Free Good Girls Don't Die by Isabelle Grey Page A

whacking great skeleton in an unlocked cupboard, but while he was at it, he might as well check out the Ice Maiden, too: shouldn’t take more than a couple of calls to Sussex University and Kent Police to get to know DS Fisher a whole lot better.

NINE
    As Grace watched the young woman cry, the adrenaline that, since today’s dawn start, had so far overcome her combined hangover and lack of sleep began to ebb away. She, too, would have liked to sit with her head in her hands and shut out the world for a moment. Caitlin and Amber were Rachel Moston’s housemates, and, like the murder victim, also third-year law students about to graduate. It was Caitlin who was weeping, tears of helplessness and disbelief that made her look like she must have done as a child. Amber, shocked into silence, had backed off to one side of the room as if needing the wall for support.
    Upstairs in Rachel’s bedroom fellow officers were working their way through her belongings; on the kitchen table her laptop lay already bagged up with an evidence seal.
    ‘Are you really sure it’s her?’ asked Caitlin.
    Grace nodded. She did not give details of Rachel’s parents’ visit to the mortuary, nor the anguished phone call they had subsequently received from Rachel’s boyfriend.
    ‘Were you with her last night?’ Grace asked instead.
    ‘No. We were at a gig on campus,’ explained Caitlin. ‘That’s why we weren’t really sure where she was. I’d texted her, but she didn’t reply.’
    Grace nodded: they’d already read Caitlin’s text on the mobile also found in the jacket that had cushioned Rachel’s head.
    ‘How would she normally have got home after a night out?’
    ‘Train. If it’s late, then a taxi. There’s usually other people heading back to Wivenhoe so we can split the fare.’
    ‘Your landlord is Pawel Zawodny?’ asked Lance. Caitlin nodded. Grace also saw Amber pay attention for the first time.
    They had learned that this three-bedroom house on Alma Street, one of the prettier roads in Wivenhoe, was the most recent of Pawel’s student lets. Grace could see how he had extended the ground floor into a small conservatory to create a single, light living area. The walls were painted a similar blue to Polly and Jessica’s tiny courtyard, with dark-grey built-in shelves. The floor was an inexpensive wood-effect, but nicely done and in a tone that matched the slatted blinds. It was obvious that he took trouble over his projects, that he was, just as Lance had said, organised and precise.
    ‘Do you know his other tenants?’ Lance asked. ‘He has a couple of other student houses in Wivenhoe.’
    Caitlin shook her head.
    ‘Might Rachel have known Polly Sinclair?’
    ‘Don’t think so. I only know the name because people are talking about her.’
    ‘Is she the one who’s gone missing?’ Amber spoke for the first time since introducing herself.
    ‘Yes,’ said Lance. ‘Rents a house in Station Road. Drinks at the Blue Bar.’
    ‘Second-year modern languages,’ added Grace, but both girls shook their heads. Caitlin began to cry again, and Amber came to sit beside her, tucking her knees up under her chin and placing an arm around Caitlin’s shoulders while looking up at the two detectives with big frightened eyes that reminded Grace of the exaggerated animation of Puss in
Shrek
.
    ‘Did Rachel often go to the Blue Bar?’ asked Lance.
    ‘I guess. We all do if we’re in Colchester. It’s a good place to meet up.’
    ‘One of your tutors, Dr Beeston, drinks there, too,’ said Grace. ‘Was he friendly with Rachel?’
    ‘Matt? No!’
    Grace smiled. ‘You seem pretty sure.’
    ‘We try to avoid him, that’s all. He fancies himself too much as a player.’
    ‘Rachel wouldn’t have been meeting him there?’
    ‘No way.’
    ‘Have you ever felt threatened by him?’
    ‘Nah. I mean, he’s a nice enough guy, I suppose.’ Caitlin paused. ‘He’s fine as a teacher.’
    ‘But you wouldn’t