Past Reason Hated (38 page)

‘Did you argue with James Conran over Caroline?’

Her eyes flashed briefly, then she drew on her cigarette, tilted her head back and blew out a long stream of smoke through narrow nostrils. ‘What has Faith been saying about me?’ she asked. ‘I’ve got a right to know.’

‘Look,’ Banks said, ‘I haven’t told you who passed on the information. Nor am I going to. It’s not important. What counts is that you answer my questions. And if you won’t do it here, you can come down to the police station and answer them.’

‘You can’t make me do that.’ Teresa leaned forward and flicked off a column of ash. ‘Surely?’

‘What did you do after the rehearsal on December the twenty-second?’

‘What? I . . . I came home.’

‘Straight home?’

‘No. I did some Christmas shopping first. Look—’

‘What time did you get home?’

‘What is this? Are you trying to imply I might have had something to do with Caroline Hartley’s death?’

‘I’m not implying anything, I’m asking questions. Banks pulled out one of his own Silk Cuts and lit up. ‘What time did you get home?’

‘I don’t know. How can I remember? It was ages ago.’

‘Did you go out again?’

‘No. I stayed at home and worked on my role.’

‘You didn’t have a date with Mr Conran?’

‘No. We . . . I . . .’

‘Were you still seeing him at that time?’

‘Of course I was.’

‘As a lover?’

‘That’s none of your damn business.’ She mashed her cigarette out and clasped her hands in her lap.

‘When did you and Mr Conran stop being lovers?’

‘I’m not answering that.’

‘But you did stop.’

There was a pause, then she hissed, ‘Yes.’

‘Before Caroline Hartley’s murder?’

‘Yes.’

‘And did Caroline have anything to do with this parting?’

‘No. It was completely amicable on both sides. Things just didn’t work out that way. We’d never been very deeply involved, anyway, if you know what I mean.’

‘A casual affair?’

‘You could call it that, though neither of us is married.’

‘And Caroline Hartley came between you?’

Teresa scratched her palm and looked down.

‘Am I right?’ Banks persisted.

‘Look,’ Teresa answered, ‘what if I say you are? It doesn’t mean anything, does it? It doesn’t mean I’d kill her. I’m not a fanatically jealous woman, but every woman has her pride. Anyway, it wasn’t Caroline I blamed.’

‘Was Conran having an affair with Caroline?’

She shook her head. ‘I don’t think so. We didn’t know she was gay, but even so there was something about her, something different. Elusive. She could keep the men at bay while seeming to draw them to her. It’s difficult to explain. No, I don’t think he even saw her outside rehearsals and the pub.’

That seemed to square with what Veronica Shildon had said.

‘But he was attracted to her?’

‘A bit smitten, you might say,’ said Teresa. ‘That was what annoyed me, him chatting her up in public like that when everyone could see, the way he looked at her. That kind of thing. But then James is like that. He goes after anything in a skirt.’

‘Am I to take it you don’t care for him any longer?’

‘Not as a man, no. As a professional, I respect him a great deal.’

‘That’s a very neat distinction.’

‘Surely you sometimes have to work with people you respect but don’t like?’

‘Did you argue over his attentions to Caroline?’

‘I told him to stop drooling over her in public. I found it embarrassing. But that was only a part of it. What I said before was true. It wasn’t much of a relationship to begin with. It had run its course.’

‘Do you think you’ll get this part in
Weymouth Sands?

‘James still appreciates me as an actress,’ she said, ‘which is more than he does that gossipy bitch who told you all about my personal life.’

‘Who’s that?’

‘Faith bloody Green, obviously. There’s no need to be coy. You know damn well it was her who told you. And I can guess why.’

‘Why?’

‘Why do you think? Because she couldn’t get him herself.’

‘Did she try?’

Teresa gave Banks a disdainful look. ‘You’ve met Faith, Chief Inspector. What do you think the answer is?’

‘But Conran wasn’t interested?’

‘It appears not.’

‘Any reason?’

‘Not that I know of. Not his type, perhaps. Too much woman, too aggressive . . . I don’t know. I’m just guessing.’

‘What did he think of her? Did they have any arguments?’

‘If she’s been trying to imply I had a good reason for killing Caroline Hartley, it’s probably because she had an even better one.’

Banks sat up. ‘Why? Over her interest in Conran?’

Teresa sniffed. ‘No. It wasn’t that. I think she soon realized that her tastes run to rougher trade than James. It was just that she had to try, like she does with every man. No, it was something else that happened.’

‘Tell me.’

Teresa leaned forward and lowered her voice dramatically. ‘It was after rehearsal that night, the night Caroline was killed.’

‘What happened?’

‘Most people left early because it was close to Christmas, but James wanted to spend half an hour or so with Faith and myself, just getting the blocking right. Our parts are large and very important, you see. Anyway, James wanted Faith to stay behind, so I left first. But I forgot my scarf, and it was cold outside, so I came back. I don’t think they heard me. I was in the props room, you know, where we leave our coats and bags, and I heard voices out in the auditorium. I’m not a naturally nosy person, but I wondered what was going on. Anyway, to cut a long story short, I walked a little closer and listened. And guess what?’

‘What?’

Teresa smiled. ‘They were arguing. I bet she didn’t tell you about
that,
did she?’

‘What were they arguing about?’

‘Caroline Hartley. As far as I could gather, James was telling Faith that if she didn’t do a better job of learning her lines, he’d give her part to Caroline.’

‘What was Faith’s reaction?’

‘She walked out in a huff. I had to be quick to hide behind a door without being seen.’

‘Can you remember their exact words?’

‘I can remember what Faith said to James before she left. She said, “You’d do anything to get into that little slut’s pants, wouldn’t you?” I wish I’d been there to see his face. Of course, he can’t have meant it about giving her part away. James would know quite well there wasn’t enough time for Caroline to take over Faith’s role. He was just trying to get her to try a bit harder.’

‘What happened after that?’

‘I don’t know. As soon as Faith had left, I got out of there pretty quickly. I didn’t want to be caught snooping.’

‘Where was Conran?’

‘Still in the auditorium, as far as I know.’

‘Could he have left by the front door?’

Teresa shook her head. ‘No, we always use the back during rehearsals. The front’s kept locked after the gallery closes, unless there’s some sort of an event on.’

‘Who has the key to the back door?’

‘Only Marcia and James from the dramatic society, as far as I know. Usually one or the other would be last to leave. James, more often than not, as Marcia was always first to arrive, and she tended to disappear to the pub early if she knew she wasn’t needed.’

‘What time did this argument occur?’

‘Six. Maybe a little after.’

‘What were you wearing?’

Teresa frowned and sat back in her chair. ‘What do you mean?’

‘What clothes were you wearing?’

‘Me? Jeans, a leather coat, my wool scarf. Same as usual for rehearsals.’

‘What about footwear?’

‘I had my boots on. It
is
winter, after all. I don’t see what—’

‘And Faith?’

‘I can’t remember. I doubt I paid much attention.’

‘What did she usually wear? Jeans? Skirt and blouse? Dress?’

‘She usually wore a skirt and blouse. She is a teacher, believe it or not. She came straight from school. But I don’t know for sure what she was wearing that day.’

‘What about her overcoat?’

‘What she always wore, I suppose.’

‘Which is?’

‘A long coat, like a light raincoat with epaulettes, but lined.’

‘Belted?’

‘Yes.’

‘And her footwear?’

‘How should I know?’

‘Was she wearing boots or shoes?’

‘Boots, I should think. Because of the weather.’

‘But you can’t be sure?’

‘No. I can’t say I pay Faith’s feet much attention.’

‘Why didn’t you tell me all this earlier?’ Banks asked.

Teresa sighed and shifted in her chair. ‘I don’t know. It didn’t seem all that important. And I didn’t want any trouble, anything spoiling the play. It was bad enough with Caroline getting murdered. When I heard about her being gay, I was sure her death must have had something to do with her private life, that it didn’t involve any of us. I know I sound hard, but this play is important to me, believe it or not. If I do well, the TV people will hear about me . . .’

Banks stood up. ‘I see.’

‘And as for Faith,’ Teresa went on. ‘I know I sounded bitchy right now, but it was only because I was annoyed at what she’d said to you. She’d no right to go talking about my personal life. But she’s not a killer. Not Faith. And certainly not over a petty incident like that.’

Banks buttoned his overcoat and headed for the door. ‘Thanks very much,’ he said. ‘You’ve been a great help. And he left her reaching for another cigarette from the engraved silver box.

Damn them all! he cursed as he walked out into the cold night. Of course Faith could have killed Caroline Perhaps not over a petty matter, such as the argument Teresa had described, but there could have been another reason. A woman like Caroline Hartley, whether intentionally or not, causes violent emotion in all who come into contact with her. Even Veronica Shildon had admitted to Banks that she’d never understood lust until she met Caroline.

Faith could have simmered for a while after the row – it would certainly have been a blow to her pride – and then, if she had something else against Caroline, too, she could have gone to visit her and remonstrate. Faith certainly worked hard at her Mae West role, but what if it was just an act? What if her true inclination lay elsewhere, or she leaned both ways?

It didn’t seem likely that James Conran would kill the goose he hoped would lay a golden egg. He had high hopes for Caroline as an actress and he was sexually attracted to her as a woman. He didn’t know she was gay. Given his masculine pride and confidence, he probably assumed that she would come around eventually; it was just a matter of time and persistence. Still, there might have been something else in the relationship that Banks didn’t know about.

Caroline had seemed to bring out the worst in both Faith and Teresa. How could he be sure either of them was telling him the truth? Instead of feeling that he had cleverly played one off against the other, he was beginning to feel that he might be the one who had been played. Cursing actors, he pulled up in front of his house feeling nothing but frustration.

The bell was ringing in the distance. All around lay dark jungle: snakes slithered along branches, phosphorescent insects hummed in the air and squat, furry creatures lurked in the lush foliage. But the bell was ringing in the dark and she had to find her way through the jungle to discover why. There were probably booby traps, too – holes lightly covered with grass matting that would give way under her weight to a thirty-foot drop onto sharpened bamboo shoots. And . . .

She was at least half awake now. The jungle had gone, a figment of the night. The ringing was coming from her telephone, in the living room. Hardly a dangerous journey, after all, though one she was loath to make, being so comfortably snuggled up under the warm blankets.

She looked at the bedside clock. Two twenty-three in the morning. Bloody hell. And she hadn’t got to bed until midnight. Slowly, without turning on the light, she made her way through to the living-room by touch. She fumbled the receiver and put it to her ear.

‘Susan?’

‘Mmm.’

‘Sergeant Rowe here. Sorry to disturb you, lass, but it’s important. At least it might be.’

‘What’s happened?’

‘We’ve caught the vandals.’

‘How? No, wait. I’m coming in. Give me fifteen minutes.’

‘Right you are, lass. They’ll still be here.’

Susan replaced the receiver and shook her head to clear the cobwebs. Luckily, she hadn’t drunk too much at dinner She put on the living-room light, squinting in the brightness, then went into the bathroom and splashed cold water on her face. There was no time for make-up and grooming, just a quick wash, a brush through the hair and out into the cold quiet night. With luck, there would be fresh coffee at the station.

Holding her coat around her she shivered as she got into the car. It started on the third try. Driving slowly because of the ice, she took nearly ten minutes to get to the car park behind the station. She nipped in through the back door and walked to the front desk.

‘They’re upstairs,’ Sergeant Rowe said.

‘Any background information?’

‘Aye. Tolliver and Wilson caught them trying to jemmy their way into the Darby and Joan Club on Heughton Drive. Our lads had enough sense to let them jemmy open the lock and step over the threshold before pouncing. A slight altercation ensue—’ Sergeant Rowe stopped and smiled at his use of jargon – ‘in which said officers managed to apprehend the suspects. In other words, they put up a bit of a fight but came off worst.’

‘Do we know who they are?’

‘Rob Chalmers and Billy Morley. Both spent time in remand homes.’

‘How old are they?’

‘We’re in luck. One’s eighteen, the other seventeen.’

Susan smiled. ‘Not a case for the juvenile court, then. Have they been cautioned?’

‘Charged and cautioned. We’ve jot the jemmy and the gloves they were wearing bagged and ready for testing.’

‘And?’

‘They’re not saying owt. Been watching American cop shows like the rest. Refuse to talk till they’ve seen their lawyer. Lawyers! I ask you.’