Ann Cleeves - Raven Black

The cabins had leather seats and televisions with Sky TV. In the summer he took groups of his friends to Norway. There were wild parties as they sailed up the fjords.

'Robert wasn't Catherine's boyfriend?' he asked. 'No: she said, too quickly.

'Only, I've heard he has a taste for younger lasses.' She knew better than to answer.

'Maybe you fancy him yourself?' His voice was joky and she could tell he didn't mean it, but still she felt herself blushing.

'Don't be daft,' she said. 'You don't know what my mother's like. She'd kill me.'

'You really can't remember anything about the car or the driver?'

She shook her head.

'Catherine was supposed to be at a party the night before she went missing. Were you there too?'

'I've told you.' Her voice was bitter. 'I'm not allowed at parties.'

'Did you know anything about it?'

'I wasn't invited. People have stopped bothering to ask me. They know I'll not be going.'

'Didn't anyone mention it at school today?'

'Not to me.'

He sat looking into the fire. 'Is there anything else you think I should know?'

She didn't answer immediately, but he waited.

'That night we came back from Lerwick,' she said.

'Early New Year's Day.'

'Yes.'

'We went up to see the old man. Magnus. We'd both been drinking and his light was on. It was a sort of dare, to knock on the door and wish him happy new year.'

Perez showed no surprise. Perhaps she'd been hoping to surprise him. 'Did you go in?'

'Yes, for a while.' She paused. 'He seemed obsessed with Catherine. He couldn't stop staring at her. It was as if he'd seen a ghost.'

When he left the school at Ravenswick Perez set back towards Lerwick. He thought he might just fit in a visit to Robert Isbister before the plane arrived from Aberdeen. There'd been delays at the airport and the Loganair people weren't sure when it would get in. It seemed he'd spent all day driving backwards and forwards down the same bit of road, but he wanted to show the team from Inverness that he'd made some progress, that he hadn't just been sitting waiting for them to arrive.

Perez never quite knew what to make of Robert Isbister. He'd been spoiled, that was clear. His father was a good man, who had been surprised by his sudden affluence. He was generous to his friends and family in a discreet, almost embarrassed way. Robert worked hard enough at the fishing, but everyone knew he hadn't paid for that showy big boat by himself.

Michael Isbister would have given him the money. And then everyone knew too that Robert's parents hadn't much of a marriage. It can't have been easy growing up in that family, despite the wealth. It must have been hard knowing that everyone talking about them had a kind of smile on their face, which was half sneer and half sympathy.

Throughout his life, Robert would be compared to his father. It was lot to live up to. Perez knew something of what that was like. His father was skipper of the Fair Isle mail boat. Before any decision was made about life on the Isle he was consulted. But for Robert it was worse. Although he was a quiet and unassuming man, Michael Isbister was famous everywhere in the islands. He was a musician, an expert in the dialect words and traditional songs. He'd been on the Up Helly Aa committee since he was a young man. This year he'd been awarded the honour of being made Guizer Jarl. It meant a lot to him.

More than an honour from the Queen. He would lead the procession of the fire festival, appear on television, give radio interviews. For this year, at least, he would represent Shetland to the rest of the world. Robert would be in the Jarl's squad, dressed like a Viking, the same as his father. A sign that he hoped to follow in his father's footsteps. And everyone in Shetland would be watching to see if he measured up.

Robert wouldn't be at home this early in the evening. He might be out with the boat, but Perez didn't think so. When the inspector visited friends at Whalsay earlier in the week, the Wandering Spirit had still been there, dominating all the other vessels at the mooring. Perez drove through the town and out towards the docks. He pulled into a side street, parked and got out to a cold which took his breath away, the smell of fish and oil.

He hoped Robert would be on his own. He didn't want an audience of the man's cronies for this conversation.

As he pushed open the door to the bar, the warmth hit him. There was a coal fire, banked up hard. Only a small grate, but it was a small room, walls stained brown by tobacco and coal smoke. On the walls there were smeared photos of long-past Up Helly Aa squads, groups of men staring out, self-conscious but earnest. The academics might deride the tradition, but these men were deadly serious. They believed they represented the islands' culture, their way of life.

And in the corner of the gloomy bar sat Robert Isbister. His wild white hair seemed to light up the room.

He was pouring a bottle of Northern Light into a glass, concentrating as if he'd already had a few. He didn't notice Perez come into the room. Behind the bar a tiny, skinny woman sat on a high stool, reading a paperback book which she'd bent back at the spine and held in one hand as if it was a magazine. She forced her eyes from the print.

'Jimmy. It's early for you. What are you having?' You could tell she wasn't that thrilled to see him. He'd not be good for business.

'Coke please, May: He paused, looked at Robert.

'I'm driving:

Neither she nor Robert made any response.

Perez took his glass and sat at Robert's table. May returned to her book. She was lost immediately. Sarah had read like that. There could be a volcano under the house and she'd not notice. Robert looked up, nodded.

'Have you heard about the body they found at Ravenswick?' Perez said. No point in being subtle. Not with Robert.

'May said something when I came in: The words were slow, careful. Was that the beer or another sort of caution? Robert enjoyed a few pints with the lads but he didn't usually drink heavily this early on a week day.

'A friend of yours, I understand:

Robert set down the glass. 'Who was it?'

'A young lass. Catherine Ross. You did know her?'

The pause was a beat too long. 'I'd seen her about.'

'Only sixteen. A bit young even for you, Robert: It was a standing joke that Robert went for younger women. Perez thought it was because he'd never grown up. The big boat was to prove he was a man.

He continued. 'New Year's Eve..:

'What about it?'

'After the market cross you went to a party:

'Aye. The Harvey girls' place in Dunrossness: 'You gave Catherine Ross a lift home. As far as the Ravenswick turn off.'

Robert turned his head so Perez was looking into the pale blue eyes. Bloodshot. Worried.

'I wasn't driving,' Robert said. 'I'm not that stupid:

'Who was?'

'I don't know his name. A young lad. Still at schoo1.'

'Friend of Catherine's?'

'I don't know. Maybe:

'Any idea where he comes from?'

'Somewhere in the south. Quendale? Scatness?

The family haven't been in Shetland long:

'You said you'd seen Catherine around. Where had you seen her?'

'Parties. Bars in town. You know how it is:

'She was the sort of girl you'd notice then. The sort of girl you'd pick out in a crowd:

'Oh yes,' Robert said. 'You'd notice her. She didn't say much. She was always watching, weighing you up.

But you couldn't help noticing her! He picked up his glass, took a drink.

Suddenly he seemed more relaxed.

'How did she die?' he asked. 'Hypothermia, was that it? Too much to drink and passing out in the cold?'

'Did she drink a lot?'

Robert shrugged. 'They all drink too much, don't they, those young girls? What else is there for them to do in the winter?'