She would keep quiet all right, and tell no one about being in the car that night. But only because she just knew Jasper Vander must have done something bad. Really bad. There had been something very wrong with Terry Parker just before he crashed that car; she was sure. He might have had a few drinks, but she didn’t believe he’d been so drunk that he couldn’t drive properly.

She thought about the dead man, and felt sorry for him, but not enough to do anything about it.

Juliet and Jasper had hated him. And now Terry Parker was dead.

And she definitely didn’t want to do anything that would make the twins angry with her.

She might just end up the same way.

Chapter 15

The next day, Trudy rose in darkness and made her way downstairs. Her father, a bus driver, was unusually still abed, but only because his bosses were having trouble getting the bus routes cleared. Every fresh snowfall or freezing overnight spell turned roads that had once been passable into an ice rink. And nobody wanted to be driving a double-decker on an ice rink. Or riding on one, presumably.

She boiled an egg and ate some toast, careful not to wake her parents, then let herself out the house. The same Land Rover that had been doing the rounds, shuttling police staff from their homes in the city to their stations, was waiting, and she greeted the driver – a rather glum-faced PC from Headington – with a weary smile.

They discussed the snow that seemed to have brought the whole country to a standstill, and the PC’s little girl, who had been delighted with her Christmas present of coloured plasticine, but not so enamoured of a doll.

Once at the station, she was delighted to find that DI Jennings wasn’t in yet. Since he’d left no word ordering her otherwise, she decided that that meant that the Terry Parker case was still her top priority, and immediately set off walking to the coroner’s house. And if that made her difficult to contact any time soon, that was really a shame, wasn’t it?

Once again, it was Vincent who answered her knock at the door, and for a moment she actually wondered if he was going to let her in. He hesitated so very visibly in the doorway, looking her up and down, that she began to feel distinctly uncomfortable. Eventually he moved to one side.

‘Dad, it’s your policewoman again,’ he called over his shoulder as Trudy edged around him.

He was dressed in warm woollen black trousers with a black shirt, and a knitted cable-stitch pullover in stone-coloured wool over the top. His light brown, almost fair hair shone with golden highlights under the hall light, and she could still smell his aftershave. Obviously, he had not long risen.