Past Reason Hated

‘In the arts?’

‘Yes, you know how people in the performance arts always seem to be thought of as gay. If it’ll make you feel any better, they thought Mr Curlew was that way, too.’

James stared at her, then burst into laughter. ‘Peter Curlew? The music teacher?’

Susan nodded.

‘Well, that’s a good one. I do feel better now. Curly was a happily married man with four kids. Devoted family man.’

Susan laughed with him. ‘That just shows you how wrong we were, I suppose. I liked the way he used to conduct to himself whenever he played a record for us. He really got quite worked up, in a world of his own.’

‘Of course, you lot were all snickering at him behind your hands, weren’t you?’

‘Yes. Yes, I’m afraid we were.’ Susan felt strangely ashamed to admit it now, though she hadn’t thought of Mr Curlew for years.

‘He was a very talented pianist, you know. He could have gone a long way, but those years of dreary teaching broke his spirit.’

Susan felt embarrassed. ‘How are you getting on without Caroline?’ she asked, to change the subject.

James paused for a few seconds, as if deep in thought, before answering. ‘Fine, I suppose. It wasn’t a difficult part, it was just that, well, Caroline was special, that’s all. Are you any closer?’

Susan shook her head. Not that she would have said even if they were closer to finding Caroline’s killer. She frowned. ‘Do you think anyone in the production could have been involved in her death?’

He cupped his chin in his hand and thought for a moment. ‘No,’ he said finally. ‘No, I can’t see it. Nobody knew her that well.’

‘Her killer didn’t need to know her well. She let him or her in, but he or she could have been merely an acquaintance, someone come to talk to her about something.’

‘I still can’t see it.’

‘There must have been friction with the other women, the leads.’

‘Why?’

‘Competition.’

‘Over what?’

‘Anything. Men. Lines. Parts.’

‘There wasn’t. I’m not saying we were a totally happy family, we had our ups and downs, our off days, but you’re grasping at straws. Remember, it’s the amateur dramatic society. People join for pleasure, not profit. I’d like to think, though, that we’re far from amateur in quality.’

Susan smiled. ‘I’m sure you are. Tell me, what was Caroline Hartley really like?’

‘I’m sorry, Susan, it’s still very upsetting for me, such a loss. I just don’t want to – ah, look, here’s our food.’ He rubbed his hands together. ‘Delightful. And another half litre of your best Barolo, please, Enzo.’

‘Do you think we should?’ Susan asked. ‘I’ve still got half a glass left. I’m not certain I can drink any more.’

‘Well if you can’t, I can. I know I should be drinking white with the linguine, but what the hell, I prefer Barolo. Worry not, not a drop will be wasted. What did you do for Christmas?’

‘I – I…’

‘Well, what? Did you visit your parents?’ He gathered a forkful of food and lifted it to his mouth, his eyes probing her face for an answer all the time.

Susan looked down at her plate. ‘I… not really, no, I didn’t. I was busy with the case.’

‘You don’t get on with them, do you?’ he said, still looking directly at her, with just a glint of satisfaction in his eyes. She found his gaze disconcerting and looked down at her plate again to cut off a bit of ca

‘I don’t suppose I do,’ she admitted when she’d finished chewing. She shrugged. ‘It’s nothing serious. Just that holidays at home can be awfully depressing.’

‘I suppose so,’ James said. ‘I’m an orphan myself and I always find Christmas terribly gloomy. It brings back memories of those awful orphanage di

‘Look,’ Susan said, reaching for her glass, ‘when I want a lecture on a daughter’s responsibility, I’ll ask for one.’

James stood up. ‘I’m sorry, really I am.’ He patted her arm. ‘Excuse me for a moment.’

Susan held her anger in check and tossed back the last of her wine. The second half litre arrived. She refilled her glass and took a long swig. To hell with caution; she could get as pissed as the next person if she wanted to. Why couldn’t she talk about her parents without getting so damned emotional? she asked herself. She picked away at her ca

‘I’m the one that should apologise,’ she said. ‘I didn’t mean to blow up like that. It’s just that it’s my problem, all right?’

‘Fine,’ James said. ‘Fine. So what did you do?’

She sighed. ‘I stayed at home. I had quite a nice day actually. I’d dashed out and bought a small tree and a few decorations the night before, so the place looked quite seasonal. I watched the Queen’s message and a variety show and read a book on homicide investigation.’

James laughed, a forkful of pasta halfway to his mouth. ‘You read a textbook on homicide on Christmas Day?’

Susan blushed. At that moment the manager walked by. He nodded at James as he passed.

‘I don’t believe it,’ James said. ‘You sitting there by the Christmas tree listening to carols, reading about dead bodies and poisons and ballistics.’

‘Well it’s true,’ Susan said, managing a smile. ‘Anyway, if my job dis-’

But she had no time to finish. Before she could even get the word out, a man appeared beside her and began singing into her ear. She didn’t know the song, but she could make out words like bella and amore. She wished she could shrink to nothing and disappear down a crack in the floor. James sat opposite, hands folded on his lap, watching with cool amusement in his eyes. When the singer had gone and Susan had grudgingly thanked him, she turned to James with fury in her eyes.

‘You set that up, didn’t you, when you went to the gents’? You talked to the manager. Go on, admit it.’

‘Very well.’ James turned his hands palms up. ‘Mea culpa. I just thought you might enjoy it, that’s all.’

‘I’ve never been so embarrassed in my life. I’ve a good mind-’ Susan dropped her napkin on the table and pushed back her chair, but James leaned forward and put his hand gently on her arm. She could see the mild amusement in his eyes turn to concern.

‘Don’t go, Susan. I just meant I thought it might cheer you up, after a Christmas spent alone. Honestly, I didn’t mean to embarrass you. I never thought you wouldn’t like it. How could I know?’

Looking at his eyes again, she could see he was sincere. Not so much that, but it hadn’t even occurred to him that the singer might embarrass her. She eased the chair towards the table again and relaxed.

‘All right,’ she said, forcing a smile. ‘I’ll let you off just this once. But don’t you ever-’

‘I won’t,’ James said. ‘I promise. Scout’s honour. Cross my heart and hope to die. Come on, eat your ca