Contents ( 76)
- THE WINTER KILLER
- Alex Pine
- Copyright
- Dedication
- PROLOGUE
- CHAPTER ONE
- CHAPTER TWO
- CHAPTER THREE
- CHAPTER FOUR
- CHAPTER FIVE
- CHAPTER SIX
- CHAPTER SEVEN
- CHAPTER EIGHT
- CHAPTER NINE
- CHAPTER TEN
- CHAPTER ELEVEN
- CHAPTER TWELVE
- CHAPTER THIRTEEN
- CHAPTER FOURTEEN
- CHAPTER FIFTEEN
- CHAPTER SIXTEEN
- CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
- CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
- CHAPTER NINETEEN
- CHAPTER TWENTY
- CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
- CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
- CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
- CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
- CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
- CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
- CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
- CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
- CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
- CHAPTER THIRTY
- CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
- CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
- CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
- CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
- CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
- CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
- CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
- CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
- CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
- CHAPTER FORTY
- CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
- CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
- CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
- CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
- CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
- CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
- CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
- CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
- CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
- CHAPTER FIFTY
- CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
- CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
- CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
- CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
- CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
- CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
- CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
- CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
- CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE
- CHAPTER SIXTY
- CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE
- CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO
- CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE
- CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR
- CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE
- EPILOGUE
- ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
- Keep Reading …
- About the Author
- By the same author:
- About the Publisher
‘Had you met Mark Slade before yesterday?’
Another nod. ‘I was introduced to him early last year at a party at his house, which Libby invited me to, and we’ve met at several events held in Greg’s hotels since. But I don’t like the guy. He’s arrogant and thinks he’s God’s gift to women.’
‘Has he tried it on with you before?’
‘Several times, and I’ve always made it clear to him that I’m not interested.’
‘So, it didn’t come as a great surprise when he approached you in the garden yesterday?’
‘It did because I didn’t hear him walk up behind me. When he grabbed me by the shoulders and kissed me on the cheek, it was a big shock. I instinctively pushed him away, but he reacted badly.’
‘Had he been drinking?’
‘Probably. Most of us had already had at least a couple of glasses of wine or champagne by then. But I don’t think he was drunk.’
‘Tell me exactly what happened,’ James said.
‘Well, like I told the other officer, he called me an ugly slag and threatened to slap me if I didn’t “fuck off”. I saw him lose his temper once before at a birthday bash in a restaurant,’ she said. ‘He got really angry and swore at a waitress because she spilled some wine over his suit. Libby was appalled and embarrassed, but Greg defended him and told her the waitress should have been more careful. In that sense, the pair of them are very much alike. They both think they’re better than the rest of us because they have money.’
‘You’ve never warmed to Greg Murphy then?’ James said.
She hesitated before answering. ‘He’s not my cup of tea, but don’t get me wrong – he’s never been anything but polite and respectful towards me. I just don’t get what Libby sees in him …’
‘Does she know how you feel?’
‘It’s … not my place. She loves the guy and if I ever told her what I think of him I fear it would damage our friendship.’
‘How well do you know Ethan Prescott?’ Abbott asked from where she was standing by the door.
‘I regard him as a friend even though I’ve hardly seen him since he and Libby broke up,’ she replied. ‘He was always a gentleman and it was a shame they didn’t stay together.’ Then she frowned, adding, ‘Why are you asking me about Ethan? Surely he’s not a suspect.’
‘Everyone is a suspect at this early stage, Miss Travers,’ James said. ‘We know that Mr Prescott had relationships with both Elliott sisters and it seems he was one of the last people to have seen Rachel before she went down to the lake. It follows, therefore, that he’s one of the individuals we would like to eliminate from our inquiry as soon as we can.’
‘Well, then it might help you to know that I sat at the same table as Ethan and his mum during the dinner. He was his usual quiet and unassuming self and he certainly didn’t seem anxious or flustered. And as I recall, when he left the table to go to the loo or the bar, he was only ever gone a matter of minutes.’