Shetland 05: Dead Water (36 page)

Joe had phoned the station and Sandy had taken the call. ‘One of the boys from Delta Marine wanted to look at the Power of Water site and I met him there. I’ve never seen the
Marie-Louise
at Hvidahus before, and Rhona’s not on board. It’s probably nothing, but it seemed kind of strange that she’d leave the vessel there.’ Sinclair said he’d called the Fiscal’s phone number, wondering if there’d been a problem with the boat and she might need help with it, but there was no reply. Eventually, as the light started to go, he’d grown anxious and had called Sandy Wilson.

‘With so many strange things going on recently,’ he’d said, ‘I thought you should know.’ Then he’d paused. ‘It’s a big tide tonight. Rhona would know that. She wouldn’t leave the
Marie-Louise
just tied up to the pier, where it might be damaged.’

Sandy’s first impulse had been to call Jimmy Perez, but there was no reply and he’d spoken to Willow Reeves instead. He was no good at taking decisions for himself. Willow had thrown the question back to him. ‘What do you think, Sandy? Will you go? I’m still waiting for the accountant to get back to me, with the information about the Power of Water co-op.’

He’d sensed from her tone that she wanted him to check it out. And Sandy remembered Perez slowing the car each time they passed the Old Schoolhouse in Aith, showing his concern about the woman. ‘Aye,’ he’d said at last. ‘I think it’s worth a look.’ He’d thought that there was that good fish-and-chip shop in Brae and he could call in there on his way home. It felt as if he hadn’t eaten proper hot food in weeks.

Perez must have picked up the voicemail, because he arrived at Hvidahus at the same time as Sandy. Sandy recognized his car, driving down the bank towards the water ahead of him, and felt a dizzying sense of relief. Jimmy Perez, not quite himself and a little bit mad, was better than no Jimmy Perez at all. In the big white house where the Walshes lived the curtains were drawn.

There was no natural light at all left now, and the grey drizzle formed a halo around the one street light at the pier. Perez opened his boot and brought out a torch, then walked over to meet Sandy. Joe Sinclair had disappeared. Sandy imagined the harbour master, warm and fed, watching television with his wife, with a can of beer in one hand.

‘So what do you think has happened here, Sandy?’ The inspector was already walking quickly along the stone pier towards the boat. Sandy had hoped that Perez would tell
him
, but now he was forced to consider the matter. He hurried after the inspector.

‘Maybe she’s done a runner? She thought we’d be watching out for her car and brought the boat here, arranged for a taxi to meet her perhaps, then went south to the airport. It’s pure chance that Joe Sinclair came along.’

Perez had reached the mooring of the
Marie-Louise
and stopped suddenly. ‘Is that what Willow Reeves thinks?’

‘She thought right from the beginning that Rhona was involved in this case.’ The pier was wet and Sandy walked slowly. The last thing he wanted was to slip and end up in the freezing water.

‘So she did,’ Perez said. ‘And it looks as if she was right all along.’

It sounded as if he was talking to himself and Sandy didn’t like to ask what he meant.

Perez shone his torch towards the vessel and then stepped aboard onto the narrow deck in the bow. Sandy stayed where he was. It might be a fancy yacht, but still there wasn’t much room and, if the boat turned out to have been used in a crime, the last thing the CSIs would want would be his feet all over it. Perez stood for a moment. He seemed to be listening. His dark face was caught in the torchlight and looked all shadows. Then, without a word, he disappeared below. For a moment all Sandy could hear was the water against the jetty and the wind making the wires sing. Torchlight seeped through the hatch. He wanted to shout to Perez:
Well? What have you found?
But the inspector had never liked it when Sandy was impatient, so he stood feeling the damp on his skin and reaching through to his bones. And feeling tense, he had to admit. He’d never been good at waiting.

At last Perez emerged from below. He stood with only his head and shoulders visible.

‘It’s clean,’ he said, ‘as far as I can tell.’

‘No sign of the Fiscal?’ Sandy felt a bit ridiculous now. He realized he’d been scared that there might be a body. Rhona Laing stabbed, like John Henderson. Blood and guts spilled over a cabin. He’d never liked blood, even though he’d grown up on a croft and had helped his father to kill the beasts. He gave a little giggle to hide his relief.

‘No.’ It was hard to tell what Perez made of that.

‘So we should tell Willow Reeves to check with Sumburgh and the NorthLink?’ Sandy was wondering if Perez might fancy fish and chips too. Cassie was staying at her father’s tonight, so he wouldn’t have to rush home. It would be good – the two of them having a sit-down fish supper.

‘That would be a start.’ Perez climbed out of the hatch now and jumped out onto the pier. Sandy couldn’t see his face clearly, but could tell from his voice that he was frowning. ‘Willow Reeves was right about one thing,’ Perez went on. ‘Rhona Laing wasn’t telling us the truth.’ He strode away towards his car.

‘Where are you going?’

Perez paused for a moment, the car door already open. ‘To look for her.’ As if Sandy had asked the daftest question in the world. ‘In John Henderson’s house.’

Sandy went to the passenger door. It was just a short ride up the bank. He could collect his car later.

‘Not you,’ Perez said.

Sandy felt as if he’d been slapped. ‘What do you want me to do?’

‘Tell Willow to check on Evie Watt. Where is she? Is she OK?’ He paused. ‘And then head off to the Ravenswick Hotel. I need you to talk to Maria. This is what I want you to ask.’ Then he gave Sandy three questions and made him repeat them several times, until he was sure Sandy had got them exactly right.

Willow asked Sandy to call into the police station on his way south to Ravenswick. He knew that his phone call to her from Hvidahus had been garbled. He thought it was unfair of Jimmy Perez to rush off to John Henderson’s place all on his own, leaving him to explain to Willow Reeves what was going on. He drove as fast as he could down the island, breaking the speed limit all the way.

He could tell she was furious as soon as he knocked at her office door, and her first words were a giveaway. ‘So, what the fuck’s going on, Sandy? Has Jimmy lost the plot altogether, do you think? Should we be calling for the men in white coats?’

‘He said he was going to look for the Fiscal.’ Here at least Sandy was on firm ground. That was just what Perez had said.

‘And where did he hope to find her?’

Sandy shrugged. ‘He was looking in the Henderson house.’

‘Why there?’

Another shrug. ‘Because we found her boat close by?’

‘So you just let Perez go off alone?’ Her face was flushed and her freckles seemed very dark, almost like scattered spots of ink. ‘You didn’t think it was a good idea to ask him to come in and explain his theories, the way his slightly deranged mind is working?’

‘He gave me a message for you.’ Sandy broke in before she could continue. He could tell she was all set for a good rant, and he still had to get to Ravenswick.

‘And what was that, Sandy? What words of wisdom did he ask you to pass on?’ Willow leaned back in her seat, her arms folded across her chest. Sandy decided she was probably being sarcastic, but he thought he would answer the question anyway. His best mate’s parents had separated when he was a peerie boy and for the first time Sandy understood what it must have felt like to be caught in the crossfire between warring adults.

‘Jimmy said you should get in touch with Evie Watt. He said you should check that she was OK.’

‘He thinks Rhona Laing is going after Evie now?’ Willow’s voice had turned high-pitched, almost hysterical.

‘I don’t know,’ Sandy said. ‘I’m just passing on the message.’

‘Evie’s in Fetlar with her parents.’ For the first time a touch of anxiety had moderated her fury. ‘Isn’t she?’

‘I think so. But that was what Jimmy asked me to tell you.’

There was a moment’s silence. Sandy could see that the inspector was thinking. She had one of those faces that were almost transparent. It was as if you could see the thoughts behind her eyes, passing like clouds across the sky on a windy day.

‘What else did Jimmy Perez ask you to do?’ Her voice was calmer now and quieter.

‘He said I should go to the Ravenswick Hotel and talk to Maria. He said I should ask her three questions.’

He thought Willow would ask him what those questions were and had started to rehearse them in his head. But she only looked at him with those sharp blue eyes.

‘You’d better get along then, Sandy. Let me know how you get on.’

The Ravenswick Hotel was busy. There was a big party in the restaurant, a birthday, and the guests were getting rowdy. Not unpleasant drunk, but noisy, lingering over coffee and drams. There were helium balloons, which had started to deflate, and a half-eaten cake with pink icing. The other diners had moved on to the lounge and the bar, and perhaps because there were so many people around, Maria was helping out. Sandy couldn’t see Peter, but assumed that he was there too.

Maria was taking an order for coffee from a party of elderly tourists sitting in old leather chairs in a corner of the lounge. She looked very smart in a black dress and black tights, shiny shoes with pointy heels. Sandy thought she’d lost weight and that the dress looked better on her now than it would have done a couple of weeks ago.

He stood at the door and watched her until she’d finished writing the order. She didn’t see him until she was making her way back to the kitchen, then she stopped in her tracks.

‘Sandy. You have some news for me?’ He could see then that the dress and the efficient taking of orders, the smile for the tourists, were all a show. Her face was pale and drawn. She walked on without waiting for a reply. Suddenly, he thought, she found the laughter from the restaurant, the noise from the bar, even the muted classical music playing in the lounge unbearable. He followed her through the swing door into the kitchen. She handed the slip of paper on which she’d written the order to one of the staff and led Sandy on, past the sinks and the fridges to a small storeroom. She leaned against the wall, next to a huge drum of vegetable oil. ‘Well?’

‘No news,’ Sandy said. ‘Not tonight. But we’re very close. Tomorrow we should have something for you.’ Even as he spoke the words he wondered if he was being rash, if his faith in Jimmy Perez was misplaced.

‘So why are you here, Sandy? What is this about?’

‘I’m sorry to disturb you,’ he said, ‘but I have some questions. Important questions.’

‘Go on then, Sandy.’ Her voice was impatient. ‘What is it this time?’

For an instant his mind went blank and he had a moment of panic when he thought he would never remember what Jimmy had told him. Then it came back. ‘You cut a piece from the
Shetland Times
about Evie’s engagement to John Henderson. Did you tell Jerry about that?’

‘I sent him a cutting,’ she said. ‘We take a dozen copies of the paper here in the hotel for the guests. It was a kind of joke. I wrote in the margin. Something like:
Look who she’s ended up with!
’ Maria stared at him. ‘What could that have to do with Jerry dying?’

‘I don’t know.’ The truth. ‘Inspector Perez thought it might be important.’

‘Is there anything else, Sandy? You can see that we’re busy.’

‘Jerry’s car,’ Sandy said. ‘The Alfa. Did you buy it for him? A present for getting that job in London?’

She was so tired now that she didn’t even question why he wanted to know. ‘No. We gave him money for his first six months’ rent. He bought the car for himself.’

It took her longer to answer Sandy’s last question. She grew animated and waved her arms around, and after a little while Sandy had to make an excuse and leave.

Chapter Forty-Five

In the end Perez left his car at the pier and walked up to Henderson’s house. He went slowly, listening all the time for unusual sounds. Out on the water there was a boat. Boys after creels, perhaps. The first trip out of the season, caught out by the poor visibility and the change in the weather. In his head it felt like midnight, but here in Hvidahus it was seven o’clock. In the Haa, Duncan Hunter would be getting Cassie ready for bed. He would probably forget to read her a story. When he arrived at the Henderson house, Perez paused again and listened. Nothing unusual. He looked at his mobile and saw that he had reception. He made a phone call.

He replayed his search of the
Marie-Louise
. There’d been nothing on deck. No footwear prints to get Vicki Hewitt excited. Everything tidy. Ropes coiled and the moorings tight. Rhona Laing would be that sort of sailor. Even in a panic she’d follow procedure. Below deck it had been just the same. The cabin was immaculate. No bedding on the bunk, no sleeping bag, so Rhona hadn’t planned to spend a night away. In the small galley Perez had found the same sense of order. Had that neatness first attracted John Henderson? Had he seen in the Fiscal’s compulsive tidiness a sign that he’d found a kindred spirit? Someone quite different from Agnes, with her arty generosity and her exuberance. In the galley Perez had reached out and touched the kettle on the Calor gas hob. It was cold.

He’d flashed the torchlight around the cabin floor, but had seen nothing of interest. It was only as he was preparing to leave, to return to the deck and Sandy Wilson, that he’d glimpsed a scrap of litter, a piece of paper, wedged behind a clock in a wooden case. Not the sort of place it would get to by accident, but perhaps it had been put there to stop the clock rattling. Perez had pulled it out and shone the torch on it. A compliment slip from Jamieson’s, the wool merchant in Lerwick. What had he been expecting? A postcard with a picture of three fiddlers?

Vicki Hewitt had finished her work in the Henderson house and it was locked. There was no light showing through the uncurtained windows. He opened the garage and found a door from the back of it that led into the kitchen. Everything was quiet. He fumbled to find a light switch and the sudden brightness made him blink. All quiet and all tidy. He’d hoped that the Fiscal might have come here. A last chance to mourn her former, secret lover. He’d imagined her brooding, a large whisky in one hand maybe. But it seemed he’d been wrong. Anxiety began to nibble at his brain. He felt his heart rate quicken. He opened doors into all the downstairs rooms. The place felt cold and dead. It was hard to believe that Henderson had been living here less than a week before.