Being ready to take on Brian was one thing, finding him in the
first place was something else entirely. The dancers tried knocking on his
front door but there was no answer. They tried tried banging louder but it made
no difference. Agnes even tried rattling the letter box flap.
"What now?" asked Dennis feeling slightly deflated. He
had psyched himself up for a battle and was now a bit put out.
"I'm thinking," replied Cecil. Brian was rarely away
from home. If he wasn't carrying out the three P's - patrolling, practising or performing - he was at home
doing some kind of DIY. "Try the garage," Cecil suggested.
"Already have," replied Flo, "no sign of
him."
"Cunning," said Cecil.
"He obviously knew that we'd be coming," said Sylvia
with an air of I-told-you-so. "He's legged it. What we need to do is work
out where, is there anywhere he would go? Friends? Family? If not, we need to
look for clues on where he may have headed."
"If he's running then he's afraid of us," suggested
Derek. "That's good isn't it?"
"Once it gets out that he's the killer, he'll be mobbed.
"I imagine he's scared of the mob rather than just us."
"No, he's afraid of me!" came a voice from behind
them.
"Lot D?" said Dennis with surprise, spying the purple
clad dancer strutting his way toward them. The Dancing Queen was by his side,
stooping slightly from the cajon on her back.
"I prefer the Lord of the Dance, or just the Lord, if you
must."
"What are you doing here?" asked Cecil with more than
a suggestion of confrontation.
"Your Brian is the killer no? I am the new protector in
town no? I am here to deliver justice." The Lord of the Dance and the
morris dancers eyed each other up. Both knew that they were on the same side
yet there was no trust. To the dancers, the Lord was a vigilante who had no
jurisdiction. Such people were a nuisance to them and generally made the
situation worse rather than better, no matter how good their intentions may be.
To the Lord of the Dance, the morris dancers were has-beens with no jurisdiction,
they weren't up to the job. Neither had the high ground legally and they both
knew it. They were all after justice and none of them were officially
sanctioned to do so.
"How did you find out about Brian?" demanded Cecil.
The news had yet to be released, only the dancers and the Morris Ring knew of
his guilt. It was only at that moment that the truth struck Cecil. He looked
the Lord of the Dance in the eye and knew it was true.
"You're his son aren't you?" said Cecil. There was no
mistaking those eyes.
"The Lord of the Dance the son of a killer! How dare
you!" shouted the Lord in disgust.
"No, not him. I've known Brian all my life, I'd have known
if he had an illegitimate son. But you have got morris blood in you."
Cecil paced in front of the Lord, feeling more sure of his thoughts with every
moment. "Your moves are quick, and strong, but are still morris at the
core. You learnt from the best, which means that you must be a Sharp." The
Lord of the Dance flicked his long dark hair and stood, chest out, in front of
Cecil.
"And what if I am?" Cecil Sharp's descendants had been
revered within the morris community. They often sat on the council of the
Morris Ring having attained greatness in the field. Nobody knew however about
the last in the line. He had disappeared as a teenager, rebelled against his
parentage and hadn't been seen since.
"You're Nigel," said Cecil with a smile. There were
gasps from his fellow dancers as realisation set in. "Nigel Sharp, the
prodigal son returns."
"My lineage is of no consequence," barked the Lord.
"I am here to dance. To deliver justice in my way. You will not get in my
way."
"We're on the same side," said Cecil. "I'm sorry
about our previous misunderstandings. No hard feelings. Why don't you join
us?"
"Join you?" scoffed the Lord of the Dance. "I
would never stoop to such depravities. I have evolved. You dance in the old
ways. I am the future, you are the past." The Dancing Queen as usual had
been quiet throughout the exchange but was now pointedly looking at her watch
and making hu-hum noises. "We will find your Brian and bring him down.
Don't get in our way or we will pick up where we left off." He swung
around in a way which suggested that he needed a cape of some kind and stormed
off, followed by his musician.
The dancers were left
standing outside Brian's house, awaiting instruction from Cecil. He quickly put
the interruption behind him and became the decisive leader he knew he could be.
Flo and Sylvia were to find access to the house (Cecil suggested looking under the
plant-pot for the spare key) to see whether they could find anything inside.
Dennis and Derek were to ask the neighbours if they had spoken to him or seen
him go anywhere. Agnes was asked to contact his friends and family to see
whether they knew where he could have gone.
Cecil went into Brian's kitchen, once that Flo had picked the
lock, and made everyone a nice cup of tea. It was going to be a long night.
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