Free No Lovelier Death by Graham Hurley

Round Southsea Pier couldn’t be more than a couple of hundred metres. Nothing surely to a swimmer like Matt?
    ‘It was December. Christmas Eve.’
    ‘Ah …’
    Sam, for the first time, smiled. The smile widened into a grin. Memories of the young Matt Berriman had brought her to life.
    ‘So how long did this relationship last?’
    ‘Until six weeks ago.’
    ‘Really?’ Faraday leaned forward. There’d been no mention of this from the Thames Valley D/I. ‘So what happened?’
    ‘She met Gareth.’
    ‘Gareth Hughes?’
    ‘Yes. I’ve known Gareth for a while. We’re in the sixth form together at PGS.’ She hesitated. ‘Or we were …’
    Faraday scribbled himself a note. Portsmouth Grammar School, like the Girls’ High, was fee-paying.
    ‘Tell me about Gareth.’
    ‘He was different to Matt, nowhere near as sporty. He wasn’t spastic, nothing like that, and he wasn’t a boff either, but he was much more …’ she frowned, hunting for the word ‘… sensible than Matt. There’d been some problems between her and Matt. Rach was trying to nail down all the stuff she had to do for the Oxford entrance exam and Matt definitely wasn’t helping.’
    ‘Like how?’
    ‘Like he’d buy tickets for a big festival, the whole weekend, expensive tickets, tickets he could no way afford, and when Rach said she couldn’t spare the time he’d get really … you know … difficult. He really knew how to make her feel guilty too, and in the end she’d always give in and then regret it.’
    ‘Why?’
    ‘Because he was just getting wilder and wilder. He was into all kinds of stuff. He just had to try everything, which obviously made things hard for Rach.’
    ‘And the swimming? The training?’
    ‘That was the other thing. Matt had pretty much given up. Rach was the same, though for different reasons.’
    ‘And did she get into Oxford?’
    ‘Yeah. In fact she got a scholarship. That’s why her dad gave her a car.’ She began to sniff and then fumbled for a Kleenex. ‘Shit, this is really hard.’
    Faraday gave her a moment or two to blow her nose. Then he wanted to know about the party. Whose idea had it been?
    ‘Rach’s. She just wanted a bunch of friends around, people who maybe didn’t know Gareth that well.’
    ‘So how did she sort out the invites?’ It was Suttle this time.
    ‘She’s got a page on Facebook. You can have a best mates list. You can tell everyone whether you’re in a relationship or not. You can do all kinds of stuff. She just sent word round all her mates.’
    ‘Including Matt?’
    ‘Must have. Matt had been on her Facebook page, obviously. Rach was incredibly bright, like I’ve said, but I think she just forgot to take him off the list. Either that, or she couldn’t bear to. She could be really silly sometimes about that kind of stuff, really soft in the head.’
    ‘So that was how he got to find out about the party? Is that what you’re saying?’
    ‘Yes. Must have been.’
    ‘And how was the invite worded? Do you know?’
    ‘I can’t remember. You could check it out. It was something about Rach’s new squeeze. She made a joke of it really. It was just supposed to be really casual, a chance for people to come and crash for the night, you know. Big old house, loads of space, DVDs, music, stuff to drink. It was no big deal, honestly …’ She tailed off.
    ‘Do you think Matt might have spread the word? Because of Gareth?’
    ‘Out of jealousy, you mean? I’ve no idea. He could have done, I suppose, but it would surprise me because he’s not that organised really. With Matt it was always last-minute stuff … impulse … you know what I mean?’
    ‘But did he miss her? To your knowledge.’
    For the first time there was hesitation in her face.
    ‘Yes,’ she said finally. ‘He did.’
    ‘He wanted to get back with her?’
    ‘Yes, definitely.’
    ‘She told you that?’
    ‘I knew.’
    ‘How?’ Faraday this time.
    The wariness again. A longer silence.
    ‘Because