Ann Cleeves - Cold Earth

Kathryn was in her classroom with a pile of exercise books on the desk in front of her. Now he was here, Perez wasn’t quite sure what to say to her. He realized now that the trip back to Ravenswick was partly an excuse to put off seeing Willow. He heard Fran’s mocking voice in his head again: Scaredy cat! Then he remembered his fiancée’s grey headstone being tipped over by the landslide, had a fleeting thought that perhaps the shock had released her spirit. But he didn’t believe in ghosts.

Kathryn looked up. ‘Jimmy! Is there any news?’

‘Just a few more questions, I’m afraid. I don’t want to bother your mother again, unless I can help it.’ He wasn’t sure where to sit. Perching on her teacher’s desk seemed too close and intimate and the children’s chairs were tiny. In the end he sat on one of the children’s octagonal tables.

‘Mum said that the detective from Inverness came to chat to her yesterday at the Red Cross shop. Bought her coffee and cake. That was kind. I don’t think Mum’s eaten properly since Dad died. Now she can’t stop.’ Kathryn set down her pen and gave him her full attention. ‘Mum said the detective was asking questions about money.’

‘Your father had a bank account,’ Perez said. ‘Separate from his business or personal account. Over the last six months considerable sums have been paid into it and we were struggling to find an explanation for them.’

She stared at him, her eyes hard and fierce. ‘Do you have to do this? Do you have to pry into every part of our lives? My father was a victim, but you’re making him sound like a criminal.’

‘I’m afraid we do have to ask uncomfortable questions.’ Perez had never imagined she could be so angry. ‘A lot of people get hurt in a murder investigation. It’s not only the victims. Do you have any idea where the money might have come from?’

Kathryn didn’t answer directly. ‘I miss him so much,’ she said and she was more herself again: the gentle young teacher who’d comforted Cassie when she’d tumbled in the playground, or who made the kids laugh when she read them silly stories. She looked up. ‘Dad was dreadful with money. He made plenty, but he always spent more. He was forever coming up with schemes that were going to make him rich. At one time he was going to invest in Stuart Henderson’s holiday lodges along the coast. I’m not sure what happened with that. Perhaps the money you’re talking about came from some of those investments.’

‘I don’t think so.’

‘Why don’t you come out with it, Jimmy? Was it something shameful? Shameful enough to make someone want to kill him?’ The outburst was the last spark of anger. She began to cry very quietly, took a handkerchief from her pocket and dried her tears.

Perez gave her a moment to compose herself and had to force himself to continue the interview. His instinct was to comfort her. ‘We think he might have been running an escort service. For contractors and islanders.’ He thought that was the kindest way of putting it and hoped she would understand what he meant.

It seemed she did. ‘You’re saying my dad was a pimp?’ The words shocked him, but they were flat and empty. He couldn’t tell if she was astonished by the idea or if she’d known all along.

‘We have evidence to suggest that he was organizing women in prostitution. Was there anything about his behaviour that might have made you guess what was going on?’ Perez thought he should have asked Willow to talk to the teacher. It didn’t seem right for a man to be asking these questions of her.

‘My father was a flirt. I’ve already told you that. He liked pretty women and I don’t think he would have seen anything immoral in prostitution. But I never guessed that he’d have set up a business supplying working girls. It wasn’t something we discussed over the dinner table, along with his council affairs and the price of fish at Shetland Catch.’ She looked straight into his eyes. ‘Will this have to become public? It would kill my mother if her neighbours and the people she goes to church with find out.’

Perez paused before answering. ‘If we have enough evidence when we find his killer, they’ll be advised by their lawyer to plead guilty. Then none of this will have to come before a court.’

‘I hope you find him quickly,’ she said. ‘This digging around in other people’s business is an act of violence in itself. It’s disgusting. There are things that should remain private.’ She stood up. ‘Please don’t ask my mother these questions, Jimmy. Dad wouldn’t have talked to her about this and she would never have guessed what he was up to, even if the evidence was staring her in the face.’ She looked out across the school yard. It was too dark to see the fields beyond and the lighthouse on Raven’s Head was already flashing.

‘Did you guess?’ He stood up too now. He was looking straight down into Kathryn’s face, but he couldn’t read her.

‘I knew he was excited about something. Some new venture or woman, to make him feel alive and young again. He was ambitious, Jimmy, and he was terrified of getting old. But I never guessed the details.’ Her words turned bitter. ‘Sex and an opportunity to make money, all rolled into one. He wouldn’t have been able to resist that. He’d have seen it as a project made in heaven.’

‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘You shouldn’t have had to know.’ He could imagine how he’d feel, if Cassie was ever ashamed of something he’d done.

‘My dad was a flawed man. He did stuff that embarrassed me and made me angry, but nothing you tell me will make me love him any less.’ A pause. ‘Now I need to get back to my mother.’ She put the exercise books into a canvas bag and pulled her waterproof from a hook on the door.

They were standing in the school porch and she was locking the door behind them.

‘I’m sorry, Jimmy. I shouldn’t have had a go at you. You were only doing your job. I’m over-protective about my father and always have been. If there’s anything else I can do to help find his killer, do ask.’

‘Do you know the Hay family?’ He wasn’t sure where the question had come from.

‘Sure, they’re great supporters of the school. We took the kids into the polytunnels to see all the plants grow. Part of a biology project. Why?’

‘One of the boys, Andy, was seen having an argument with your father a couple of days before he died. Any idea what that was about?’

‘None at all. But Dad always liked a good argument. It was one of the reasons he enjoyed being on the council. His idea of sport. It probably didn’t mean anything. I knew Andy a bit at school. He was a gentle soul. He wouldn’t start a fight with anyone. Sounds like a rumour that’s come out of nothing.’ She touched his arm, a final gesture of reconciliation, and ran towards her car.

On the way back to Lerwick, Perez switched on the radio. Radio Scotland had an item about the weather. There was to be no break in the wind and the rain. Shetland got its own mention. There were fears, the newsreader said, about another landslide.

Sandy stood outside the office at the Anderson High School, waiting for the secretary to finish answering the phone. He’d never been one for school. He’d made good friends here, but he couldn’t remember much of what he’d been taught. Enough of it had stuck just long enough to enable him to join the police service, but he didn’t think he’d made use of any of the facts he’d forced into his head. He couldn’t see the point of all those years of boredom.

It was coming to the end of the school day. Behind the closed classroom doors there was muffled conversation. Occasionally a teacher would shout for order, but there was no power behind the voice and Sandy could tell that everyone was just waiting for the session to be over. The secretary replaced the phone and came to the desk. She must be nearing retirement, a small bird-like figure with short white hair and big glasses. Sandy thought she hadn’t changed much since he was a pupil.