Shetland 05: Dead Water (35 page)

‘As I see it, Jerry Markham wrote longer pieces.’ Perez moved the pieces of paper round the table. ‘This one is about life in a children’s home – he did it after a child-abuse case. This is an investigation into river pollution. So you can see how a Power of Water story would appeal to him, especially as there’s such interest in renewable energy. But why did he keep it secret? Why not at least pitch it to his editor to get a free trip north? I don’t understand that.’

Willow picked up the pollution piece. It seemed well written and she read it all, just to find out how the case ended.

‘Then there’s this,’ Perez said. ‘Why would Maria keep this?’ He slid a small cutting across the table to Willow.

It was obvious from the style and content that this wasn’t from the broadsheet for which Jerry Markham had worked. It was from the personal column of a local paper.

‘It doesn’t say,’ Perez said, ‘but it’s from the
Shetland Times
. The announcement of Evie Watt and John Henderson’s engagement.’

Willow read it. It was very formal and old-fashioned. ‘Francis and Jessica Watt are delighted to announce the engagement of their daughter Evelyn Jean to Mr John William Henderson of Hvidahus, North Mainland.’ She looked at the date. ‘This only went into the paper three months ago,’ she said. ‘I don’t know much about these things, but isn’t that a very short engagement? What was the rush?’

Perez didn’t answer her question. ‘Why would Maria go to the trouble of cutting this out of the
Shetland Times
? Why did it matter so much to her?’

‘Perhaps it didn’t,’ Willow said. ‘Perhaps she thought Jerry would be interested because of the Evie Watt connection. She cut it out so that she’d remember to tell him.’

He looked up, transfixed. ‘Of course! Of course that was how it happened.’ He got to his feet. ‘I’m off to Aith,’ he said. He was already struggling into his jacket, feeling in his pocket for his car keys.

‘You’re going to wait for the Fiscal?’

‘Not just that. There’s something I need to check.’

And before she could ask him what he meant, he’d already left the room.

Chapter Forty-Three

It was late afternoon in Aith, but still wet and grey, so it seemed much later, almost night. The houses had lights inside and on his way he’d glimpsed domestic scenes: children sitting at kitchen tables to do homework, a young man preparing an evening meal, an elderly woman knitting. But there were still no lights in the Old Schoolhouse, and when he drove down to the marina, Rhona Laing’s boat was still absent from its mooring.

He was surprised when Andy Belshaw answered the door at the smart Scandinavian house on the hill and wondered why the man wasn’t at work again today. It wasn’t time for him to be home yet. The question was answered when Belshaw spoke. His voice was strained and scratchy, and when he waved Perez inside he said, ‘Sorry. Throat infection. Must have caught it from my daughter. Welcome to the house of the plague.’

In the kitchen there was washing drying on a line hanging from the ceiling and Jen Belshaw was cooking, so condensation was running down the windows and there was no view outside. Perez smelled frying onions and realized that he hadn’t eaten since breakfast. From a distant room came the beeps of a computer game and voices. In one corner of the kitchen a hand-knitted jersey was stretched on a wooden frame. Arms wide, it looked like a headless child.

‘Inspector.’ Jen turned from the stove. ‘How can I help you now?’ Polite enough, but he could tell she wasn’t happy to see him.

‘It’s about John Henderson.’ Perez took a seat at the table. ‘It’s time now for you to tell me the truth. For both of you to tell me the truth.’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ Jen added strips of lamb’s liver to the pan. She’d dusted them first with flour, and her fingers were coated with blood and flour. Red and white, turning into a pink paste where they mixed. She rinsed her hands under the tap and turned down the heat.

‘No?’ Perez turned to her husband. ‘But you knew, didn’t you? You were Henderson’s best friend.’

Belshaw shot a look to his wife, but she still had her back turned to him.

‘Rhona Laing’s missing,’ Perez said. ‘She went off either last night or today. Would you know anything about that? About why she might have left Aith in a hurry?’

‘No!’ It came out as a high-pitched squeak. Belshaw seemed flushed with fever and Perez saw that he really was too ill to have been at work. The inspector leaned forward across the table. ‘I’m trying to prevent another murder here. You have to tell me everything you know. Both of you.’

‘You can’t blame John.’ The woman moved away from the stove, drying her hands on a tea towel. ‘He loved Agnes’s very bones, but she was so ill. He knew she was dying and there was nothing he could do to give her peace. Imagine the stress he was under.’

For a moment Perez thought he had the whole thing wrong and that he was about to hear quite a different story from the one he’d conjured in his head. A story of assisted suicide perhaps, of Agnes helped to her rest. But Jen continued immediately. ‘You can’t blame him for taking his comfort where he could find it.’

‘He had a lover?’ Perez looked at them both for confirmation. ‘While his wife was still alive?’ He wondered what it might be like if the woman you loved died slowly and you had to watch. It had been bad enough on the hill on Fair Isle with Fran in his arms, and that had only been for minutes. A slash of a knife. A blade glinting in moonlight. Then it was all over. He didn’t think he’d have had the strength to keep going for years, watching his lover grow weaker every day. At least he supposed he could do it – the practical stuff, the daily routine, pretending to be cheerful. But not on his own. He’d need an escape at the end of the day, someone warm and tender and soft. Someone to make him laugh occasionally.

‘We don’t know that he had an affair,’ Belshaw said. ‘We never knew for certain. And it wasn’t something you’d ask someone like John Henderson. He was such a private man.’

‘But there were rumours?’

‘Oh!’ Jen said dismissively. ‘A place like this there are always rumours. Most of them mean nothing.’

‘But you guessed, didn’t you? Or you found out?’

The three of them sat, looking at each other. Perez’s phone rang. He switched it off without looking at it. It would be Willow Reeves, on the warpath again, wondering what he was up to and why he hadn’t asked permission to leave the police station without telling her where he was going, and demanding an explanation.

‘Henderson’s dead!’ Perez said. ‘You can’t hurt him now.’

‘You’d ruin his reputation.’ Despite his sore throat, Belshaw was almost shouting. ‘Bad enough that his body was all dressed up by the side of the road with that stupid mask on his head. I’ll not have folk sitting in bars and laughing about what he got up to when his wife was ill. He would have hated that.’

‘You cared about him,’ Perez said.

‘I told you, he was the nearest thing to a brother I’ll ever have.’

I used to think that about Duncan Hunter, and he let me down.

‘You should tell the inspector.’ It was as if Jen had come to a sudden decision. ‘He’ll not make it public if he can help it.’ She looked at Perez, a challenge. ‘Will you, Jimmy? But this is horrible. Knowing there’s a killer out there, having to keep the bairns indoors, and looking over my shoulder when I walk up from work on my own. That’s a sort of cancer too.’

If he’d been feeling well, Belshaw might have continued to fight, but he was weak and feverish and he gave up immediately, collapsed in on himself, so that he looked smaller. He told his story in strange barks and whispers, and the voice itself increased the tension in the room, like fingernails on a blackboard. Jen fetched him a glass of water before he began.

‘I don’t know when it started,’ he said. ‘I don’t know how long it went on. I think it stopped soon after Agnes died. Maybe John felt guilty, or maybe the woman finished it. If all she wanted was a bit of fun, the fact that he was single again could have frightened her off.’ He sipped the water. ‘We had football practice on Friday nights, just like now. We’d train the boys for an hour and then go for a beer, usually to the Mid-Brae Inn. It wasn’t so much for the drink as the chance to wind down. The start of the weekend for me, and a break for John. It sounds daft, as if I was some kind of kid, but I looked forward to those Fridays. I loved the company, the chat.’

He paused. In the background the computer game was reaching a climax.

‘Then he stopped coming. Not to the football training, but to the pub. He said he didn’t like Agnes to be left on her own for so long. I was disappointed, but I understood.’ He looked up at Perez. ‘Then I called in to see Agnes. It was summertime and one of our neighbours had given us loads of raspberries. I thought she’d like them. John was at work. She was upstairs in that room John had made for her. Some days, if he knew he’d not be away too long, he’d help her up there in the morning. She loved the colour of it and the view from the window. I just let myself into the house. It was never locked. She was in fine form that day. It was almost the last time I saw her. We shared the raspberries and she teased me about John. “What are you doing to my man?” she said. “Are you turning him into a drinker? It was past midnight when he came in last Friday.” And when I apologized – because what else could I do? – she patted my hand and said that she was only joking, and she was delighted we were friends and that John had one night out to relax.’

Belshaw had a fit of coughing then and wiped his mouth with a handkerchief.

‘So you were suspicious?’ Perez said.

‘Curious,’ Belshaw said. He paused. ‘And a bit jealous, if I’m honest. I know it’s stupid, but I didn’t like the idea of John having other close friends. Even then it didn’t occur to me that he might have a woman. I thought he was meeting up with mates from work and was too tactful to tell me that he preferred to be with them on his one night out.’

Perez looked towards the window. He wanted to reach out and wipe off the condensation so that he could see if Rhona’s boat was back in the marina, but now this was more important and he turned his attention to the room.

‘What did you do?’

‘One Friday night I followed him.’ Now Belshaw seemed embarrassed. ‘It wasn’t planned, but I’d decided to come home early, not to bother with the beer at all if I was going to be on my own. Usually I’d stay behind to clear up in the sports centre and John would be long gone by the time I left, but that night I was out early and he was just leaving the car park.’

‘And where did he go?’ Perez’s voice was flat. He didn’t want to give too much importance to the question, in case Belshaw reconsidered his decision to tell the story. And besides, he knew already what was coming.

‘John came here,’ Belshaw said. ‘To Aith. He drove his car down to the school, so it couldn’t be seen from the main road. He sat for a moment and then he walked back the way he’d come.’

‘To the Fiscal’s house.’ It wasn’t a question.

‘Yes, to the Fiscal’s house.’ Belshaw paused for a moment before continuing. ‘I thought they were having a meeting. Business. Something to do with that water-power scheme they’ve been rattling on about for years. They were still planning it then.’

‘You don’t believe in renewable energy?’ For a moment Perez was distracted.

Belshaw shrugged impatiently. ‘It’ll not provide enough. Not for the whole country! For Shetland perhaps, but we can’t live our lives here in isolation. In the real world we still need oil and gas.’ He gave a rueful grin. ‘Sorry – this is something John and I argued about too.’

‘So you thought maybe John and Rhona were meeting to discuss the water-power project?’

Belshaw considered for a moment. ‘No,’ he said. ‘I would have liked to believe that, but really I knew it wasn’t true. Because if that was why John was there, he wouldn’t have lied. And he’d have parked his car right outside the house.’

‘When was this?’ Perez asked. ‘When did it happen?’

‘Years ago. Neil was still a baby. Too young to play football, at least. And it’s five years since Agnes died.’

Perez was doing calculations in his head. Jerry Markham would have still been living in Shetland then, and Evie Watt could have been a chambermaid at the Ravenswick Hotel. Or still at school. He was trying to work out what it could mean, how it could all hang together, when Jen Belshaw spoke.

‘I saw him occasionally,’ she said. ‘Midsummer, you know, it’s light all night and the youngest bairn could never get the hang of sleeping. So I’d be upstairs in the front bedroom, nursing her. And I’d see John slipping out of the house and running down the street to his car. Eager to be back with Agnes, I suppose. Guilty for having left her alone for so long.’ She looked up at Perez. ‘If I saw him, other folk might have done too. I didn’t hear any rumours, but then people knew we were friends.’

‘You’re in the rowing team with the Fiscal,’ Perez said. ‘She never let anything slip?’

For the first time that evening Jen seemed to lighten up, to be her old self. ‘Rhona? A brilliant woman to row with, but she’d not tell you what she had for breakfast without a court order. No, she gave nothing away.’

Perez left the house and stood for a moment on the wide decking looking down to the sea. The light had disappeared and it was impossible to make out the individual craft in the marina. He switched on the phone. A number of missed calls from Willow Reeves and a voicemail from Sandy, who sounded desperate.
Please get in touch, Jimmy. We think we’ve found the Fiscal.

Chapter Forty-Four

Rhona’s boat was called the
Marie-Louise
. On Willow Reeves’s instructions, Sandy had called a few friends and asked them to keep an eye out for it. ‘Nothing urgent, but we need the Fiscal’s signature and we’re not sure just where she might be,’ he’d said, keeping his voice light. He thought he’d learned that from Jimmy Perez, the ability not to give away too easily what was in his mind. They didn’t want the Shetland rumour mill labelling Rhona Laing as a murderer! In the end the
Marie-Louise
had been found at the Hvidahus pier by Joe Sinclair.