‘Why did she give it up?’
‘Too busy, she said. Too big a course load. But she told us she still practised the violin when she had a few spare moments. Kept her hand in, like.’
‘Was she a party girl? Nights on the town, that sort of thing?’
Brenda managed a weak smile. ‘Like I said, Adrienne was a normal teenager. A bit shy, but she liked being with her mates. I’m sure they all liked to get dressed up and go out for drinks and dances. I know they went to Leeds clubbing from time to time. But she wasn’t a binge drinker or anything, and I have a really hard time believing she took drugs. She was a hard worker, and she loved her studies.’ Brenda Munro paused. ‘What happened to her?’ she asked. ‘Nobody ever did tell us what happened. Why she died. The newspaper said that it was an overdose of drugs. I just can’t believe it.’
Under his breath, Banks cursed the local newspaper for running the story half-cocked, and Adrian Moss, the police media liaison officer, for letting them get away with it. The papers were already headlining the story, ‘The Girl in the Car’.
‘I’m afraid it looks very much as if she died of an overdose of sleeping tablets,’ Banks said, sparing her the gruesome details of the asphyxiation. ‘I’m sorry if anyone gave you the impression it was a drug-related death. I mean, I know that sleeping tablets are drugs, but Adrienne wasn’t involved in any illicit drug activity as far as we know.’
Brenda put her hand to her mouth. ‘Sleeping tablets! But where would she get something like that? Why on earth would she want them? What happened?’
‘That’s something we were wondering, too. Do you know if she ever had a prescription for anything like that, had any problems sleeping?’
‘Never. Not that I knew of. Even though she’d moved away, she was still on Dr Farrow’s list. He’s our local GP. You can ask him, if you like, but I’m sure she wasn’t taking anything like that. Where could she have got them from?’
‘That’s something we’d very much like to know, Mrs Munro,’ said Winsome.
‘Sleeping tablets,’ Brenda Munro repeated quietly, as if to herself. ‘That means she took them herself, doesn’t it? That she committed suicide?’
‘We don’t know what happened,’ said Banks. ‘Just that the doctor found that she had taken enough to be unable to wake up.’
‘Suicide. Our Adrienne. No.’
‘Had Adrienne been depressed or anything lately?’ Banks pressed on. ‘Any weight loss, eating problems, anything like that?’
‘No,’ said Brenda. ‘She wasn’t anorexic or bulimic, if that’s what you mean. She never had any eating problems in her life. And she wasn’t depressed. That’s why what you’re suggesting is such a shock.’
‘Were there any traumatic events in her life that might have weighed on her mind?’
‘None that I can think of,’ said Mrs Munro. ‘Not as far as we know.’
‘Would you have known?’
‘I think so,’ said Brenda.
‘Sometimes people can hide these things very well.’
‘Oh, I know that. But no. Our Adrienne was never the life and soul of the party. If people talked to her she’d chat back happy as anything, but she wasn’t good at making approaches. She could be withdrawn occasionally, too. And she did get stressed out sometimes. But I think I’d have known if something was really bothering her, yes. I like to think she would have told me.’
‘Did she ever talk to you about any problems she might have had?’
‘No. I mean, nothing serious. She was a bit strapped for cash in her first year, and we tried to help her as best we could, but it’s hard. And uni’s so expensive these days. You know what young girls are like, with their clothes, make-up, music and what have you.’
Banks smiled. He remembered Tracy when she was that age. Clothes mad, he used to call her. But university life was a lot less expensive then. He also remembered Adrienne’s wardrobe, the mix of casual student wear, and the more formal, expensive outfits. ‘Did Adrienne take out student loans?’
‘Yes. They all have to, don’t they? It seems a terrible thing to me, starting out your working life so deep in debt, but I suppose most people do, one way or another, with mortgages, hire purchase and the like. And all these money marts you see on the high streets these days. Jim and I have never been able to afford to buy our own home. The first year was very difficult for us all, but Adrienne did really well, and she got a scholarship this year. It didn’t cover everything, of course, but it’s made her life a lot easier. And not only hers, but ours, too. Not that we minded helping her, you understand, but you can only stretch what you have so far.’
‘Which scholarship was this?’
‘I don’t know what it was called. Just something you get if you do well.’
‘She won it, like a prize?’
Brenda frowned. ‘I think so. You’d have to ask the people at the university. We don’t know the details. All we know is that it was a godsend.’
‘How much was it?’
‘I don’t know that, either.’
‘When was the last time you saw Adrienne?’
‘When she went back to Eastvale to start the second year. She’d got a bedsit and was very excited for us to see it, so Jim drove us all down and we made a day of it. We went to see the castle, had a nice pub lunch in the market square.’
‘And how was she? Was there anything on her mind at the start of this academic year? Are you sure you didn’t notice any subtle changes in her behaviour or mood?’
‘No, nothing. She was fine. Same as she’d been over the summer holidays. Like I say, she was excited about her bedsit. She’d been in halls her first year and didn’t really like it. She was supposed to be coming home for Christmas.’ Brenda reached for a tissue and wiped her eyes. ‘Sorry.’
‘Did you talk to her recently?’
‘Only on the phone.’
‘Did she phone this week?’
‘Not since the weekend. Saturday morning was the last time we heard from her.’
‘What did you talk about?’
‘Not much. You know. The sort of things you do talk about. College, Mari and baby Nadine, her work, that sort of thing.’
‘How did she sound?’
‘Fine. Maybe a bit distracted.’
‘Distracted?’
‘Yes. You know, as if she had something on her mind.’
‘Did she give you any idea what it might be?’
‘I just thought it might be her studies.’
‘How was she doing at college?’ Winsome asked.
‘Oh, Adrienne always played herself down rather than up,’ Brenda answered. ‘She was never one to blow her own trumpet. She’d tell us she thought she was doing all right, and then when she came out with a star or distinction or whatever, she’d be surprised. Obviously, there must have been something bothering her, but whatever it was, she didn’t tell us.’
‘Children don’t always confide in their parents,’ said Banks. ‘I know I didn’t always, and I doubt you did, either.’
‘No,’ said Brenda, clutching her tissue ‘Her friends from college might know more. She spent more time with them than she did with us.’
‘What about boyfriends?’
‘No,’ said Brenda. ‘She had someone in her first year. Nice lad. She brought him up for tea once or twice.’
‘What happened?’
‘I don’t think anything much happened. They saw each over the summer a few times then they just sort of drifted apart, like you do. Adrienne told me she wanted to concentrate on her studies this year. She didn’t have time for boyfriends.’