Ann Cleeves - Red Bones

The Fiscal considered for a moment. Perez thought she was weighing up the cost of a trip south against the value of providing good customer service to a politician. ‘Get yourself to London to talk to her, then. Get this afternoon’s plane south. Give me a ring when you get back.’

Sandy shuffled his feet, making the shingle scrunch and shift. Perez knew what was going on in the Whalsay man’s head. Take me too. He wasn’t sure if Sandy had ever been to London; perhaps once on a school trip. He pictured him wandering around the streets, staring up at the buildings he’d only ever seen in films or the television news. Sandy looked up at Perez and caught his eye. Pleading. Perez read the expression exactly. He’d sensed the tension in Utra. Sandy was desperate to escape, even if only for a couple of days. But there was no way he could justify both of them being away from Shetland.

Perez took a risk, knew he would probably come to regret it later. It was as much about showing Rhona Laing that he wouldn’t be bossed around as giving Sandy a chance.

‘I wonder if this is a job Sandy could do. It would be fine experience for him.’

Fran was in London. If Perez went himself he’d have the opportunity to spend the night with her. But she’d want to introduce him to her friends. He knew how it would be. Some trendy wine bar, loud voices discussing topics about which he had no knowledge and no opinion. He’d show her up. So this was about cowardice too.

Rhona Laing raised her eyebrows. ‘This is a sensitive job, Jimmy. The woman’s a politician.’ Sandy wasn’t exactly famous for his tact or discretion. Or his brains.

‘I think he’s ready for it. We’ll talk it through before he goes. And I want to be here.’

She shrugged. ‘Your call.’ Leaving him in no doubt that he’d be the one to get the blame if Sandy screwed up.

Perez caught Sandy’s eye again and saw pure terror. This wasn’t what he’d had in mind at all. He’d imagined going along with Perez for the ride, a night in a London hotel on expenses, a bit of sightseeing, not being left with full responsibility for the interview, not having the wrath of the Fiscal on him if he made a mess of things. ‘Go and get your bag packed. I’ll call in to Utra when I’ve done here and we’ll discuss the approach you should take.’

Sandy scuttled away.

Perez walked with the Fiscal to her car. ‘I really don’t think that was one of your most sensible decisions,’ she said sharply. ‘I’m not sure he’ll even get as far as London without a minder.’

‘I think I’ve under-estimated him in the past. He’s shown a lot of sensitivity on this inquiry. Besides, Gwen James will be good at handling questions from sophisticated interviewers. She does it all the time in the Commons and with the media. I hope Sandy’s simplicity will get under her guard.’

The Fiscal looked at him as if she didn’t believe a word, as if Perez were mentally ill himself, but said nothing.

News of Hattie’s death had got out around the community, as Perez had known it would. A small group of onlookers had gathered at the gate, drawn by the drama rather than by any sense of involvement with the dead woman. She was one of the lasses working on the dig; that was all. Even Evelyn only thought of her as part of the project. Mima was probably the only person on the island to have really known her.

When the Fiscal drove off the people started to drift away and Perez saw Sophie on the edge of the group.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said. He could see that she’d been crying. She wasn’t the sort to cry easily and he was surprised by the display of emotion. He watched the other people walk back to the road. Most of the islanders had cars there. Jackie Clouston scurried back on foot to her mansion on the hill. Had she left Andrew alone to check what was going on?

Sophie sat on the grass beside the track. She was wearing combat trousers and a university sweatshirt, walkers’ sandals. Her toes were wide and brown. ‘I feel dreadful. There I was slagging her off yesterday, and all the time she was planning to kill herself.’

‘You had no idea anything like that was in her mind?’ He sat beside her.

There was a pause. Perez thought she was preparing to say something significant, but she seemed to decide against confiding in him and only shook her head. ‘I never knew what she was thinking at all.’

‘You won’t be able to work here. Not for a while at least.’ He still thought the Setter land should be treated as a crime scene. ‘When were you planning to leave?’

‘I thought I’d stay until after Mima’s funeral,’ Sophie said. ‘I decided when I heard what had happened. Hattie would like me to be there for that.’

In Utra Sandy was in a state of terminal panic. Joseph was nowhere to be seen. His mother was ironing a shirt for him and there was a pile of underpants on the kitchen table. Evelyn was obviously proud that her son had been chosen for the mission but was ratcheting up the anxiety. Edinburgh she could understand. Michael had been to college there and lived there. It represented sophistication. London was a different world, alien and violent. A place of hooded gangs and foreigners.

‘You’ll only be away a night.’ Perez took a seat.

‘Where will I stay?’

‘I’ll get Morag to book somewhere for you. And I’ve fixed up for you to meet Hattie’s mother in her home. It’s in Islington. Not far from the Underground. I’ll show you a map. She’s been told about her daughter’s death. Don’t worry, man. This time tomorrow you’ll be on your way back into Sumburgh.’

I’m not sure I can do this. He didn’t have to speak the words. Perez knew what he was thinking.

Evelyn finished ironing the shirt and hung it on a hanger on the door. She folded up the ironing board and propped it against the wall. Then she left the room with the underpants in one hand and the hanger in the other. They could hear her banging around in Sandy’s bedroom. She obviously considered him incapable of packing for himself.

‘Look,’ Perez said. ‘The woman’s a mother who’s just lost her daughter. That’s all you have to concentrate on. Forget about what she does for a living. Imagine how Evelyn would be feeling if your body was washed up on the shore.’

‘Guilt,’ Sandy said after a pause. ‘She’d be wondering what she could have done to prevent it.’

‘And Gwen James will be feeling just the same. You don’t want to make her feel bad about what’s happened. She’ll be guilty enough without you adding to it. Your role is to get her to talk about her daughter. Don’t ask too many questions. Just give her time and the sense that you’re really listening to her. She’ll do the rest.’

‘Couldn’t we suggest she fly up here? Then you could talk to her.’ Sandy had the air of a man desperately clutching at straws.

‘I did suggest it and I’m sure she will want to come up. But she says not now. She prefers to be in her own home. And I prefer you to see her there, on her own territory, where she’ll feel most comfortable. You can do this, Sandy. I’d not send you to London if I didn’t think you’d do it well.’

Perez left Sandy to get ready and went outside to find Joseph. The older man was in the barn doing something to the insides of an ancient tractor. When he saw Perez he wiped his hands on an oily piece of cloth. He looked very pale.

‘This is a terrible business. Two deaths on Setter land.’

‘Nothing to do with the place, surely,’ Perez said.

‘I don’t know. That’s how it seems.’

‘You were there last night.’

‘How do you know that?’ The older man looked up, startled. It was as if Perez had performed some sort of conjuring trick.