Free Murder Dancing by Lesley Cookman

very pale at the moment. That young doctor over the road is on his way. We didn’t think it was worth calling an ambulance.’
    As he was speaking, the doctor himself pushed through the auditorium doors and joined them by the stage. Ben took him into the wings.
    â€˜I heard.’ Peter was standing behind her. ‘Two incidents in one day. Whatever it is, it hasn’t been left behind in London.’
    Max emerged from the wings frowning.
    â€˜This is ridiculous.’ He pushed a hand through his hair and addressed his company, all of whom were sitting tense and worried. ‘All of you go back to the Manor for the time being. I’ll come across and tell you what’s happening when I’ve worked out what to do.’
    â€˜I’ll go and organise coffee,’ said Libby. ‘Hetty was going to make some earlier, so I expect it will all be prepared.’
    â€˜You haven’t got decaf, have you?’ asked Max with a wry smile. ‘I don’t want them more het up than they are already.’
    â€˜Believe it or not, Hetty got some in specially,’ said Libby. ‘It was her sop to sophistication!’
    The dancers had trailed disconsolately out of the theatre and Libby followed them and went to the Manor kitchen. Hetty was standing, hands on hips, at the kitchen table behind two urns.
    â€˜What’s happened now?’
    Libby told her.
    â€˜Saw that young Dr Peasegood rushing up. So I got the coffee back on.’ Hetty shook her head. ‘Something goin’ on over there.’ She cocked an eyebrow at Libby.
    â€˜Yes, Het, looks like it.’ Libby heaved the first urn on to the trolley. ‘I’ll take this through. They’re all in there looking like a wet week of Mondays.’
    â€˜Decaf,’ she announced, pushing the trolley into the big sitting-room, where the dancers were draped in attitudes of extreme depression all over the furniture. They certainly knew how to express their feelings with their bodies, thought Libby, beginning to fill coffee cups. When she brought in the second urn, the atmosphere had lifted markedly.
    â€˜News?’ She raised an enquiring eyebrow.
    â€˜Yes.’ Sebastian appeared from the midst of a group of dancers. ‘Max says we’re to carry on from where we left off when we’re ready.’
    â€˜What about Stan?’
    â€˜The doctor’s taken him off to the surgery, and said he’s to rest today. I can do whatever’s necessary for rehearsal and your Ben’s said he’ll help me. We’ve got to check over the Kabuki at some point, too.’
    â€˜Is Stan happy about that?’
    Seb’s face darkened. ‘He’s not happy about anything.’
    â€˜Same person that fixed up the rat?’ asked a quiet voice in Libby’s ear. She turned to see Jonathan frowning at Seb.
    â€˜I don’t know. What do you think?’
    â€˜Got to be. Can’t have been two people fooling about with the barrels in the watches of the night, can there?’
    Libby nodded. It seemed an age since the morning’s discovery of the rat.
    â€˜It’s odd, though. The rat wasn’t meant to harm anyone, was it? But the Kabuki definitely was.’
    â€˜And it was definitely Stan,’ said Jonathan. ‘He’s the only one who operates it.’
    â€˜Could the production go on without him?’ asked Libby.
    â€˜Oh, yes. He would say no, but as Seb just said, he can do everything needed with perhaps a bit of help.’
    â€˜So injuring Stan wouldn’t put paid to the whole thing?’
    â€˜No – but neither would the rat.’
    â€˜Hmm.’ Libby was thoughtful. ‘But whether or not the Kabuki was aimed at Stan, both events were aimed at undermining the production. Just as the events in London were.’
    â€˜You think that’s it? Someone really doesn’t want us to go on?’
    Libby shrugged. ‘The events are so random.