want me in a kneeling position.’

‘Don’t forget the sackcloth and ashes.’ Marmion tapped the book. ‘I’ve been taking a look at this.’

‘
Again
?’ said Keedy. ‘You must know the contents off by heart.’

‘I still haven’t plumbed its full depths. For example, I spotted something today that I’ve never noticed before.’

‘What is it – something in invisible ink?’

‘It’s almost invisible, Joe, and that’s why I missed it. Take a look at this page for me,’ he said, offering him the book. ‘What do you notice about it?’

Keedy held the book and studied it. ‘All I can see is a list of names.’

‘Look again.’

‘I am looking again and I still see nothing but the same names.’

‘What about Colette Orme?’

‘She’s here. She had her lesson and paid her fee.’

‘Is that all you see?’

Keedy’s scrutiny was more careful this time. ‘No, it isn’t,’ he said. ‘There’s a very faint mark beside her name. Something in pencil has been rubbed out.’

‘Well done – you’re improving.’

‘It looks like a small tick.’

‘That’s exactly what it is. Now turn over the page.’ Keedy did so. ‘Look at the name of Grenda Hayward. Do you notice anything?’

‘Yes,’ said Keedy, crossing to the window and letting more light fall on the book. ‘It’s the same tick rubbed out again.’

‘I’ve counted five in all,’ said Marmion, ‘and I’ve only gone back over the last year. Five female dancers have been picked out for some reason.’

‘We can both guess what that reason was,’ said Keedy with a cackle. ‘Wilder is making a note of his conquests.’

‘Oh, I don’t think it’s that easy, Joe.’

‘Why not?’

‘Colette Orme is among them. She may have been entranced by Wilder but I don’t think she gave herself to him – or to any other man,
for that matter. There’s a refreshing innocence about her that you won’t see in … well, in Odele Thompson, for instance.’

Keedy frowned. ‘Do you have to bring
her
up?’

‘She proves my point. If anyone was likely to fall for Wilder’s charms, it was the woman who spent so much time being held by him on the dance floor. I think it’s fair to say that
you
established she was not a blushing flower. She admitted that she’d been Redmond’s lover at one time.’

Keedy was perplexed. ‘You’re very mystifying today.’

‘My point is simple. There’s no tick beside Odele Thompson’s name.’

‘So?’

‘Whatever it signifies, it’s not a conquest in bed. If that’s what the tick meant, she’d probably have a dozen or more beside her name.’

‘I’m beginning to see what you mean,’ said Keedy, thoughtfully. ‘These ladies were picked out for another reason altogether. Whatever can it be?’

‘There’s only one way to find out, Joe.’

‘I’m blowed if I see what it is.’

‘We talk to one of the dancers who earned herself a tick, and one who didn’t, but we have to be very discreet. It may be that this young lady didn’t realise she was chosen for a particular purpose. I don’t suppose you’d like to canvass Odele’s opinion, would you?’

‘No,’ replied Keedy, putting the book down firmly on the table.

‘Then I’ll reserve that delight for myself. You can talk to someone else.’

‘Who is it?’

‘It’s his star pupil – Colette Orme.’

Colette Orme had no idea what to do. Needing help and advice, there was nowhere she could turn. Her father would not supply it and,
although he was always at her beck and call, neither could her brother. She realised that she had been floating on a cloud of promises, none of which could now be kept. Simon Wilder, her mentor, friend and inspiration, had promised her fame as a dancer and his continuous support throughout her career. His murder had revoked those promises. He’d made other commitments to her as well but, as she discovered when she spoke to his wife, they would never be honoured. Colette felt abandoned, bereft and frightened.

The one person who might help her was Audrey Pattinson but she was wary of appealing to her. Though they were good friends, there were some things she’d concealed from the pianist because she didn’t know what the older woman’s reaction would be. And yet she’d been given a cordial welcome when she called at Audrey’s home and their shared love of Wilder had brought them closer together. Colette was impaled on the horns of a dilemma. She could either hope that, in time, there’d be no revelations to embarrass her; or she could approach Audrey and risk losing her respect and her friendship. It was an almost impossible choice to make.

After brooding on it obsessively, she forced herself to leave the house.

As she let Marmion into her flat, Odele Thompson expressed her disappointment.

‘I was rather hoping that Sergeant Keedy would come,’ she said.

‘You’ll have to put up with me as his substitute, I’m afraid.’

‘Oh, I didn’t mean to be rude, Inspector.’

‘I understand, Miss Thompson.’

‘It’s just that I … enjoyed talking to him.’

‘Sergeant Keedy enjoyed talking to you as well and he sends his regards. As it is, he has another interview to conduct. I chose to visit you.’

‘I don’t really have anything more to say so your visit is pointless.’

‘It may not be.’

They sat down and Marmion told her about the sequence of ticks in Wilder’s appointments book. She asked for some of the names that he’d picked out and he rattled them off from memory.

‘I know them all,’ she said, ‘and each one is young and very pretty. Grenda Hayward could turn any man’s head and you’ve seen how beautiful Colette Orme is.’

‘Why did he single them out?’

‘It’s not for the obvious reason,’ said Odele. ‘I’m not claiming that Simon was a saint, because he certainly wasn’t. But his taste ran to ladies of a very different kind. Catherine would have spotted the signs if he’d started chasing any of the pupils you’ve listed and she’d have challenged him.’

‘So what’s significant about the names I gave you?’ asked Marmion. ‘Are they simply young and attractive? Is that what links them?’

‘Not really, Inspector. If those were the two factors he picked out, there were other names he could have ticked. Annie Lakin is a case in point. She’s the most gorgeous of the whole lot yet she wasn’t in your list. And I can think of one or two others who’d fit the category of young and pretty.’ She laughed. ‘There was a time when
my
name might have been included.’

‘It still could be,’ he said, gallantly.

She inclined her head. ‘That’s very kind of you, Inspector.’

‘Anyway, I won’t intrude any longer. Thanks for your help, Miss Thompson.’