Past Reason Hated

Banks looked at his glass, amazed to find it empty so soon. ‘No thanks.’

‘Oh, come on,’ Faith said, and took it from him. She brought it back only slightly fuller than the last time and sat about six inches closer. Banks held his ground.

‘There’s something missing,’ he said. ‘Some factor, maybe just a little thing, and I’m trying to find out what it is. I get the feeling that people – you especially – are holding something back, hiding something.’

‘Little me? Hiding something? Like what?’ She spread her hands and looked down as if to indicate that all she had was on display. She wasn’t far from the truth.

‘I don’t know. Do you think there might be a chance that Caroline Hartley was having an affair with someone other than the woman she was living with, perhaps someone in the theatre company?’

Faith stared at him, then backed away a few inches, burst out laughing and pointed at her chest. ‘Me? You think I’m a lesbian?’

Given the situation, her physical closeness and the heady aura of sex that seemed to emanate from her, it did seem rather a silly thing to think.

‘Not you specifically,’ Banks said. ‘Anyone.’

When Faith had stopped laughing, she moved closer again and said, ‘Well, I can assure you I’m not.’ She shifted her legs. The material swished as her thighs brushed together. ‘In fact, if you let me, I can even prove to you I’m not.’

Banks held her gaze. ‘It’s quite possible for a person to be bisexual,’ he said. ‘Especially if he or she is over-sexed to start with.’

Faith seemed to recede several feet into the distance, though she hadn’t moved at all. ‘I ought to be insulted,’ she said with a pout, ‘but I’m not. Disappointed in you, yes, but not insulted. Do you really think I’m over-sexed?’

Banks put his thumb and forefinger close together and smiled. ‘Maybe just a little bit.’

All the seductiveness, the heat and smell of sexuality, had gone from her manner, and what sat next to him was a very attractive young woman, perhaps a little shy, a little vulnerable. Perhaps it had all been an act. Could she turn her sexual power on and off at will? Why did he keep forgetting that there were so many actors on the fringes of Caroline Hartley’s death?

‘I didn’t mean it as an insult,’ Banks went on. ‘It just seemed the best way to cut the games and get down to business. I really do need information. That’s why I’m here.’

Faith nodded, then smiled. ‘All right, I’ll play fair. But I’m not just all talk, you know.’ Just for a moment she upped the voltage again and Banks felt the current.

‘Could Caroline have been seeing someone?’ he asked quickly.

‘She could have been, yes. But I can’t help you there. Caroline kept herself to herself. Nobody knew anything about her private life, I’m certain. After a couple of drinks, she’d go off home-’

‘By herself?’

‘Usually. If it was an especially nasty night James would give her a lift. And before you make too much out of that, he would take Teresa too, and drop her off last.’ She paused for effect, then added huskily. ‘At his place, sometimes.’

‘Teresa told me she didn’t care about James’s attraction to Caroline. What would you say about that?’

Faith put a slender finger to her lips, then said. ‘Well, I wouldn’t quite put it that way. I don’t like to tell tales out of school, but…’

‘But what? It could be important.’

‘Teresa’s very emotional.’

‘You mean she fought with Caroline?’

‘Not exactly.’

‘With James Conran?’

Faith swirled her drink and nodded slowly. ‘I heard them talking once or twice,’ she said. ‘Caroline’s name came up.’

‘In what way?’

Faith lowered her voice and leaned closer to Banks. ‘Usually as that “prick-teasing little bitch.” Teresa’s a good friend,’ she added, settling back, ‘but you did say it was important.’

So Teresa Pedmore had more of a grudge against Caroline Hartley than she had cared to admit. She could have been the woman who visited Caroline’s house after Patsy Janowski. On the other hand, so could Faith Green, who was being much more circumspect about her own involvement in the thespian intrigues, if she had any. Both were a little taller than Caroline Hartley. Banks would have to have a word with Teresa later and see what she, in turn, had to say about her friend.

‘You say James seemed attracted enough to Caroline to upset Teresa,’ he said. ‘How strong would you say his interest was?’

‘He flirted with her in the pub. That was all I ever saw.’

‘How did she react?’

‘She gave as good as she got.’

‘Did they sleep together?’

‘Not as far as I know.’

‘Teresa never referred to them doing that?’

‘No, just to the way James fussed about her. It wasn’t Caroline who manoeuvred the seating in the pub. If anyone, Teresa should have blamed James, not Caroline.’

‘People aren’t very logical when it comes to blame,’ Banks said, thinking of what Claude Ivers and Patsy Janowski had said about Caroline and Veronica.

‘Where did you all go after the rehearsal on the day of Caroline’s death?’

‘I came home. Honestly. I was tired. I didn’t even have a date.’

‘Why didn’t you all go for a drink as usual?’

Faith shrugged. ‘No special reason. Sometimes we just didn’t, that’s all. People just wandered off home. There’s nothing more to it than that. It was close to Christmas. There was shopping to do, family to visit.’

Banks didn’t believe her. She fiddled with her pearl necklace as she spoke and looked away from him. She also spoke as if there was nobody listening to her.

‘Did something happen at that rehearsal, Faith?’ he asked. ‘Was there a row between Caroline and Teresa?’

Faith shifted in her seat. She turned her eyes on him again. They gave away nothing. A waft of perfume drifted over.

‘Another drink?’

‘No. Tell me what happened.’

‘Leave me alone. Nothing happened.’

Banks put his glass down on the St Ives coaster and stood up.

Faith scratched the inside of her elbow. ‘Are you going now?’ she asked. All of a sudden she seemed like a frightened girl whose parents were about to turn the lights out.

‘Yes. Thanks very much for the drinks. You’ve been a great help.’

She touched his arm. ‘Nothing happened. Really Believe me. We just finished our rehearsal and we all went home. Don’t you believe me?’

Banks moved towards the door. Faith walked beside him, still holding on. ‘You must catch him soon, you know,’ she said.

‘Him?’

‘Whoever killed Caroline. Was it a woman? I suppose it could have been. But you must.’

‘Don’t worry. We will. With or without your help. Why are you so concerned?’

Faith let go of his arm. ‘The rest of us are in danger, aren’t we? It stands to reason.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Whoever killed Caroline. He might be stalking the cast A serial killer.’

‘A psychopathic killer? It’s possible, but I don’t think so. You’ve been reading too many books, Faith.’

‘So you really don’t think the rest of us are in danger?’

‘No. But you might as well keep your door locked anyway. And always look and see who’s there.’ He paused, half out of the door.

‘What is it?’ Faith asked.

‘Some of you could be in danger,’ he added slowly, ‘if you know more about the crime than you’re telling, and if the killer knows you know, or suspects that you do.’

Faith shook her head. ‘I know nothing more than I told you.’

‘Then you’ve nothing to worry about, have you?’

Banks smiled and left. He wanted to get Teresa’s version of that final night, but she would have to wait. It was going on for ten o’clock, he was tired, and he was going to London early in the morning. If he still needed to talk to her when he got back, he could do it then.

As he walked over the brittle ice listening to the rest of the Milhaud piece, he recalled Faith Green’s expression at the door. She had told him that she knew nothing, but had looked distinctly worried when he had hinted she might be in danger. Of course, knowing her, it could have been just another act, but perhaps, he thought, it wouldn’t be a bad idea to have Richmond and Susan Gay keep an eye on the thespians while he was in London.

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