Ann Cleeves - Dead Water

‘You didn’t hear about it until this morning?’

‘No,’ Belshaw said. ‘We switched the phone off last night because Lucy was ill. I checked for messages when I heard the radio piece. We’d had a couple of calls, people letting us know what had happened.’

He led Perez into the kitchen. It seemed that Belshaw had been in the middle of stacking the dishwasher. There was no indication, here at least, that he’d been working. No laptop. Everywhere signs that this was a family home. Drawings on the fridge door, a pile of children’s clothes stacked on an ironing board in the corner. In a basket in the corner, knitting needles and some skeins of wool.

‘Is that why you’re at home today?’ Perez asked. ‘Because of John’s murder? I know you were close friends. I could understand if you were too upset to go in.’

‘We were very close. But no, my daughter’s still not well. Tonsillitis. It’s hard for the school to get a replacement for Jen at the last minute, and easy enough for me to work here. We’d fixed all that up last night. I’m glad, though. I wouldn’t want to be onsite this morning. I couldn’t concentrate.’ He shut the door of the dishwasher and switched on the kettle.

‘Have the press been onto you about it?’

‘No, why would they?’ A slight frown to suggest that he was puzzled by the question. Perez was unconvinced. Henderson might not have worked directly for the terminal, but he’d been employed by the Harbour Authority piloting within Sullom Voe. Belshaw must have realized that eventually the terminal would get a mention in the media and it was his role to manage that information. Surely he’d have prepared a statement. And surely, in this situation, a sick child wouldn’t keep him away from the site.

‘I was thinking it was quite a coincidence,’ Perez said. ‘Two murders, both in North Mainland. Jerry Markham was visiting the terminal the afternoon he died, and John Henderson was based with the Harbour Authority, just across the voe from you.’

There was a silence broken by the click of the kettle switching itself off. Belshaw stared out of the window.

‘And you think the press will make the connection?’ he said at last. ‘What a nightmare! The environmental campaigners will have a field day. There’s nothing they like better than a juicy conspiracy theory.’

‘ I’m making the connection.’ Perez raised his voice. ‘The fact that two men are dead is more important to me than the oil terminal getting a bit of bad publicity.’

There was another silence. Perez could just make out the faint hum of a children’s song somewhere in the house. He thought the sick daughter must be watching television in her room and wondered how old she was. Absent-mindedly Belshaw spooned instant coffee into two mugs.

‘Look,’ Perez said, ‘is there anything going on at the terminal that I should know about?’ He felt his temper fraying, could feel the strands of control splitting like pieces of rope. His depression manifested itself in anger.

‘What sort of thing?’

‘You tell me! Dodgy investments, backhanders to contractors, people playing fast and loose with health and safety? Best to let me know, so we can clear this up quickly. The press will find out anyway. And if you don’t cooperate now, you could find yourself charged with obstruction.’

‘What are you saying, Inspector?’ Belshaw seemed even paler, and as he set the mug on the table in front of Perez his hand was shaking.

‘I’m saying that Markham was sniffing round Sullom Voe on the afternoon he died for a better reason than the details of the expansion of the site for gas. He could have got that from a press release and a quick phone call. So what was he doing there? Really?’

‘Really? I don’t know any more than you do.’ Belshaw was almost shouting. Righteous indignation or panic? Perez couldn’t tell. ‘You know that I work for BP and have absolutely nothing to do with the gas terminal. Besides, renewables versus fossil fuels has been covered a few times before. Of course I asked him if there was anything else he might be interested in. But, honestly, he just seemed to be going through the motions. He asked all the right questions, but it seemed to me that he didn’t really care. I thought he’d been sent there by his editor.’

Belshaw stood with his hands flat on the table, his face flushed.

A child called from upstairs. ‘Daddy! Daddy!’ She’d heard the shouting through the open door and was scared. Belshaw said nothing. He filled a tumbler with juice from the fridge and left the room. Perez heard murmured voices as Belshaw reassured the girl. Perez stood up and prowled around the kitchen, noticed that from the window there was a bird’s-eye view of the marina. If the weather had been clear on the afternoon of Markham’s death, there would have been a good view of the killer lifting the body into the yoal. Belshaw must have come back very quietly, because Perez was suddenly aware that the man was standing behind him.

‘That’s why we bought this site,’ Belshaw said. ‘For the view.’

‘I don’t suppose you saw the Fiscal’s boat leave early yesterday morning?’

If Belshaw was surprised by the sudden change of subject, he didn’t show it. ‘I didn’t see it,’ he said. Then: ‘I’m sorry that I overreacted. I was close to John Henderson. He made friends with me when I first arrived in the islands. It feels as though I’ve lost an older brother.’ He turned and sat down again at the table. Perez joined him.

‘How did you first meet him?’ Perez asked.

‘At the sports centre in Brae. I used the gym and so did he. He guessed I might be feeling a bit isolated and invited me to join the five-a-side team.’ Belshaw looked up. ‘He was godfather to our son.’

‘Did you know his wife?’

‘Yes, she loved company and we’d call to see her, even when she was very ill. It was never a sad house. John was great with her – natural. You could tell they had a special relationship.’ Belshaw looked up over his coffee cup. ‘I don’t know how he could be so patient, so calm about her dying. I’d have been angry at the world.’

Oh yes, Perez thought. I know how that feels.

‘Then you ran the children’s football team together?’

‘Neil, my son, is a sports fanatic. I set up the team at Brae and asked John to come along to help. At first it was a kindness. I thought it might distract him from Agnes’s death. But he was great with the kids. Better than I’d ever be.’ He looked up again. ‘Oh God, the boys on the team will be devastated. I should phone their parents.’ But he made no move to leave his seat.

‘What did you make of John’s marriage to Evie?’

‘I was delighted, and so was Jen. Evie’s a lovely girl and we thought he deserved to be happy, maybe start a family. He was a lot older than her of course, but there was no reason why that shouldn’t work. It was a whirlwind romance. I think they only started dating six months ago, but John said he had no time to waste. Most people were never given a second chance of happiness. He said he didn’t deserve her, but he was going to grab his chance with both hands.’ Belshaw looked at Perez. ‘How is Evie taking this?’

‘She seems calm enough. I don’t think it’s sunk in yet.’

‘Jen was going to visit her as soon as she left work. There’s quite an age gap, but they’re good friends.’

‘I think Evie’s parents were going to take her back to Fetlar,’ Perez said. He was struck by a sudden thought. ‘Did you talk to John about the Markham murder? Had you seen him since the body was discovered in the yoal?’

Belshaw gave a little nod. ‘John wasn’t at football practice on Friday night,’ he said. ‘He was working a late shift. Sometimes that happened and I worked with the boys on my own.’