Ann Cleeves - Dead Water

‘What was the name of the lass?’ Perez had never heard this story. But then he’d been living in his house in Lerwick when it had happened. Fran might have known about it, might even have told him. She’d come up with snippets of gossip when he visited, but he’d had his mind on other things then.

‘Evie Watt. She worked here over the summer before she went off to university.’

‘Francis’s daughter?’ Francis Watt was well known in the islands. He did a column in the Shetland Times every week about island traditions. He was probably the only man in Shetland to regret the coming of the oil.

‘Aye.’

‘Did she keep the baby?’

‘I think she intended to, but then she had a miscarriage. Maybe it was for the best, eh?’

Perez thought that an outsider, and especially a man, couldn’t really say what was for the best when a woman had lost a baby. His ex-wife Sarah had suffered a miscarriage and things had never been the same between them afterwards. She had a brood now with her second husband, a Lowland GP, and they lived in an old farmhouse in the Borders.

‘Does Evie still work here?’ Perez asked.

Brodie pulled a face. ‘What do you think? This is the last place she’d want to spend her time. She’d never know when Jerry would appear from the south to catch up with his folks.’

‘She’s not still a student? Perez was thinking another pint would go down well, but decided immediately that he’d stick with coffee. He might go into Lerwick later and see if Sandy was back in the police station. He could pass on this information about the girlfriend. ‘Her course must have finished years ago. What’s she up to now?’

‘I don’t know.’ Brodie seemed uncomfortable. He’d always suffered from acne and the spots seemed more red and livid as the conversation progressed. Perez wondered if the man had fancied Evie Watt himself. ‘I saw her in one of the halls at Up Helly Aa, but she was with a gang of friends and we didn’t chat. I think she might have moved back. Not to Fetlar, but to Shetland. That was the impression I had.’

‘You haven’t been in touch with her since?’ Perez asked.

Brodie shook his head. ‘She was way out of my league,’ he said. ‘Pretty and smart. No point setting yourself up to be disappointed, is there?’

‘Sometimes it’s worth taking a chance.’ But Perez wasn’t sure that was true. He would never take up with another woman.

On his way out of the hotel he decided that he’d call on Peter and Maria after all. Maybe it was the beer giving him a strange sort of confidence. He’d been in their flat a couple of times, invited in after dinner in the restaurant for coffee or a dram. He’d been with Fran on both occasions and had sensed that Peter Markham found her attractive. More than that, that the hotel owner had been obsessed by her. He’d been perfectly civilized and jovial, but he’d seemed almost breathless when he approached her and, even when his wife was talking, his eyes had strayed back to Fran. Perez had teased Fran about it: ‘You’ve got an admirer.’ And she’d laughed back. ‘He’s a very attractive man, Jimmy Perez. And he has much more money than you. You should take care!’ The memory of that conversation brought his lover back to life for him for a moment and he was almost grateful.

He asked Brodie to let the Markhams know he was on his way up. ‘I just want to give my condolences.’ And Brodie nodded as if he suspected Perez had planned the visit from the beginning.

The door at the top of the stairs was open ready for him, and Peter and Maria were in the room beyond. Because it was at the top of the house there were views all the way along the coast and across the Sound, beyond Raven’s Head to Moussa. Briefly Perez’s attention was caught by the view. He’d only been in the room in the dark before.

Peter Markham stood up. ‘Do you have news for us, Jimmy?’

‘I’m not involved in the investigation,’ Perez said. ‘Not officially. I wanted to say how sorry I am.’ He saw that Maria hadn’t moved. She’d glanced round when he came into the room, but remained quite still now, in her seat. He thought she’d aged overnight. Perhaps that was because she wasn’t wearing make-up. Usually her eyes were lined with black. Fran had said once that she’d like to paint Maria. ‘She reminds me of a Flamenco dancer. Experienced and soulful. Don’t you think so?’ And again they’d laughed together, joking that perhaps Jimmy and Maria’s ancestors had come from the same part of Spain. Legend had it that Perez’s forebear was a survivor from the Spanish Armada ship El Gran Grifon , which had been shipwrecked on Fair Isle. No reason why there couldn’t have been other survivors, other relationships between the sailors and local girls.

‘Sit down,’ Peter said. He moved across the room so that he was blocking Perez’s exit. He needed company and conversation and didn’t want the visitor to escape too quickly. ‘I’ll make some coffee. You will have coffee with us, Jimmy?’

Perez nodded and said that he would. He sat with his back to the window so that he wouldn’t be distracted by the view, by all that space.

‘Would you mind if I asked some questions?’ This was directed at Maria. Peter could still hear, but he was in the small kitchen that led off the living room, the door between them wide open.

She looked up. ‘No,’ she said. ‘Ask away.’ Showing that she couldn’t care about anything now. Perez knew just how she felt.

‘Is there anyone who might have wanted to hurt Jerry?’

‘Of course not. Why would they?’

‘No jilted girlfriends then?’ Perez kept his voice light.

‘He’s talking about Evie.’ Peter shouted from the kitchen before his wife could reply. ‘That’s what you’re thinking, isn’t it, Jimmy?’

‘I heard she was pregnant and her family was none too happy.’

‘They were barbarians.’ Maria’s voice sounded very loud suddenly. ‘They came here and made a scene. The father foaming at the mouth like a rabid beast. As if it was solely Jerry’s responsibility, as if the girl had nothing at all to do with it. But Evie was always the light of the man’s life.’

‘That was years ago.’ Peter Markham came through with a tray of coffee. He set it on a low table. ‘Evie went away to university and Jerry got his job in London. Her parents calmed down. I saw Francis Watt in Lerwick just last week and he was almost civil.’

‘She lost the baby,’ Perez said.

‘Yes, we heard about that.’ Peter stooped over the table to pour coffee, and Perez couldn’t tell what he thought about missing out on the chance to be a grandfather. ‘Not directly from Evie, but through other people, as one does in Shetland. Word always gets out.’

‘She didn’t tell Jerry that she’d had a miscarriage?’ Perez thought it was odd that the news hadn’t come through their son.

‘I don’t think they were communicating much at that stage. She had been very much in love with him, you know. She was young and it hurt her when things didn’t turn out as she’d hoped.’

‘She was stupid,’ Maria said. ‘She should have realized that Jerry would want someone more interesting than her for a long-term relationship. She’d spent all her life on Fetlar. What would he see in her?’

‘Oh.’ Peter stroked the back of his wife’s hand, an attempt perhaps to calm her, to prevent her speaking of the girl so unkindly. ‘She was a pretty little thing. I could definitely see the attraction. But she could have had nothing to do with Jerry’s death. She’d moved on. Francis told me that she’s about to be married. Her husband-to-be is a seaman, older than her. He’s a pilot at Sullom Voe. A good man, according to Francis.’