Past Reason Hated

spite?’

For the first time, Faith seemed speechless. But it didn’t last long. Finally, red-faced, she stretched out her arm dramatically and pointed at the door.

‘Out!’ she yelled. ‘Out, you wretched, insulting little man! Out!’

‘Calm down, Faith,’ Banks said. ‘I need answers. Is that why?’

Faith let her arm fall slowly and sat in silence for a few moments contemplating the upholstery of the sofa. ‘What if I did call her a slut?’ she said finally. ‘Heat of the moment, that’s all. And I’ll tell you something, the way I felt at the time, if I’d killed anybody it would have been our bloody philandering director. It’s unprofessional, letting your prick rule your judgment like that. It happened with Teresa, it was happening with Caroline…’

‘But it didn’t happen with you?’

‘Huh! Do you think I really cared about that? I’ve no trouble finding a man when I want one. A real man, too, not some artsy-fartsy wimp like James Conran.’

‘But maybe he hurt your pride? Some people don’t handle rejection well. Or perhaps it wasn’t Conran that really bothered you. Was it Caroline herself?’

Faith stared at him, then spoke slowly. ‘Look, you asked me about that the last time you were here. I told you I’m not a lesbian. I told you I could prove it to you. Do you want me to prove it now?’

She sat up, crossed her arms and reached for the bottom of her sweater.

Banks held his hand up. ‘No,’ he said, ‘I’m not asking you to prove it. And quite honestly, it’s not really the kind of thing you can prove, is it?’

Faith let her hands drop but remained sitting cross-legged on the sofa. ‘You mean you think I’m bi?’

Banks shrugged.

‘Well, you can’t prove that either, can you?’

‘We might be able to, if we talk to the right people.’

Faith laughed. ‘My ex-lovers? Well, good luck to you, darling. You’ll need it.’

‘What did you do after the argument?’ Banks asked.

‘Came home, like I said.’ She put her hand to her brow. ‘Quite honestly, I was shagged out, dear.’

Faith seemed to have regained her composure since her outburst, or at least her poise. She pushed her fringe back from her eyes and managed a brief smile as she went on. ‘Look, Chief Inspector, I know you have to catch your criminal and all that, but it’s not me. And I’ve got a lot of work to do before curtain tonight. Besides, I need to be calm, relaxed. You’re making me all flustered. I’ll blow my lines. Be a darling and bugger off. You can come back some other time, if you want.’

Banks smiled. ‘I shouldn’t worry about being nervous. I’ve heard a bit of anxiety adds an edge to a performance.

Faith narrowed her eyes at him for a moment, as if wondering whether she was being had. ‘Well…’ she went on, ‘if that’s all…?’

‘Far from it. You argued with James Conran in the auditorium, am I right?’

‘Yes.’

‘What happened next?’

‘I left, of course. I don’t put up with that kind of treatment – not from anyone.’

‘And you went straight home?’

‘I did.’

‘Was anyone else in the centre at the time?’

‘Well, obviously Teresa bloody Pedmore was, but I didn’t see her.’

‘Anyone else?’

Faith shook her head.

‘Are you sure?’

‘I told you, I didn’t see anyone. But then I didn’t see them all leave, either. There are plenty of cubby-holes behind the stage, as you know quite well. The whole bloody cast could have been hiding there and listening, for all I know.’

‘But as far as you know, the only person there was James Conran, and you left him in the auditorium.’

Faith nodded, a puzzled expression on her face. ‘And Teresa, I suppose, if she saw me leave.’

‘Yes,’ Banks said. ‘And Teresa. What were you wearing that evening?’

‘To rehearsal?’

‘Yes.’

Faith shrugged. ‘Same as I usually wear, I suppose, when I come from school.’

‘Which is?’

‘They’re very conservative, you know. Blouse, skirt and cardigan is required uniform.’

‘How long was the skirt?’

She arched her eyebrows. ‘Why, Chief Inspector, I didn’t know you cared.’ She stood up with exaggerated slowness and put the edge of her hand just below her knee. ‘About that long,’ she said, then she shifted her weight to her left leg, dropping her right hip in a halfcomic, half-seductive pose. ‘As I said, they’re very conservative.’

‘What about your overcoat?’

‘What is this?’

‘Can you tell me?’

‘I can do better if it’ll get you out of here quicker.’ She walked to the hall cupboard and pulled out a long, heavily lined garbardine. ‘It’s not quite warm enough for this weather we’ve been having lately,’ she said, ‘but it’ll do until someone buys me a mink.’

‘What about footwear?’

She raised one eyebrow. ‘You are getting intimate, aren’t you? Whatever will it be next, I wonder?’

‘Footwear?’

‘Boots, of course. What do you think I’d be wearing in that weather? Bloody high heels?’ She laughed. ‘Tell me, have you a shoe fetish or something?’

Banks smiled and got to his feet. ‘No. Sorry to disappoint you. Thank you very much for your time. I’ll see myself out.’

But Faith followed him to the door and leaned against the frame, arms loosely folded. ‘You know, Chief Inspector,’ she said, ‘I am very disappointed in you. I might be persuaded to change my mind, but it would take a lot of doing. I’ve never been so insulted and abused by a man as I’ve been by you. But the funny thing is, I still like you.’ She took him by the elbow and steered him out the open door. ‘And now you really must go.’

Banks headed down the corridor and turned when he heard Faith calling after him.

‘Chief Inspector! Will you be there tonight? Will you be watching the play?’

‘I’ll be there,’ Banks said. ‘I wouldn’t miss it for anything.’ And he went on his way.

14

ONE

The community hall was surprisingly full for the first night of an amateur production, Banks thought. There they all sat, chattering and coughing nervously before the play started: a party of fourth-formers from Eastvale Comprehensive, present under sufferance; friends and relatives of the cast; a group of pensioners; members of the local literary institute. The old boiler groaned away in the cellar, but it didn’t seem to be doing much good. There was a chill in the hall and most people kept their scarves on and their coats draped over their shoulders.

Banks sat beside Sandra. Their seats, compliments of James Conran, were front and centre, about ten rows back. Further ahead, Banks could make out Susan’s blonde curls. The director himself sat beside her, occasionally leaning over to whisper in her ear. He could also see Marcia talking animatedly to a grey-haired man beside her.

It was almost seven thirty. Banks eyed the moth-eaten curtain for signs of movement. Much as he enjoyed Shakespeare, he hoped the performance would not last too long. He remembered an actor telling him once in London that he didn’t like doing Hamlet because the pubs had always closed by the time it was over. Banks didn’t think Twelfth Night was that long, but a bad performance could make it seem so.

Finally, the lights went off abruptly, there being no dimmer switch in the Eastvale Community Centre, and the curtains began to jerk open. Rusted rings creaked on the rail. The audience clapped, then made themselves as comfortable as they could in the moulded-plastic chairs.

If music be the food of love, play on,

Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting,

The appetite may sicken, and so die…

So spoke the Duke, and the play was underway. The set was simple, Banks noticed. A few well-placed columns, drapes and portraits gave the impression of a palace. Banks recognized the music, played on a lute, as a Dowland melody, fitting enough for the period.

Though he was no Shakespeare expert, Banks had seen two other performances of Twelfth Night, one at school and one in Stratford. He remembered the general plot but not the fine details. This time, he noticed, too many cast members shouted or rushed their lines and mauled the poetry of Shakespeare’s language in the process. On the other hand, the groupings and movements on stage constantly held the attention. The way people faced one another or