‘But that means,’ Marcia said slowly, ‘that the killer was someone who knew about our costumes, someone who had access to them. It means-’

‘Yes,’ said Banks. ‘And if she was wearing shoes, not boots, what does that suggest?’

‘We don’t have any boots,’ Marcia said. ‘Not that I know of. Shoes, yes, but not boots.’

‘The killer couldn’t find any suitable boots to complete the disguise, so had to make do with women’s shoes.’

‘I still don’t understand,’ Marcia said.

‘It was the play gave me the idea, that and what Patsy said. All that stuff about a woman walking funny, and a play about confused identity. Couldn’t it have been a man dressed as a woman? Would any of the shoes have been big enough?’

‘Well… yes, of course,’ Marcia said. ‘We have all kinds of sizes. But why? Why would anybody dress up and do that?’

‘We don’t know,’ Banks said. ‘A sick joke? Maybe someone knew Caroline was a lesbian, someone who wanted her badly. Do you have a plastic bag?’

‘I think so… somewhere.’ Marcia gestured vaguely, her brows knit together.

‘There’s one in the larder, by the newspapers, love,’ said Albert, who had remained silent until now. ‘I’ll go and get it.’

Albert brought the bag and Banks put the dress in it.

‘What about the break-in?’ Marcia asked.

‘It could have been staged later, when the killer discovered what he’d done.’ Banks looked at his watch. ‘It’s after eleven thirty,’ he said. ‘Let’s try the Crooked Billet and see if they’re still there.’

‘Who?’ asked Marcia.

‘Susan and Conran,’ Banks said. ‘I assume they are together.’ He turned to Marcia. ‘When did you tell Susan about this dress?’

‘The other day. She couldn’t make anything of it.’

‘That’s hardly surprising. Does James Conran know?’

‘I haven’t told him,’ Marcia said.

‘Has Susan?’

‘I don’t know. I mean, she’s seeing him. She might have mentioned it. Why?’

Banks looked at Sandra. ‘I don’t want to alarm anyone,’ he said, ‘but if I’m right, we’d better try to find Susan right away. Excuse us, Marcia, Albert.’ And he took Sandra by the arm and led her to the door.

‘But why?’ Sandra asked.

‘Because I think James Conran’s the killer,’ Banks said on their way down the path. ‘I think he wanted Caroline Hartley so badly he went over to the house to see her. I don’t know why he dressed up, or what happened in there, but he’s the only one in the society apart from Marcia who had access to the prop room.’

They got in the car and Banks cursed the ignition until it started on his fourth attempt. ‘Don’t you see?’ he said as he skidded off. ‘According to Faith and Teresa, Conran was the last one to leave the centre. And even if he did go to the pub, he had a key. He could have easily gone back there and changed. Why do you think he was paying so much attention to Susan? He wanted to know how the investigation was going, how close we were.’

‘My God,’ said Sandra. ‘Poor Susan.’

FOUR

James blocked Susan’s way. ‘She asked for it, you know,’ he said. ‘She was nothing but a prick-teaser, then she…’

‘Then she what?’ Susan felt real fear now, like ice in her spine. Her mind was racing in search of a way out. If only she had told Banks about the dress, then maybe he would have been able to put two and two together before she had. If only she could keep Conran talking. If only…

‘You know what,’ he said. ‘It turned out she didn’t like men, she was just playing, leading me on, just like you were, playing me for a fool.’

‘That’s not true.’

‘Stop lying. It’s too late now. What are you going to do?’ James asked.

‘What do you think?’

‘Turn me in? Can’t you let it go?’

‘Don’t be an idiot.’

‘What is it with you, Susan? Just what makes you tick? Professional all the way?’

‘Something like that,’ Susan muttered, ‘but it doesn’t really matter any more, does it?’

‘You could forget this ever happened,’ James said, moving forward and reaching for her hand. She noticed a sheen of sweat on his forehead and upper lip.

She snatched her hand away. ‘No, I couldn’t. Don’t be a bloody fool, James. Let me go. Don’t make things worse.’ He was still rational, she thought; James was no madman, just troubled. She could talk sense to him, and he might listen. The main problem was that he was highly strung and, at the moment, in a state of near panic. She would have to be very careful how she handled him.

‘Where do you want to go?’ he asked.

‘To the phone,’ she said calmly.

Conran stood aside and let her pass. But no sooner had she picked up the receiver than he grabbed it from her and pulled her back into the front room.

‘No!’ he said. ‘I can’t let you. I’m not going to jail. Not just because of that perverted slut. Don’t you see? It wasn’t my fault.’

‘Don’t be a fool, James. What’s the alternative?’

Conran licked his lips and looked around the room like a caged animal. ‘I could get out of here. Go away. You’d never have to see me again. Just don’t try to stop me.’

‘I have to. You know that.’

‘I mean it. I don’t want to hurt you. Look, we could go together. I’ve got some money saved up. Wherever you want. We could go somewhere warm.’

‘James,’ Susan said softly, ‘you’ve got a problem. You don’t necessarily have to go to jail. Maybe you can get help. A doctor-’

‘What do you mean, problems? I don’t have any problems.’ Conran pointed at his chest. ‘Me? You tell me I’ve got problems? She was the one with the problem. Not me. I’m not queer. I’m not a homosexual. I’m normal.’

His face was flushed and sweaty now and he was breathing fast. Susan wasn’t sure if she could talk him down and persuade him to give himself up. Not if he didn’t want to.

‘Nobody says you’re not normal,’ she said cautiously. ‘But you’re obviously upset. You need help. Let me help you, James.’

‘I’m not going with you,’ he said. ‘And if you phone, I won’t be here when your friends arrive.’

‘You’re making it worse,’ Susan said. ‘At least if you come in with me, it’ll look good. It’s no use running. We’ll get you in the end. You know we will.’

‘I don’t care. I’m not going to jail. You don’t understand. I couldn’t live in jail. The things they do in there… I’ve heard about them.’ He shuddered.

‘I told you, James. It might not mean prison. Perhaps you can get help in a hospital.’

‘No! There’s nothing wrong with me. I’m perfectly normal. I’ll not have doctors poking about in my head.’

Susan got up and walked towards the front door. She held her breath as she turned her back on him. Before she even got to the hallway, she felt his hands around her neck. They were strong and she couldn’t pry them apart. Because he was standing behind her, all she could do was wriggle, and it didn’t help. She flailed back with her hands but met only empty air. She tried to swing her hips back into his groin, but she couldn’t reach him. Her throat hurt and she couldn’t breathe. She lashed back with one foot, felt it connect and heard him gasp. But his grip never slackened. She felt all the life and sensation going out of her body, like water down the drain. Her knees buckled and he let her sink forward to the floor, his hands still locked tight around her throat. The blackness had seeped in everywhere now. She thought she could hear someone hammering on the door, then she heard nothing at all.