Past Reason Hated

THREE

‘Sorry about the mess,’ Veronica Shildon said as she let Banks in. He looked around. There was no mess, really. He sat down. Veronica stood by the kitchen door with her arms folded.

‘The reason I came,’ he said, ‘is to tell you that we’ve tracked down the woman in the picture.’

Veronica shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

‘Yes?’

‘Her name is Ruth Du

‘You have an address?’

‘Yes.’

‘Thank you for telling me, Chief Inspector. I realize it might have been unethical.’

‘Ms Shildon, I never do anything unethical.’ His eyes twinkled when he smiled.

‘I – I didn’t meant…’

‘It’s all right.’

‘Would you like some tea? I was just about to make some.’

‘Yes, please. It’s a bit nippy out there.’

‘If you’d like something stronger…?’

‘No, tea will do fine.’

While Veronica made the tea, Banks looked around the room. It was in a state of flux. In the first place, there was hardly anywhere to sit. The suite was gone, leaving only a couple of hard-backed chairs at the table by the window. Also, the sideboard had been moved, and the Christmas tree, along with all the trimmings, was gone, even though it was only 29 December. Banks wondered if Veronica could have done it all herself.

‘Have you talked to her?’ Veronica asked, placing the tray on the table and sitting opposite him.

‘No, not yet. I’m going down there tomorrow morning. It wouldn’t be wise to phone ahead.’

‘You don’t mean she’s a suspect?’

‘Until I find out otherwise, she is, and I don’t want to give her any reason to run off if she thinks she’s sitting pretty.’

‘It must be an awful job you do,’ Veronica said.

‘Sometimes. But not as awful as the things the people we try to catch do.’

‘Touché.’

‘Anyway, I just thought I’d let you know.’

‘And I’m grateful.’ Veronica put her cup and saucer down. ‘I’d like to see her,’ she said. ‘Ruth Du

Banks scratched the scar by his right eye, then crossed his legs. He knew he should say no. Officially, Veronica Shildon was a major suspect in her lover’s murder. He had told her about Ruth Du

‘I’m going by train,’ he said. ‘I won’t be driving down. I never could stand driving in London.’

‘Are you trying to put me off? I know it’s an unusual request to make Chief Inspector, but I’ve heard about Ruth often enough from Caroline, though never more than her first name and what a good friend she was. Somehow, now that Caroline’s gone, I just feel I’d like to meet her There’s very little else left.’

Banks sipped at his tea and let a minute pass. ‘On two conditions,’ he said finally. ‘First of all, I can’t allow you to be present at the interview, and second, you’ll have to wait until I’ve talked to her before you see her.’

Veronica nodded. ‘That sounds fair.’

‘I haven’t finished yet.’

‘But that was two.’

‘I’ll make it three, then. I reserve the right to stop you seeing her at all if for any reason I feel it necessary.’

‘But why on earth…?’

‘It should be obvious. If Ruth Du

Veronica nodded slowly. ‘I suppose I’ll have to.’

‘And you’ll also have to return with me.’

‘I was thinking of looking up an old friend,’ Veronica said. ‘Perhaps staying down for New Year…’

Banks shook his head. ‘I’m already going out on a limb.’

Veronica stood up. ‘Very well. I understand.’

‘Right,’ he said at the door. ‘Eight twenty from Eastvale, change at Leeds.’

‘I’ll be there,’ she said, and closed the door behind him.

FOUR

Mario’s was a cosy restaurant in a narrow cul-de-sac of gift shops off North Market Street. It had a small bar at one end of the long room, stucco walls and small tables with red and white checked cloths and candles in orange pressed-glass jars. A man with a guitar sat on a stool at the far end quietly crooning Italian love songs.

The place was full when James and Susan got there and they had to sit for ten minutes at the bar. James ordered a half litre of Barolo, which they sipped as they waited.

He looked good, Susan thought. Clearly he had made some sartorial effort, replacing cords and polo-neck with grey slacks, a white shirt and a well-tailored, dark-blue sports jacket. His fair hair, thi

‘You’ll just love the ca

Susan laughed. How long was it since an attractive man had made her laugh? She had no idea. But very quickly she seemed to be getting over the idea of James Conran as drama teacher and moving towards… Well, she didn’t quite know and didn’t really want to contemplate just yet. At least not tonight. James chatted easily with the barman in fluent Italian and Susan sipped her wine, reading the labels of the liqueur bottles behind the bar. Soon, a white-jacketed waiter ushered them with a flourish to a table for two. Luckily, Susan thought, it wasn’t too close to the singer, now lost in the throes of ‘O Sole Mio’.

They examined their menus in silence, and Susan finally decided to take James’s advice on the ca

‘I must say again,’ he said, raising his glass in a toast, ‘that you look gorgeous tonight.’

‘Oh, don’t be stupid.’ Susan felt herself blush. She had done the best she could with her appearance, accenting her rather too thin lips and playing down the extra fat on her cheekbones with powder. She knew that she wasn’t bad looking; her large eyes were a beautiful ultramarine colour and her short, blonde hair, naturally thick and curly, gave her no trouble at all. If she could just lose a couple of inches from her waist and three or four from her hips, she thought, she’d be more inclined to believe compliments and wolf whistles. Still, it was a long time since she’d gone to such lengths for a date. She smiled and clinked glasses with James.

‘All you lack is confidence,’ he said, as if reading her thoughts. ‘You have to believe in yourself more.’

‘I do,’ Susan answered. ‘How do you think I’ve got where I am?’

‘I mean your personality, the image you project. Believe you’re lovely and people will see you that way.’

‘Is that what you do?’

James winced in mock agony. ‘Oh, now you’re being cruel.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘It’s all right. I’ll survive.’ He leaned forward. ‘Tell me, I’ve always wondered, what did you think of me when you were at school? I mean, what did the girls think of me?’

Susan laughed and put her hand to her mouth. ‘They thought you were gay.’

James’s face showed no expression, but a sudden chill seemed to emanate from him.

‘I’m sorry,’ Susan said, feeling flustered. ‘I didn’t mean anything by it. I didn’t think so, if that’s any consolation. And it was just because you were in the arts.’