Ann Cleeves - Cold Earth

She expected Perez to push the point, but he only handed over the drawing. ‘Take it with you. Show it to your colleagues. Anyone recognize her, ask them to come and let us know.’

‘Sure. Bye, Jimmy.’

After the meal their plates were cleared by a large young man, wearing the same uniform of black jeans and Mareel shirt as Andy Hay. His face had a slightly grubby look, caused by an incipient beard and adolescent bad skin. His badge gave his name as Ryan.

‘Did Andy show you the drawing?’ Willow pushed her soup bowl towards him. He seemed incapable of energetic movement.

‘What drawing? Andy’s just gone off-shift. I usually work on the ticket desk, but they’re short-staffed so they asked me to help.’ A sniff of resentment. Clearing tables seemed to be beneath him.

‘This drawing.’ Perez pulled out another copy and laid it on the table.

Ryan pulled up a chair and sat with them. Willow thought the Shetland kids displayed the same confidence as the building itself. They’d grown up in a time of plenty, when anything seemed possible.

‘Do you know this woman?’ Perez shifted his chair to make more room. ‘She was having a drink here with a middle-aged guy.’

‘I don’t work in the bar – still at school. I’m on the desk in the lobby at weekends, selling tickets. I’m pretty sure I’ve seen her, though.’

‘Have you not seen her face in the paper, heard the news on Radio Shetland?’

‘I don’t really bother with the paper.’ The boy was unrepentant. ‘Too busy working for Highers.’ A quick grin to show that was only an excuse. The Shetland Times was for his parents. He had his phone and tablet for information.

‘Tell me about the time you saw her.’

‘Well, it would have been a Saturday night. Saturday’s the only evening I do, and it was definitely an evening.’ He leaned back in his chair.

‘She came to the desk downstairs to buy tickets?’

‘For the movie, yeah.’

‘Did she pay?’

‘Yes, but it was just one ticket. She was on her own.’

‘Are you sure? Another witness saw her in here with a middle-aged man. Perhaps she was with him, but he paid for himself?’

The boy screwed up his face into a grimace to show he was thinking. Willow supposed most of the kids working in Mareel had artistic ambitions. It seemed this witness had a theatrical bent too.

‘No,’ he said. ‘She was definitely on her own.’

Willow sensed Perez’s frustration. He’d hoped for more from this encounter: a description of the dead woman’s companion, even if they couldn’t get a name. He’d been battling to identify her for two days. Willow smiled at the boy. ‘What time did you serve her?’

‘I’m not sure.’ No histrionics this time.

‘Was she in a hurry? Was it almost time for the film to start?’ Another smile of encouragement. Perez was usually very good at this, at putting a witness at ease, but he’d become too close to the case already. It had become a personal challenge to put a name to the victim.

‘No, there was no rush,’ Ryan said. ‘There was still about half an hour to go, I think. She went straight from the counter into the bar.’

‘It was busy there?’

‘Yes, that time of night it’s usually busy. Not just with folk coming to the cinema or a gig, but people stopping for a drink or a coffee on their way home. We’re close to the business park.’ He nodded vaguely in the direction of the sea.

‘So she could have met the guy later? He could have bought his own ticket and joined her in the bar.’ Or they could have met up by chance. Perhaps he was one of the businessmen on his way home from work. If the place was busy, they could have been forced to share a table. But in that case he would have got in touch with the police by now. Middle-aged people would read The Shetland Times .

‘Yeah, I guess so.’

‘Were you still on duty when the film finished?’ Willow had taken over the conversation. Perez was staring into his coffee. But he was listening. The thing about Jimmy Perez was that he was always listening. Willow wondered if he listened in his sleep.

‘Saturday night I’m always on the late shift.’

‘Did you notice the woman leaving?’

‘No,’ the boy said. ‘But that didn’t mean she wasn’t there. It’s always a crush when the film ends. And we just want them away.’

‘That Saturday, what else was going on here? Was anything happening in the small hall?’

He shook his head. ‘It’s usually quite quiet at this time of year. Folk are still recovering from Up Helly Aa.’

‘Thank you, Ryan.’ Willow dismissed him with a smile.

Perez gave the boy a brief wave as he walked away, but said nothing.

Perez had booked her into a new B &B. It was run by a friend of his, some lad he’d been to school with, someone who had gone south to make his way in the world. Another person who had come home when there was a child on the way. It was the old sheriff’s house, on one of the lanes leading up from Commercial Street, an easy walk away from the police station, but quiet. It had a garden with mature trees, unusual in this part of the town. Perez shouted, walked in and led Willow down to the basement kitchen. It was warm. A large Aga took up the whole of one wall. A very pregnant woman sat at the table peeling carrots and potatoes. Willow couldn’t help staring and had the same odd sensation as when she’d seen the women drinking coffee in Mareel. This time she identified it: envy. I want to carry a child in my body. I want to look like that.

The woman lifted herself to her feet and moved the kettle onto the hot plate.

‘My God, Rosie,’ Perez said. ‘How much longer is it now? That thing can’t get any bigger or you’ll burst.’

Rosie smiled. ‘There’s a week or so yet, Jimmy. You’ll need to get the case wrapped up before then, or John will be on breakfast duty.’ She turned to Willow. ‘And trust me, you wouldn’t want that.’

Willow’s room was at the top of the house under sloping eaves. Perez took her up, carrying one of the bags, to save Rosie the stairs. It was freshly decorated in seaside blues and greens, with a view of Bressay Sound.

‘What does John do?’

‘He’s an accountant, managed to get a job with the council. Might give it up, if the B &B takes off. The water’s his first love. Plan is to get a small boat and do tours round the islands, take visitors out for a day’s fishing.’

She nodded. ‘It must be hard to spend your day doing one thing, all the time dreaming of doing something else.’

‘Ah,’ Perez said. ‘John’s happy enough.’

There was a slightly awkward silence. Neither of them was very good at talking about personal stuff. It was a relief when Perez’s phone rang.

‘That was Sandy,’ he said when the call had ended. ‘He and Vicki are on their way back to the station. They’ve run out of light. He says there’s something we should see.’

‘Give me two minutes to wash my hands. I’ll see you downstairs.’

She heard his feet disappear down two flights of polished wooden stairs, but she was thinking of Rosie, wondering what it would feel like to hold in her belly a child that was pushing and straining to get out.

When Sandy and Vicki reached the police station it was quite dark. On the way north the rain had become heavier and there was standing water in dips in the road. Sandy couldn’t wait until spring, for some light and warm breezes to blow away the gloom. Perez and Willow were waiting for them. Perez sat at his desk and seemed to be brooding. Sometimes depression caught up with the inspector and seemed to swamp him. Then Sandy knew better than to try to cheer him up. Best to let Perez pull himself out of the black mood in his own time.