Page 211 of A Good Girl's Guide to Murder

But she’ll have to believe it soon, along with the rest of Kilton, when Ravi and I find out who really killed both Andie and Sal.

And after my conversation with Becca I think the front runner has changed again. Not only have I unearthed a strong connection between two names on my suspect list (another possible murder team: Daniel da Silva and Jason Bell?) but I’ve confirmed my suspicions about Daniel. He not only had access to Andie’s room after she went missing, but he was probably the first person to search it! He would have had the perfect opportunity to take and hide the burner phone, and remove any trace of himself from Andie’s life.

Web searches bring up nothing useful about Daniel. But I have just seen this on the Thames Valley Police Kilton area page:

Kilton has only five designated police officers and two police community support officers. I like my odds that Daniel will be there. I don’t like my odds that he’ll tell me anything.

Thirty-Two

‘And there are still too many youths loitering on the common in the evenings,’ an old woman croaked, her arm raised beside her head.

‘We spoke about this at a previous meeting, Mrs Faversham,’ a female police officer with ringlet-sprung hair said. ‘They aren’t engaging in any anti-social behaviour. They are just playing football after school.’

Pip was sitting on a bright yellow plastic chair in an audience of just twelve people. The library was dark and stuffy and the air filled her nostrils with that wonderful cosmic smell of old books and the fusty smell of old people.

The meeting was slow and dreary, but Pip was alert and sharp-eyed. Daniel da Silva was one of the three officers taking the meeting. He was taller than she’d expected, standing there in his black uniform. His hair was light brown and wavy, styled back from his forehead. He was clean-shaven, with a narrow up-turned nose and wide rounded lips. Pip tried to not watch him for long stretches of time, in case he noticed.

There was another familiar face here too, sitting just three seats down from Pip. He stood up suddenly, flashing his open palm at the officers.

‘Stanley Forbes,Kilton Mail,’ he said. ‘Several of my readers have complained that people are still driving too fast down the high street. How do you intend to tackle this issue?’

Daniel stepped forward now, nodding for Stanley to retake his seat. ‘Thanks, Stan,’ he said. ‘The street already has several traffic-calming measures. We have discussed performing more speed checks and, if it’s a concern, I am happy to reopen that conversation with my superiors.’

Mrs Faversham had two more complaints to drawl through and then the meeting was finally over.

‘If you have any other policing concerns,’ the third officer said, noticeably avoiding eye contact with old Mrs Faversham, ‘please fill out one of the questionnaires behind you,’ she gestured. ‘And if you’d prefer to talk to any of us in private, we will be sticking around for the next ten minutes.’

Pip held back for a while, not wanting to appear too eager. She waited as Daniel finished talking to one of the library volunteers and then she pushed up from her chair and approached him.

‘Hi,’ she said.

‘Hello,’ he smiled, ‘you seem a few decades too young for a meeting like this.’

She shrugged. ‘I’m interested in law and crime.’

‘Nothing too interesting in Kilton,’ he said, ‘just loitering kids and slightly fast cars.’

Oh, if only.

‘So you’ve never made an arrest over suspicious salmon handling?’ she said, laughing nervously.

Daniel stared blankly at her.

‘Oh, it’s . . . that’s an actual British law.’ She felt her cheeks redden. Why didn’t she just play with her hair or fiddle like normal people do when nervous? ‘The Salmon Act of 1986 made it illegal to . . . uh, never mind.’ She shook her head. ‘I had a couple of questions I wanted to ask you.’

‘Shoot,’ he said, ‘as long as it’s not about salmon.’

‘It’s not.’ She coughed lightly into her fist and looked up. ‘Do you remember reports being made, about five or six years ago, of drug use and drinks being spiked at house parties thrown by Kilton Grammar students?’

He tensed his chin and his mouth sank into a thoughtful frown.

‘No,’ he said, ‘I don’t remember that. Are you wanting to report a crime?’

She shook her head. ‘No. Do you know Max Hastings?’ she said.

Daniel shrugged. ‘I know the Hastings family a bit. They were my very first call-out alone after I finished training.’

‘For what?’

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