Peter Robinson: Past Reason Hated

Banks lit a cigarette and sucked the smoke in deeply. Are you sure you want to know?’ he asked.

‘No, I’m not sure. I’m frightened. I’d rather forget everything that happened. But I never got anywhere by denying things, refusing to face the truth.’

‘All right.’ Now he was there, he didn’t know where to start. The name, just the bald name, seemed inadequate but the why was even more meaningless.

Veronica helped him out. ‘Will you tell me who first?’ she asked. ‘Who killed Caroline?’

Banks flicked some ash into the grate. ‘It was James Conran.’

Veronica said nothing at first. Only the nerve twitching at the side of her jaw showed that she reacted in any way. ‘How did you find out?’ she asked finally.

‘I was slow,’ Banks replied. ‘Almost too slow. Given Caroline’s life, her past, I was sure there was a complex reason for her death. There were too many puzzles – Gary Hartley, Ruth Dunne, Colm Grey…’

‘Me.’

Banks shrugged. ‘I didn’t look close enough to home.’

‘Was there a complicated motive?’

Banks shook his head. ‘No, I was wrong. Some crimes are just plain… I was going to say accidents, but that’s not really the case. Stupid, perhaps, certainly pointless and often just sheer bad luck.’

‘Go on.’

‘As far as the evidence was concerned, we knew that Conran was attracted to Caroline, but there’s nothing unusual about that. She was a very beautiful woman. We also found out he tended to prefer her over other actresses in the cast, which gave rise to a certain amount of jealousy. Caroline dealt with normal male attention by doing what she knew best, what she’d learned on the game – teasing, flirting, stringing them along. It was an ideal way for her because it deflected suspicion away from her true sexual inclinations,’ he looked at Veronica, who was staring down into the murky cocoa, ‘and it kept them at a distance. Many flirts are afraid of real contact. It’s just a game.

‘But as I said, I was looking for deep, complex motives – something to do with her family, her time in London, her way of life. As it turns out, her death was to do with all those things, but not directly concerned with any of them.’

‘Another drink?’ Veronica had noticed his glass was empty and went to refill it. Banks didn’t object. Embers shifted with a sigh in the fire place. It was much warmer now the electric fire had heated the room. Banks took his coat off.

‘What happened?’ Veronica asked, handing him the tumbler.

‘On December the twenty-second, after rehearsal, everyone went their separate ways. Caroline came straight home, took a shower and made herself comfortable in the living room with a cup of tea and some chocolate cake. Your husband called with the present, which Caroline opened because he had said it was something special and she wanted to know what could be so special to you. I’m sure she intended to rewrap it before you found out. I’m speculating, of course. No one but Caroline was in the house at this time, so we’ll never know all the details. But I think I’m right. It couldn’t have happened any other way. Anyway, shortly after Claude Ivers left, Patsy Janowski arrived, checking up on him. She thought he was still involved with you.’ Veronica sniffed and shifted position. Banks went on. ‘She spoke to Caroline briefly at the door – very briefly, because it was cold and Caroline was only wearing her bathrobe – then she left. On her way down the street, she saw a woman who appeared to be walking oddly, heading across King Street, but thought nothing of it. By then it was dark and the air was filled with snow. It was difficult to look up and keep your eyes open without getting them full of cold snow.’

‘What about James Conran?’ Veronica asked. ‘How does he fit in?’

‘I was getting to that. It had been a particularly difficult rehearsal. He had insulted Faith Green by telling her that Caroline could play her part better, and Teresa Pedmore was probably still angry at him for being so obvious about his lust for Caroline in public. By this time, he was pretty well besotted with her, and he’s one of those types who’s like a little boy who breaks things when he doesn’t get his own way. Because of the bad atmosphere, everyone went their separate ways, including Caroline. After he locked up, Conran went to the Crooked Billet and drank several double Scotches very quickly. His row with Faith made him want Caroline all the more. After all he thought he was doing for her, he was getting very impatient that she didn’t seem to be keeping up her end of what he thought was the bargain.

‘Then he had an idea. He was always a bit of a theatrical type, the kind who got dressed up and recited “The Boy Stood on the Burning Deck” at parties when he was a kid, so he thought that, as a joke, he’d dress up as a woman and go and see Caroline. Twelfth Night, as you know, is about a woman who passes herself off as a man, and that’s where he got the idea. It would make her laugh, he thought, if he passed himself off as a woman, and when you make women laugh you soften them and break down their reserve. Also, he’d had enough drinks to make it seem a good idea and to make him feel brave enough. He knew where she lived, but he didn’t know that she lived with anyone.

‘He went back to the community centre – only he and Marcia Cunningham from the dramatic society had keys to the back door – chose a dress, a wig, and found some women’s shoes that fit him. But it must have been an uncomfortable walk for him. The shoes were a little too tight and pinched his toes, and it’s very hard to walk in high heels in the snow, I should imagine. Especially if you’re a man. That’s what Patsy Janowski noticed, but she didn’t realize what it meant.

‘He said Caroline seemed to recognize him, laughed and let him in. She had no reason not to. Apparently he’d done things like that in rehearsal – dressed up, played practical jokes, clowned around – so as far as she was concerned it wasn’t out of character for him. She may have been puzzled by his visit, even worried that you would come back and wonder what was going on, but as far as she knew, she had no reason to fear him.’

Veronica grimaced and massaged her right calf. Banks took a sip of fiery Scotch. ‘Are you sure you want me to go on?’ he asked. ‘It isn’t very pleasant.’

‘I didn’t expect it to be,’ Veronica said. ‘I’ve got a touch of cramp, that’s all. It’s not what you’re saying that’s making me grit my teeth. I want to know everything. But I think I’ve changed my mind about that drink.’ She limped to the cocktail cabinet, poured herself a glass of sherry and sat down again carefully. ‘Please go on. I’ll be fine.’

‘Conran was a little drunk and wanting his oats. Caroline must have seemed especially inviting dressed only in her bathrobe. Eventually, it happened. Conran made a pass and Caroline ducked it. According to him, she made some reference to the way he was dressed and told him she preferred real women. She accused him of playing some kind of sick joke. He was stunned. He had no idea. When he started to protest, she laughed at him and told him the clothes suited him, maybe he ought to consider going after some of the men in the cast. Then he hit her. She fell back on the sofa, stunned by the blow, and her robe fell open. He said he couldn’t help himself. He wanted her. And if rape was the only way he could get what he wanted, then so be it. He had to have her right there.’

Veronica was gripping the sherry glass tightly, her face pale. Banks paused and asked if she was all right.

‘Yes,’ she whispered. ‘Go on.’ She closed her eyes.

‘He couldn’t do it,’ Banks said. ‘There she was, a beautiful, naked woman, just what he’d dreamed about ever since he’d met her, and he couldn’t function. He says he doesn’t remember the next part very well. Everything was red inside his eyes, he said. And then it was done. He saw what had happened. He’d picked up the knife from the table and stabbed Caroline. When the rage passed and the realization dawned, he didn’t panic, he started thinking clearly again. He knew he had to find some way of covering his tracks. First he washed the knife and rinsed the blood off his hands. When he went back into the room he was horrified by what he’d done. He said he sat down and just stared at Caroline, crying like a baby. That’s when he saw the record she’d opened. He knew the piece because he’d had a lot to do with church choral music ever since he was young. He knew that the Laudate pueri was played at the burial services of small children. That’s another reason I should have thought of him sooner, but then almost anyone could have known the significance of the music, or someone might simply have thought it sounded right.’