Ann Cleeves - Thin Air

‘She’s well,’ he said. ‘Fewer nightmares at least.’

‘And are you sleeping better these days?’ When she’d last been in Shetland Perez was still on sick leave, depressed and struggling to survive after the death of Cassie’s mother.

‘I’m fit for work,’ he said quickly. ‘Signed off the sick months ago.’

‘You’ve always been fit for work, Jimmy. I’ve never been teamed with a better detective. But that wasn’t what I asked you.’ She should have been tired, but her brain was still fizzing. It was almost like having jetlag. Two island groups and you’d think they’d be similar, but arriving in Shetland she always felt that she was in another, more distant country.

He shrugged, a kind of apology for being so sensitive. ‘There are good days and bad days. More good now.’

‘And you’re OK with working on this? Eleanor Longstaff would be about the same age as Fran when she died.’ She looked at him, wondering if she’d overstepped the mark again, trespassed into his personal grief.

‘Yes,’ he said and smiled at her. ‘There’ll be no tantrums this time, I promise. I’ll behave myself.’

Willow wasn’t sure how to answer that. They stood and climbed the impressive stairs and at the top turned to go their separate ways.

The next morning she returned to Sletts. Perez’s colleague Mary was still there. She’d made up a bed for herself in a small boxroom that had been advertised in the holiday brochure as being ideal for children. ‘It was quiet all night,’ she told Willow, ‘but I’m not sure how much sleep they had. They all look exhausted this morning.’

‘Where are they?’ The house seemed empty. ‘Are they out?’

‘No, they’re having breakfast outside. Not quite sure why when there’s a perfectly decent table in here. But they’re English. A thing about fresh air maybe. I guess they don’t have so much of that in London.’

Willow found them on the deck. They were arranged much as they had been the night before, with Polly and Marcus on either side of the white picnic table and Ian in the middle, staring out at the water. She thought he was built like a bull, with all the weight in his shoulders and neck. His legs and feet were almost dainty.

‘We don’t know what to do,’ Polly said. ‘We were thinking that we might go home.’

‘That’s what you were thinking.’ Ian Longstaff’s words were brutal, even cruel. It was as if he despised the woman. ‘I’m staying here until I know what’s happened.’

There was a moment of shocked silence. ‘Then we’ll stay too,’ Polly said. She seemed close to tears. ‘Obviously. We won’t leave you here on your own.’

Ian put his head in his hands. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘That was rude. But I can’t think straight. Everything’s so crazy and out of control. We came for a party, and now Eleanor’s gone.’

To Willow the words didn’t sound entirely convincing. She’d had him down as a strong, silent type and wouldn’t have thought it was his style to apologize.

‘We’d be grateful if you’d stay for a couple of days,’ she said mildly, ‘until we have more information about Eleanor’s death. We’ve set up a base in Springfield House on the island here and I’d like to start taking statements there this morning, if that suits you. You haven’t made any other plans?’

‘I keep expecting her to appear.’ Ian said. ‘Like those ghosts that seemed to fascinate her in the last weeks of her life. She’ll wander down the beach in the dress she was wearing on Saturday night, and she’ll pull me by the hand and expect me to dance with her.’ There was a moment of silence and then he turned to Willow. ‘Of course we’ll all help you if we can. Who do you want to speak to first?’

‘Mr Wentworth.’ She turned to the dark man. ‘If you wouldn’t mind, sir.’ She’d thought about it on the way to Sletts and had decided that he’d be the most objective witness. He might be shocked that a woman he’d known had died, but he wouldn’t be as emotional. They’d been almost strangers. ‘In half an hour, if that would suit you. Would you need a lift?’

He shook his head and said he had his own car. She gave him directions, and when she left the English people were still sitting in silence.

He arrived at Springfield House at exactly the agreed time. She’d taken over the small morning room as an office. The sun shone directly in through the large sash window and the room was filled with light. There were cut flowers in a glass bowl on the mantelpiece and she felt like a Victorian lady of the manor sitting at the mahogany table. Jimmy Perez was with her, but they’d agreed that she would lead the interview. Perez seemed subdued and distracted and she wondered if he was actually sleeping as well as he’d claimed the night before. Or perhaps he was anxious about Cassie. He’d arranged for her to stay with her natural father for a few days, and Willow knew the relationship between the two men was difficult.

Marcus Wentworth sat on a yellow brocade sofa. He seemed quite at ease and not to mind the silence that followed his entrance in the room. Willow saw that as a kind of arrogance.

‘Tell me how you fit into the party at Sletts,’ Willow said. ‘You didn’t know Caroline or Lowrie well, yet you were invited to the hamefarin’.’

‘I didn’t know Caroline and Lowrie at all actually,’ he said. ‘I think Polly swung the invitation. You know how it works. Do you mind if I invite Marcus along? That must have been how it happened. And I was delighted. I’d never been to Shetland, and a wedding this far north was always going to be something special, wasn’t it?’

‘How long have you known Ms Gilmour?’

‘About six months.’ He paused, looked up and smiled. ‘We’ve become very close, though. She’s quite reserved and I’m only just getting to know her properly. Polly’s a very gentle person, actually. I love that in her. Rather shy too. I hope you’ll remember that when you talk to her. And the fact that she’s just lost a very dear friend.’

Willow decided he was one of those public-school boys who never really grew up. He’d be given to sentimentality, to ideas of honour and protecting his woman. She’d gone out with an army officer once who had a similar view of the world. The relationship had been destined to fail from the start. ‘How well did you know Eleanor?’

Marcus looked across to Perez. ‘I explained to your colleague that I was very much the outsider of the group. The four of us had dinner a couple of times, and of course we spent time chatting on the ferry from Aberdeen. She seemed lovely, but she was Polly’s best friend, so I was disposed to like her.’

There was a pause. Willow wondered why she’d taken such a dislike to the man. Perhaps it was just because he reminded her of a former lover and she should learn to be more objective. ‘Tell me a little bit about yourself, Mr Wentworth. What do you do for a living?’ She made her voice warm to compensate for the antipathy.

‘I run my own tour company. Specialist travel to North Africa and the Middle East for people who want to stray off the beaten track, but are a little nervous about doing it on their own.’ He paused. ‘Sorry, that sounds like a sales pitch. I took a gap year before university and got the travel bug. Worked for other people for a while, then I set up for myself. I don’t need to advertise these days. Most of my work comes from word-of-mouth recommendation. I specialize in elderly Americans. Very wealthy elderly Americans.’ He gave her a quick grin, but she didn’t respond.

‘How did you meet Ms Gilmour?’ Willow thought they made an odd couple: the rangy tour leader and the quiet librarian.

‘She came on one of my holidays. Morocco. Taroudant and the Atlas Mountains. The rest of the group had an average age of seventy and didn’t want to wander much from the hotel pool or the minibus, so we spent a lot of time together. She’s a kind woman.’ He looked up suddenly. ‘Kindness is very attractive, don’t you think?’