Ann Cleeves - Dead Water

Willow’s phone rang. Perez thought it would be a personal call at this time of night. He wondered if she’d want to take it in a different room, but there was only his bedroom, and he was embarrassed to show her in there. He kept the rest of the house clean and tidy for Cassie’s sake, but he never bothered much with his own space. It seemed, though, that the call was work-related and she stayed where she was. They sat watching her, listening, gathering only from her questions and occasional replies that this was someone with whom Markham had worked. When she switched off the phone she was frowning.

‘That was a woman called Amelia Bartlett. Markham’s boss. Seems she’d been away for the weekend. I’d left messages for her, but she’s only just got them.’ Willow looked at them. ‘She doesn’t have any idea what story Jerry was working on. If there was a story. As far as she was aware, Jerry was in Shetland on annual leave. She said he hadn’t been himself lately. He’d been very quiet. She wondered if he’d been ill. Stress maybe. Burnout. And that was why he’d wanted the time out.’

Sandy caught John Henderson at work early on Monday morning in Sella Ness, just across the water from the oil terminal. This complex was run by Shetland Islands Council and there were no gates or barbed wire here. Sandy thought a terrorist wanting to attack the terminal could just drive down the road and row a small boat across the voe. Though maybe it wouldn’t be that easy: the harbour master or the pilots would see what was going on, and there were probably closed-circuit cameras covering the water.

He found Henderson in Port Control, drinking a mug of tea and listening to Bobby Robertson, who worked for the vessel traffic service. There was a panoramic view over the water and the place looked just like the bridge of a ship, with radar screens and high-tech equipment that beeped and flashed. Sandy was intimidated by the instruments and the sense of efficient expertise, by the smartness of Henderson in his officer’s uniform. The pilot was middle-aged, grey-haired.

‘What’s this about, Sandy? I don’t have long.’ The pilot looked at his watch. ‘I’m just about to go out on a job.’

Sandy thought he was an intelligent man and he shouldn’t have needed to ask. He’d have heard about Markham’s murder. ‘Just a word,’ he said. ‘And maybe somewhere in private?’ He could sense that Bobby Robertson was listening to every word, and he was a famous gossip.

‘Just come along here then.’ Henderson led him away from the control room and pushed open the door to a small bedroom. ‘This is where I stay when I’m on night shift.’

‘You’ll have guessed what this is about,’ Sandy said.

‘Jerry Markham.’

‘Aye, did you know him?’

Henderson nodded slowly. ‘Not well, but I’d seen him around. Once or twice at the Ravenswick Hotel when he was still working for the Shetland Times .’

‘You didn’t like him?’ Henderson had closed the bedroom door and Sandy felt trapped in the tiny space. He’d never liked being shut in. Was this what it felt like to be in a submarine? A prison cell? He was aware of his own breathing and wondered if Henderson could hear it too.

‘I didn’t like his column in the Shetland Times . It always seemed kind of unpleasant to me. Sneering and cynical. He made out he was better than anyone else. More cool. Those of us who loved living in the islands weren’t worth bothering with.’

‘And he’d been Evie’s boyfriend,’ Sandy said.

Henderson looked at him. His eyes were blue and sharp.

‘What are you saying?’

‘That there’d be no love lost between you. Nothing more than that.’

Henderson leaned towards Sandy. Not a threat, but preparing for a declaration. ‘Markham treated her badly,’ he said, ‘but if he’d done the decent thing and stood by Evie when he got her pregnant, she wouldn’t be engaged to me. And she’s the best thing that’s ever happened in my life since my wife Agnes died. I still wake up in the morning and thank God for sending her to me. I have no reason to kill him.’

Sandy wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that. ‘How long have you been on your own?’

‘Five years.’ The man paused. ‘I hadn’t thought I’d miss the company. Agnes and I never had children, and I was used to being on my own. Then I got to know Evie and it was like coming alive all over again. A fresh start, you know.’

Sandy wondered if that might happen to Jimmy Perez one day: he might meet a bonny young woman and fall in love with her. He couldn’t see it. Nobody would make Jimmy light up as Fran had done.

A thought occurred to him. ‘You live in Hvidahus, don’t you? Are you involved in this campaign to stop the tidal energy coming ashore there?’

‘No, I don’t see it as a problem. There’ll be a bit of disruption when they widen the track and build the substation, but I can live with that.’ He gave a little laugh. ‘Besides, Power of Water is Evie’s baby. She’d kill me if I objected.’

‘The wedding’s on Saturday?’

‘Aye, in the kirk just up the road from Evie’s house, and a party in the community hall in the evening.’

Sandy wondered how Henderson would get on at a party. It was hard to imagine him drinking too many drams and dancing with the pretty bridesmaids. ‘Evie didn’t fancy going home to Fetlar to be wed?’

‘She has old college friends coming up from the south and it’s easier for them to get to the mainland.’ Henderson smiled. ‘At least, that was what she said. But I think she knew how much it mattered to me to be married close to home. We’re both members of the congregation there. Her family understands, and we’ll go over to Fetlar on Sunday to visit the old folk who can’t get out to the wedding. Evie will put on her wedding dress and we’ll take them some cake. You know how it is.’

Sandy nodded. He knew just what was expected. ‘Did you know that Markham was in Shetland this week?’

In the control room a phone rang. Henderson waited until it had been answered before he spoke again. ‘Evie told me he was back,’ he said. ‘But I heard the news about the murder on the radio like everyone else.’

‘Markham phoned Evie a few times when he was here. I wondered what that was about.’

‘Evie didn’t tell me about the calls until last night. She was worried I’d be upset that Markham was pestering her.’ Henderson had one of those voices that didn’t let on what he was feeling, so Sandy couldn’t tell whether he was angry Evie hadn’t told him about them before, or pleased that she’d let him know eventually. ‘She didn’t answer them.’

‘Markham was over at the terminal on Friday afternoon,’ Sandy said. ‘Did you see him?’

There was a moment of silence. ‘Why would I?’ Henderson said. ‘We bring the tankers in and then we take them out. Then we leave. We have no real contact with the terminal.’ He looked at his watch again – the only indication that the interview was starting to irritate him.

‘Where were you on Friday night?’

‘I was here,’ Henderson said. ‘Catching some sleep because I was on call.’ He stood up. ‘Now is there anything else, Sandy? I should be getting back to work.’

‘Were you called out to work on Friday night?’ Sandy asked.

‘Not until the early hours of Saturday morning.’ Henderson seemed almost amused by the question, but again Sandy had no real idea what he was thinking. ‘But I have no proof for you. No witnesses. They don’t lock us in.’

Outside a helicopter came in to land at Scatsta. The noise was very loud and the room seemed to shake. Sandy thanked Henderson for his help and left the building. As he walked to his car a group of men in identical blue overalls stared at him. He felt as if he was in one of those cowboy films he’d watched as a kid – the stranger riding into town.