Page 10 of Nothing Watching

“Sure, yes, we can,” Deena replied in a lilting Irish accent. Eva nodded.

Wyatt perched on a wooden chair nearby, and Juliette began questioning the two roommates.

“Can you tell me about Hannah’s behavior while she was here? Did she seem worried or afraid of anything?” Juliette asked.

Eva shifted in her seat before answering. “No, not really. Look, we didn’t speak that much and we were not close friends. But she seemed happy to be here, enjoying the city and meeting new people. She didn’t seem to have any problems.”

“Did she have plans to move on?”

Deena shook her head. “Not that we knew of. She hadn’t mentioned anything about leaving.”

Juliette made a note of that before continuing. “Did she have any visitors while she was here?”

Both girls shook their heads. “No, not that we saw,” Eva said. “She would go out for drinks with people here, and we often had card games or movie nights that she would join in.”

“Any boyfriends?” Wyatt asked.

“Not that I knew of, I mean, some of the guys would flirt, but we are all travelers. If you get together, you know it will not last, and if you say no, there are usually no issues.” Eva shrugged.

“Why was she walking that way so late? Do you know?” Juliette asked.

“No idea,” Eva said, her eyes wide and innocent. Too wide.

“Are you sure you don’t know?” Juliette pushed. Now Eva was flushing red, and she was clamping her mouth shut and shaking her head firmly. Not good signs.

Needing to use some persuasion, Juliette tried a sneaky angle. “You do know we’ll need to report to Frau Mitter if we think any of you are withholding information, because it might affect people’s safety at the guesthouse. If you tell me, it’ll stay confidential.”

The thought of the strict guesthouse owner throwing them both out was a strong enough persuader. The two women exchanged a glance before Deena replied.

“Hannah was not really supposed to do it, but she was doing part-time leafleting, in an area to the west of here, the business district, where a lot of people walk. She—she was a pretty girl with a nice smile, and it was just handing out leaflets for local businesses, at traffic lights and to people on the street. Not really allowed, because she did not have a work permit, but not so bad. Once she had handed them all out, the lady would pay her twenty euros, I think.”

“And what lady is this?”

“She’s an English woman who lives locally and runs a printing business. Then she gets people to hand out the leaflets for the companies who use her. I don’t know her name, I know they met almost accidentally and then just stayed in touch, and she’d do this about once or twice a week.”

Juliette wasn’t thinking there was any foul play involved. It seemed to her like a business arrangement that had suited both parties and was basically pocket money. But what was important to her was that Hannah, while handing out the leaflets, would have been standing in a high-traffic area with a lot of people coming and going. Someone might have seen her there and followed her back.

That was what she was thinking had happened.

Hannah had been out in public while leafleting, and attracted the wrong person.

“I can’t believe anyone would have killed her,” Eva said sadly. “She was—so streetwise. So tough and full of life. And now, she’s gone.”

Those words struck a chord in Juliette’s mind.

Hannah had struggled. And Fischer had said there had been hairs caught in her watch strap. She wanted to know more about those hairs, and if any DNA evidence, or other evidence, had been found in the postmortem.

They needed to head to the pathologist’s office to continue their hunt for clues.

CHAPTER SIX

The deep bruises around the throat were visible to the naked eye. Looking at them, Juliette felt a chill. This was more than a crime of violence. It was a crime of passion, of deep and terrible anger.

She and Wyatt had been escorted by the German police to the pathologist’s office, in a well-ordered, if slightly grim, industrial area. Now, masked and gowned, they were standing in the cool and sterile environment of the autopsy room, speaking to the chief pathologist, Dr. Schmidt.

“The first body, that of Iris Davies, is already in storage, but the strangulation marks were identical,” he explained. “Apart from the strangulation, there are no other major injuries. Small indications of defense wounds, a broken nail, a bruised finger, but sadly no DNA under the nail.”

Hannah was a beautiful woman. Her blond hair was like white-gold silk, and now she was dead. Why? Juliette agonized, the question all the more poignant by knowing that only she and her team could find the answers.

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