Ann Cleeves - Dead Water

‘Have you been in contact since?’

‘I sent a couple of snivelling emails after I lost the baby. I thought perhaps he’d consider seeing me again. That he’d feel sorry for me. How pathetic was that! Using a dead baby to get him back! He didn’t reply.’

Somewhere in the distance a dog barked. ‘And now you’re about to be married,’ Perez said.

Her face lit up. ‘Yes. To John Henderson. He’s a pilot up at Sullom Voe. A widower. His wife died of cancer five years ago. I’ve known him since I was a peerie lass – he was a friend of my father’s, and though he’s not quite of the same generation, he seemed very old then. I’d have laughed out loud if you’d told me I’d be engaged to him.’

‘How did the relationship start?’ Thinking: My love and I met over a dead body in a snowy field in the dark days of winter.

‘Through the kirk at first. Then John’s interested in green energy and came to a couple of meetings that I organized at work. He’s a kind man. Kindness can be very sexy, don’t you think?’

Perez nodded.

‘It was an old-fashioned courtship,’ Evie said. ‘My friends laughed at the way John treated me. They couldn’t believe that we didn’t move in together. But I loved it. Like I said, I’m an old-fashioned girl.’

‘Did he know Jerry Markham was around and trying to get in touch with you?’ Perez kept his voice light. Shetland was a small place, and it was probably a coincidence that Markham had visited the terminal just over the voe from Henderson’s workplace just before he died. Probably.

‘I thought I’d better warn him,’ Evie said. ‘I didn’t want the two of them just bumping into each other. John is angry about the way Jerry treated me. He would never have treated a woman that way.’ Suddenly she realized the implication of what she was saying. ‘But he’s a good man. Gentle. He wouldn’t hurt a fly. John Henderson’s not your killer, Inspector.’

Perez arrived to pick up Cassie from the Haa at six o’clock, just the time they’d agreed. Fran’s ex-husband, Duncan, had her waiting for him and Perez sensed that the man was relieved the weekend was over. Duncan loved his daughter more in the abstract than in reality. He had too many other demands on his time to give her the attention she needed, and now that she had become a solemn and withdrawn child he didn’t know quite what to do with her. He would have been more comfortable with a boy, robust and active. But Duncan’s occasional lover Celia was much older than him and he would have no other children.

Once, Duncan and Perez had been close friends. Perez had spent weekends in the big house when he was a boarder at the Anderson High School, and the Hunter family had introduced him to a different, more relaxed way of living. They’d lost most of their money by then, but they had the confidence that went with generations of owning land and feeling superior. It occurred to Perez that this house was similar in age and size to the Ravenswick Hotel, though there the resemblance ended: the Haa was crumbling from the inside, and most of the rooms were boarded up and never used. Duncan preferred to spend his cash on playboy living rather than the family home. He held on to it through nostalgia and because it gave him a certain position within the islands – it still made him feel like a laird.

Now the men got on only for Cassie’s sake. They had little else in common. It was an odd childcare arrangement – two men, both former partners of Fran, sharing custody of a little girl – and the welfare authorities had taken some persuading that it would work. It did work because Perez was determined that it should. This was what Fran had wanted and he had an obligation to her.

When Perez drove up, Cassie was sitting on the wall outside the house, reading a book. Her bag was on the gravel beside her feet. Duncan was looking at the engine of his jeep. Celia’s car was there too, but there was no sign of her. Cassie was so engrossed in the story that she didn’t hear Perez until he slammed the door shut. Then she smiled Fran’s smile and jumped down to greet him, not making too much fuss in case she hurt Duncan’s feelings. It seemed to Perez that a seven-year-old shouldn’t care so much about hurting adults. It worried him that she was so anxious to please.

‘Had a good weekend?’ He put the bag into the back of his car, eager to get her home. There was school tomorrow, the start of the new term. And if he spent too long in Duncan Hunter’s company he came close to losing his temper.

‘Brilliant! We went fishing and cooked the piltock on a fire on the beach. Celia and I made brownies for pudding.’ And he saw that she had had a good time, she wasn’t just putting on a show for her father.

Duncan wiped his hands on a bit of rag. ‘Everything OK, Jimmy?’ He said the same thing every time they met. In his less generous moods, Perez thought Duncan was afraid that the detective would fall apart, leaving Duncan with sole care of his daughter. Then there would be no exotic business trips to Europe, none of the famous, wild parties at the Haa.

‘Fine.’ Perez opened the back door of the car and shifted the booster seat into its proper place so that he could strap Cassie inside. The last thing he wanted was a conversation with Fran’s ex-husband.

‘I heard there was some trouble at Aith on Friday.’

‘Did you know Jerry Markham?’ Perez straightened. Cassie had opened the book again and was lost in her story.

‘I knew him when he worked on the Shetland Times . And he’s been here to a party occasionally when he’s been home. I haven’t seen him recently.’

‘You don’t know anything about a story he was writing? Haven’t heard any rumours about problems at Sullom Voe?’

‘No.’

Perez thought Duncan probably would have heard rumours if there were any flying around.

Cassie was in bed and asleep early. Perez thought there’d been too many late nights at the Haa, too much sugar and too many treats. He was setting out her clothes for school the next morning when the phone rang.

‘Sorry to disturb you on a Sunday evening, Jimmy. I’ve got Sandy with me and there have been developments. I wonder if we could meet?’ It was Willow Reeves. Perez pictured her and blushed at the memory of the stab of lust he’d felt when he’d followed her into his house in Lerwick.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘My stepdaughter’s in bed. I couldn’t get a sitter at this sort of notice.’ He always called Cassie his stepdaughter to outsiders. It would have seemed an impertinence to claim her as his own.

‘Perhaps we could come to you then? It would be useful to have a chat this evening. Time’s moving on.’ And she made the arrangements, told him what time they would arrive. He would have liked to refuse, but she didn’t give him a chance, and by the end of the conversation it was all fixed up.

She was about to end the call when he broke in. ‘If you want a dram, you’ll have to bring it yourself. I’ve nothing in the house.’

When they arrived Perez put cheese and oatcakes on the table. He found that he was nervous. He’d lost the habit of entertaining and wasn’t quite sure what he should do. And he couldn’t forget how he’d felt about the Uist woman in the Lerwick house. It hadn’t been her fault, he supposed, but he found himself blaming her for what had felt almost like adultery. He realized he’d forgotten small plates for them and saw that his hand was trembling when he lifted the crockery from the cupboard.

Willow Reeves made herself quite at home. He’d lit a fire when he and Cassie had arrived back from her father’s house, because it was still only April and the evenings were cold. Willow sat on a kitchen chair in front of it and stretched out her long legs across the sheepskin. He saw how tired she was, the skin around her eyes looking dark like bruises. Sandy set a bottle of whisky on the table – an obscure island malt that Perez had never tasted. ‘A present from the boss,’ he said.