Free Under a Silent Moon: A Novel by Elizabeth Haynes

pertinent points of the investigation, and then DI Hamilton and I will be happy to take your questions. We will also be issuing you with a press pack at the end of the briefing which contains photographs that can be used in your reports, together with a written statement. There are also telephone numbers for the Incident Room, which I would be grateful if you could make public for the benefit of those people who may have information for us so they can contact us directly. Thank you.”
    She moved to the chart stand on one side of the table where she and Andy were sitting and flipped over the top sheet to reveal a photograph of Polly Leuchars, happy, smiling, blond hair blowing away from her tanned face. How fortunate it was for the investigation that the murder of good-looking people always received more press attention than the murder of the unlovely. Lou had worked on the killing of a middle-aged prostitute and drug addict, back in the days when she was a new DC at the Met. They’d held a series of press conferences, and after the first one almost nobody came. None of their readers would be likely to know anything that would help anyway, one arrogant old hack had told her, as though they moved in certain circles and remained untainted by the detritus of life that floated past.
    “We are currently investigating the brutal murder of a young woman,” Lou began, turning to face her audience and standing in front of the table behind which Andy sat. She knew it was much harder to be intimidated by your surroundings when you were standing up with no barrier between you and your audience.
    “Polly Leuchars was twenty-seven years old, and was working as a groom at Hermitage Farm in Morden to earn some money to go traveling. In the early hours of Thursday, the first of November, Polly was violently assaulted in the hallway of her home, Yonder Cottage, which is part of the Hermitage Farm estate on Cemetery Lane. We are anxious to get a clearer picture of the events of Wednesday, thirty-first October, particularly in the evening, and we would like to appeal to anyone who has any information concerning where Polly might have been, and who she may have spoken to, on the day before she died. If anyone saw Polly’s vehicle, which is a blue Nissan Micra, I would ask them please to come forward and speak to a member of the investigation team as soon as possible.”
    There was silence as Lou scanned the journalists, some watching her intently, some busy scribbling notes.
    “I would like to emphasize that we are dealing with the murder of a popular young woman who had her whole life ahead of her. Her family and friends are needlessly dealing with her loss, and our feelings and thoughts are with all of them at this tragic time. If anyone has any information that might help us find out who was responsible for this crime, I would ask them to come forward and contact us as soon as they can.”
    Lou paused. Then, “Thank you for your attention. Are there any questions?” While she waited for them to decide which was their most pressing question, she took her seat next to Andy. They’d agreed to take it in turns answering, and the media officer was in charge now.
    “Yes—lady in the pink top.”
    Hers wasn’t the first hand to go up, but Lou knew that this particular journalist had been promised the first question because of a recent favorable article she’d written regarding the Force’s response to antisocial behavior.
    “Alison Hargreaves, Eden Evening Standard . DCI Smith, can you tell us anything about the death of Mrs. Barbara Fletcher-Norman? Are the two deaths connected?”
    Lou felt her cheeks flush.
    “Thank you,” she said, “we are not connecting the two incidents at this time. Next question.”
    There was a sudden buzz as all the other journalists started wondering who the hell Mrs. Barbara Fletcher-Norman was.
    “Do you have any suspects at this stage?” This was from the local BBC Radio reporter.
    Andy answered.