Past Reason Hated Read Online Free PDF

and I think we ought to check it out. It’s also strange that someone should put it on the turntable and deliberately leave it to repeat ad infinitum We can be reasonably certain that Caroline wouldn’t have played it, so who did, and why? We might even be dealing with a psycho. The music could be his calling card.’
    ‘All right,’ Gristhorpe said after a short silence. ‘Susan, why don’t you get down to Pristine Records and see if they know anything about it.’
    Susan made a note in her book and nodded.
    ‘Alan, you and Detective Sergeant Richmond here can see what you can get out of Veronica Shildon.’ He paused. ‘What do you make of their relationship?’
    Banks scratched the little scar by the side of his right eye. ‘They were living together. And sleeping together, as Ear as I could tell. Nobody’s spelled it out yet, but I’d say it’s pretty obvious. Christine Cooper implied much the same.’
    ‘Could that give us an angle?’ Gristhorpe suggested. ‘I don’t know much about lesbian relationships, but anything off the beaten track could be worth looking into.’
    ‘A jealous lover, something like that?’ Banks said.
    Gristhorpe shrugged. ‘You tell me. I just think it’s worth a bit of scrutiny.’
    The meeting broke up and they went their separate ways, but not before Sergeant Rowe came up to them in the corridor with a form in his hand.
    ‘There’s been a break-in at the community centre,’ he said, waving the sheet. ‘Any takers?’
    ‘Not another!’ Banks groaned. It was the third in two months. Vandalism was becoming as much of a problem in Eastvale as it seemed to be everywhere else in the country.
    ‘Aye,’ said Rowe. ‘Dustbin men noticed the back door broken open when they picked up the rubbish half an hour ago. I’ve already notified the people involved with that amateur dramatic society. They’re the only ones using the place at the moment – except for your wife, sir.’
    Rowe was referring to Sandra’s new part-time job managing Eastvale’s new gallery, where she arranged exhibitions of local art, sculpture and photography. The Eastvale Arts Committee had applied as usual for its grant, fully expecting significant cuts, if not an outright refusal. But that year, whether due to some bureaucratic blunder or a generous fiscal whim, they had been given twice what they had asked for and found themselves looking for ways to spend the money before someone asked for it back. The cheque didn’t bounce; months passed and they received no letter beginning, ‘Due to a clerical oversight, we are afraid . . .’ So the large upstairs room in the community centre was set aside and redecorated for gallery space.
    ‘Any damage upstairs?’ Banks asked.
    ‘We don’t know yet, sir.’
    ‘Where’s the caretaker?’
    ‘On holiday, sir. Gone to the in-laws in Oldham for Christmas.’
    ‘All right, we’ll take care of it. Susan, drop by there before you go to the record shop and see what’s going on. It shouldn’t take too long.’
    Susan Gay nodded and set off.
    Banks and Richmond turned down by the side of the police station towards King Street. The snow had stopped early in the morning, leaving a covering about six inches thick, but the sky was still overcast, heavy with more. The air was chill and damp. On the main streets cars and pedestrians had already churned the snow into brownish-grey slush, but in those narrow, winding alleys between Market Street and King Street it remained almost untouched except for the odd set of footprints and the patches that shopkeepers had shovelled away from the pavement in front of their doors.
    This was the real tourist Eastvale. Here, the antique dealers hung up their signs and antiquarian booksellers advertised their wares alongside numismatists and bespoke tailors. These weren’t like the cheap souvenir shops on York Road; they were specialty shops with creaking floors and thick, mullioned windows, where unctuous, immaculately dressed