The Girl In The Ice (Detective Erika Foster, #1)(29)

The Humpty-Dumpty image came back to Erika again. Giles, small and podgy, sitting alone on a wall, his legs not quite reaching the ground.

‘Did you ever meet a girl called Barbora Kardosova? She was a friend of Andrea’s.’ Erika slid a picture of Barbora across the table.

Giles leaned in to examine the picture. ‘No. Although Andrea did mention Barbora. It seemed she dropped Andrea as a friend, most cruelly. It happened a little while before I met her.’

‘How well did you know Andrea’s friends?’

‘She didn’t have many female friends. She’d try and get close to other girls and they became jealous of her. She’s – she was – so beautiful.’

‘Did you and Andrea have an active sex life?’ asked Peterson.

‘What? Yes. We’d just got engaged . . .’

‘Did you have sexual intercourse with Andrea the day she went missing?’

‘What has this got to do with—?’ Giles started.

‘Please can you answer the question,’ said Erika.

‘Um, I think we might have, in the afternoon? Look, I don’t know what this has got to do with her going missing. Asking me about our sex life! It’s none of your bloody business!’ Giles was now red in the face.

‘Did you partake in anal as well as vaginal sex?’ asked Peterson.

Giles stood up so quickly that his coffee spilled over and his chair fell back. ‘That’s it! Get out now! Do you hear me? This is an informal chat, yes? I don’t have to talk to you. It’s voluntary.’

‘Of course it is,’ said Erika. ‘But would you please answer the question? Andrea suffered a prolonged and brutal attack before her death. We are asking these questions for a reason.’

‘What? If we had – if we took part in an unnatural act? No. NO! I wouldn’t marry a girl who . . .’ Giles tugged at the neck of his t-shirt, unable to voice the words. ‘I’m sorry, but I need you to leave. If you want to ask me any more questions I want a lawyer present. This is most distressing and unsavoury.’

The spilt coffee had reached the edge of the glass table. There was a spattering sound as it began to drip over onto the carpet.

‘Was she raped? Was she hurt badly?’ he asked, quietly now, dissolving into tears. He leaned against the table and sobbed into the sleeve of his T-shirt.

‘We don’t believe Andrea was sexually assaulted, but this was a sustained and brutal attack,’ said Erika, softly.

‘Oh, my God,’ Giles said, taking a deep breath and scrubbing again at his eyes. ‘I just can’t think – I can’t imagine what she went through.’

Erika gave him a moment before she continued. ‘Could you tell me, Giles, did Andrea have more than one phone?’

Giles looked up, confused. ‘No. No, she had a Swarovski iPhone. Sir Simon’s secretary sorts out the bill. The same with Linda and David.’

Erika looked at Moss and Peterson, and they got up.

‘I think we’ll end it there, Mr Osborne, thank you. I’m sorry about the line of questioning, but your answers to these difficult questions will really help our investigation.’ Erika touched his sleeve. ‘We’ll see ourselves out,’ she added.

They passed Michelle coming into the glass conference room, carrying a large handful of tissues. She gave them a disapproving look.



‘What do you think?’ asked Erika, when they emerged out onto the street.

‘I’m gonna say it. Cos I know we were all thinking it. What the hell was she doing with him? Talk about out of his league!’ said Peterson.

‘And I don’t think he knew her at all,’ said Moss.

‘Or, she only let him know what she wanted him to know,’ added Peterson.





16





By lunchtime, the official news of Andrea’s death was playing across the media. As Erika, Moss and Peterson approached the Douglas-Brown residence, the bank of photographers had grown on the green outside, churning up the melting snow. This time they didn’t have to wait on the doorstep and were shown straight through to a large drawing room with a double-aspect view of the tree out front and a large garden behind. Two large pale sofas and several armchairs surrounded a long, low coffee table. An open fireplace was decorated in white marble, and in the corner sat a baby grand piano covered in an assortment of framed photographs.

‘Hello, officers,’ said Simon Douglas-Brown, rising from one of the sofas to shake their hands. Diana Douglas-Brown was sitting beside him, and didn’t get up. Her eyes were red and swollen, and her face bare of make-up. David and Linda sat at opposite sides of their parents. Simon, Diana and David were still dressed in black, but Linda had changed into a tartan skirt and a baggy white woollen jumper, on the front of which embroidered kittens chased balls of wool. Erika recognised the jumper from the picture on Facebook. Andrea had worn it with Barbora.

‘Thank you for seeing us,’ said Erika. ‘Before we begin, I would just like to apologise to you if my manner yesterday was rude. It wasn’t intentional, and I apologise unreservedly if I caused you any offence.’

Simon looked surprised. ‘Yes, of course, it’s forgotten. And thank you.’

‘Yes, thank you,’ echoed Diana, croakily.

‘We’d just like to find out a little more about Andrea’s life,’ said Erika, taking a seat on the sofa opposite the family. Peterson and Moss sat either side of her. ‘May we ask you a few questions?’