Past Reason Hated

‘What do you mean?’

‘He could have done it, if Patsy Janowski is in it with him or is lying to protect him. He delivered the record, we know that for a fact. As to who put it on the turntable…’

Veronica shook her head slowly. ‘Claude couldn’t murder anyone. Oh, he has his moods and his rages, but he’s not a killer. Anyway, do you really think the music is important?’

‘It’s a clue of some kind, but it didn’t mean what I thought it did. I believe Caroline opened it out of curiosity. She wanted to know what Claude thought was so special to you. Beyond that, your guess is as good as mine. Maybe she would even play a little of it, again to satisfy her curiosity, but I can’t believe she’d leave the arm up so it would repeat forever.’

Veronica smiled. ‘That’s just like Caroline,’ she said quietly. ‘Such curiosity. You know, she always wanted to shake all her Christmas presents. It was well nigh impossible to stop her opening them on Christmas Eve.’

Banks laughed. ‘I know, my daughter’s the same.’

Veronica shook her head. ‘Such a child… in some ways.’

Banks leaned forward. ‘What did you say?’

‘About Caroline. I said she was such a child in so many ways.’

‘Yes,’ Banks whispered. ‘Yes, she was.’ He remembered something Ruth Du

‘Does it mean something?’ Veronica asked.

‘It might do.’ He stood up. ‘If it does, I’ve been a bit slow on the uptake. Look, I’d better go now. Much as I’d like to stay here and keep warm, I’ve got work to do. I’m sorry.’

‘It’s all right. You don’t have to apologize. I don’t expect you to keep me company. That’s not part of your job.’

Banks put the empty teacup on the table. ‘It’s not a task I despise,’ he said. ‘But there are a few points I have to review back at the station.’

‘When you find out,’ Veronica said, twisting the silver ring around her middle finger, ‘will you let me know?’

‘You’d find out soon enough.’

‘No. I don’t want to find out from the papers. I want you to let me know. As soon as you find out. No matter what the time, day or night. Will you do that for me?’

‘Is this some sort of desire for revenge? Do you need an object to hate?’

‘No. You once told me I was far too civilized for such feelings. I just want to understand. I want to know why Caroline had to die, what the killer was feeling.’

‘We might never know that.’

She put her hand on his sleeve. ‘But you will tell me, won’t you, when you know? Promise?’

‘I’ll do my best,’ Banks said.

Veronica sighed. ‘Good.’

‘What about the record?’ Banks said at the door. Technically, it’s yours, you know.’

Veronica leaned against the doorjamb and wrapped her arms around her to keep warm. ‘I can live in this house, she said, ‘especially when I get it redecorated and bring new furniture in. But do you know something? I think that if I ever heard that music again I’d go insane.’

Banks said goodnight and Veronica closed the door. It was a shame, he thought, that such a glorious and transcendent piece of music should be associated with such a bloody deed, but at least he thought he now knew why the record had been left playing, if not who had put it on.

FOUR

Susan systematically picked the strips of glittering silver tinsel from her tiny artificial Christmas tree. Carefully, she replaced each flimsy strand on the card from which it came, to put away for next year. She did the same with the single string of lights and the red and green coloured balls, the only decorations she had bought.

When she had finished with the tree, she stood on a chair and untapped the intricate concertinas of coloured crêpe paper she had draped across the ceiling and folded them together. Apart from the Father Christmas above the mantelpiece, a three-dimensional figure that closed like a book when you folded it in half, that was it.

When she had put all traces of Christmas in the cupboard, Susan stood in the centre of her living room and gazed around. Somehow, even without all the festive decorations she had dashed out and bought at the last moment, the place was begi

James hadn’t seen the inside of her flat yet. She would have to invite him soon if he was going to keep on taking her to di

She poured out her cup of cocoa and sat down to listen to the music, curling her feet under her in the small armchair. If she was honest with herself, she decided, her resistance to James had little to do with the fact that he had been her teacher, and was only partly related to his involvement in the case. As far as Susan was concerned, Veronica Shildon was guilty, and it was simply a matter of proving it, of finding evidence that she had returned earlier than she said and murdered her lover – such a distasteful word, Susan thought, when applied to a relationship like theirs – out of jealousy, self-disgust or some other powerful, negative emotion. Either that or the estranged husband had done it because Caroline had corrupted and stolen his wife. So, although James and the theatre crowd were officially suspects, Susan couldn’t believe that any of them were really guilty. No, it was something else that kept her at arm’s length from James.

She had for some reason stayed away from sexual relationships over the past few years. And, again if she was honest, it wasn’t only because of her career. That was important to her, yes, but many women could manage both a lover and a career. Some of her colleagues, and, stranger still, a couple of the more charming villains she had nicked, had asked her out, but she had always said no. Somehow they had all been too close to home. She didn’t want to be talked about around the station. She had dated occasionally, but had never been able to commit herself to anything. She supposed that, as far as the men were concerned, there always seemed to be a million things she would rather be doing than being with them, and they were right. Because of that, she had spent too many evenings alone in her soulless flat. But also, because of that, she had passed all her examinations and her career was flourishing.

She certainly found James attractive, as well as charming and lively company. He was a great ham, had a fine sense of the dramatic. But there was more to him than that, an intensity and a kind of masculine self-assurance. He would probably make a fine lover. So why was she avoiding the inevitable? Her excuse was the case, but her real reason was fear. Fear of what? she asked herself. He hadn’t even tried to touch her yet, though she was sure she had seen the desire in his eyes. Was she afraid of enjoying herself? Of losing control? Of feeling nothing? She didn’t know, but if she was to change her life in any way at all, she would have to find out. And that meant confronting it. So, when the case was over…

A skin had formed on the top of her cocoa. She had never liked that, ever since childhood. That sweet and sticky skin made her shudder when, inadvertently, she had sipped without looking and it had stuck like a warm spider’s web to her lips. Carefully, using her spoon, she pushed it to the edge of the cup, dredged it out and laid it in the saucer.