Ann Cleeves - Dead Water

‘Of course.’ Peter opened the door for her and seemed about to follow her out.

‘I can find my own way,’ she said.

‘Shall I come with you?’ Her father was already on his feet.

‘No,’ she said. ‘Stay there.’ It sounded like a command.

They watched her from the long window. She sat on a white wrought-iron bench by a small pond and seemed lost in contemplation, hardly moving at all.

‘I don’t believe her,’ Maria said suddenly. ‘She’s not the type of girl Jerry would have gone for.’ But Sandy thought that she was trying to persuade herself and not them. ‘I’m sorry, Mr Grey, but she must have deluded herself that there was more to the relationship than there actually was.’

‘My daughter’s not deluded,’ Grey said. ‘And she doesn’t lie. I saw the way your son looked at her. He adored her.’

The atmosphere in the room was so tense that Sandy felt like walking away. He would have preferred to wait for them in the car. But he stayed where he was.

In the garden Annabel stood up and shook out her hair. She didn’t look up at the window, but she must have known that they’d be looking at her. Peter Markham watched her hungrily, but said nothing.

They arrived at the airport too early for their rescheduled flight. Sandy went in with them. He carried Annabel’s bag again, sat the couple at a table and offered to buy them tea. He jotted down the names and contact details of the people in London who would have known Jerry – the vicar of the church where they’d met, other members of the congregation. The Greys seemed quite happy to pass on the information and didn’t question why he needed to know.

‘It must feel as if you had a wasted journey,’ he said.

‘Oh no, not at all.’ Annabel looked straight at him. ‘I expected Jerry’s parents to find it hard to acknowledge me. This must be dreadful for them. He said they had no faith, no comfort in their lives.’ She gave a little smile. ‘Only alcohol, and the search for more money than they could ever need.’

‘And I’m glad to be here to support my daughter during this terrible time.’ Richard Grey smiled. His mobile phone was on the table beside him. The red light flashed to show that he had messages, but he made a point of ignoring it.

Sandy was thinking that alcohol and money would do well enough for him.

A group of men came in. Sandy recognized them as boys who worked for Shetland Catch, the fish factory. They piled up to the check-in desk, jostling and laughing, excited about a trip south. A stag do, by the look of it. Catching sight of the beautiful Annabel, there was more good-natured sniggering and pointing. They were behaving like six-year-olds. Sandy took no notice of them, but he felt himself flushing. He didn’t want the Greys to think all Shetlanders were ignorant morons. Then the flight was announced and Sandy walked with them to security. He reached out his hand and Annabel took it into both of hers, held it for a moment.

‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘For everything. We do appreciate it.’

She turned away, but Richard Grey paused for a moment before joining her.

‘Tell me,’ he said. ‘Is Rhona Laing still the Fiscal here?’

‘Aye.’ Sandy tried not to look too surprised.

‘Ah, a wonderful woman,’ Grey said. ‘She was a junior member of our chambers, you know, when she was younger. She didn’t stay long. Too impatient and too ambitious. She soon moved on. Send her my best wishes, Sergeant. Tell her that Dickie Grey was asking after her.’

Then he too disappeared and Sandy was left with his mouth open, gawping like a fish on a hook.

Sandy arrived at the station before Willow and Perez got back from their trip north. He began phoning the contact details given to him by Annabel. His first call was to the vicar of the church that had hosted the advent course, the man who presumably had watched over Jerry Markham’s spiritual journey. In the background Sandy could hear the sound of noisy children and occasionally the man seemed distracted by them. Once he shouted away from the phone in the middle of the conversation: ‘Sal, will you tell the kids to shut up.’ There was no anger in his voice, though. It was as if he thrived on the chaos of the family.

Sandy explained who he was and what he wanted.

‘Ah, Jerry. A troubled man.’

‘Was he?’

‘He seemed that way to me.’ A pause. ‘He’d never been into a church in his adult life and I don’t think he’d have ventured into one at all if he hadn’t been at a low ebb.’

‘Could you tell me about his relationship with Annabel Grey?’

‘Annabel is a stalwart member of our church. Richard Grey doesn’t attend himself, but he’s been generous to us. He’s a wealthy man. I suspect he’d inherited a private income. And of course he’s had a successful career at the Bar. But those with money aren’t always the most generous.’

Sandy wondered where this was leading.

The clergyman continued. ‘Annabel took to Jerry immediately. There’s something romantic perhaps about a dissolute man in need of rescue and reformation, and from the beginning Jerry was honest about his past failings.’

Another pause.

‘And what did Annabel’s father make of the…’ Sandy struggled to find the right word ‘… attachment?’ In his dealings with the Greys he hadn’t been quite sure what Richard’s opinion of Jerry had been.

‘Ah…’ The vicar hesitated once more. Sandy had the sense that he was choosing his words carefully. ‘Richard was less impressed by Jerry’s charms than Annabel was. I don’t think he considered Jerry a suitable companion. You must understand, Sergeant, that father and daughter were very close. Annabel’s mother left when she was very young, and she has no siblings.’

‘Yet her father came with her to Shetland.’

On the other end of the line a door banged and the children’s voices faded into the background. Sandy imagined that they’d been shooed into the garden so that their father might continue his conversation in peace. He pictured somewhere sunny and overgrown, with a swing hanging from a tree. ‘Of course!’ the vicar said at last. ‘He’ll do all that he can to help her come to terms with Jerry’s death.’ He paused. ‘I’m not sure I should be telling you this, Sergeant. It’s just my opinion, you understand. But I’m not sure that Richard trusted Jerry’s reformation. His conversion. Richard asked me to persuade Annabel to take things more slowly and gave me the impression that he wasn’t overjoyed at the prospect of the marriage. I said that Annabel was an intelligent young woman and that Richard should trust her judgement to do the right thing.’

‘You thought it was a mistake then for Annabel to take up with Markham? You weren’t convinced, either, that he was a changed man?’

This time the silence went on for so long that Sandy wondered if the line had been cut. Eventually the man answered, ‘I don’t know, Sergeant. Really, even now I’m not sure.’

Late afternoon and they were back in the briefing room in the police station. Outside the rain was coming down in sheets, bouncing from the pavements, spilling from the gutters. There was a meeting in the town hall and they watched people running up the steps, their hoods covering their faces. Willow, standing at the front of the room, seemed to Perez to have lost her confidence. She’d thought the murder of John Henderson, and then the arrival of Annabel Grey, would provide a breakthrough in the case and it hadn’t. It only had left them with more questions.

‘Sandy,’ she said. Her voice was brittle with tiredness and a sort of desperation. Perez wanted suddenly to look after her, to give her small treats, in the way that he spoiled Cassie when she’d hurt herself or after she’d had a bad day at school. ‘What have you got for me?’