Blue Lightning

by Ann Cleeves

  She had the picture in her head, was so engrossed in fixing it there, that Poppy’s second question startled her. She’d almost forgotten that the girl was with her.

  ‘They all think I killed Angela, don’t they?’

  ‘I don’t know what they think.’

  ‘I hated her,’ Poppy said. ‘I’m glad she’s dead.’

  ‘It must have been hard, your parents splitting up. You were still quite young.’ But not as young as Cassie when Duncan and I separated and she seems to have survived. I hope she’s survived. The perennial guilt of the lone parent.

  Poppy stopped in the middle of the road. ‘I didn’t hate her because she made my parents divorce. I mean, that was a pain. I thought my mum and dad were happy. But it happens all the time. I could cope with it. There aren’t many of my friends who live with both parents now. I just hated her.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘She was a cow and she treated my dad like shit.’

  Fran didn’t know what to say. She was curious, of course. For the first time she could understand Perez’s fascination with the detail of his work, this voyeurism into other people’s problematic lives. But really, what right had she to pry? She didn’t have the excuse of work. In the end, she didn’t have to say anything. Poppy was already continuing.

  ‘You know Angela only married my dad so she could get the job on the island? I mean, look at him. What else could she see in him?’

  ‘He’s kind,’ Fran said. ‘Understanding.’

  ‘He’s old and worn out. He wears corduroy trousers and cardigans. He’s going bald.’

  Fran grinned. Poppy caught her eye and began to giggle too. Fran thought it wouldn’t be so bad having a teenage daughter. Mary drove down the road behind them. She stopped and shouted to ask if they wanted a lift back to Springfield.

  ‘We’re OK to carry on walking, aren’t we?’ Fran asked.

  ‘Sure.’ Poppy smiled again. ‘My mother’s always saying I need more exercise.’ Just like you.

  ‘Why were you so desperate to leave the island?’ Fran asked. ‘Was it just that you didn’t get on with Angela?’

  There was a pause. ‘I used to love coming here when Dad first moved up. I mean, it was a sort of adventure. Mum would come with me on the train to Aberdeen and Dad would meet me there. We’d get the ferry. I was the youngest kid at home and always felt a bit left out, so it made me feel special to have that time with him. The overnight ferry, then the plane into Fair Isle. And Angela made more of an effort to get on with me then. She’d take me out ringing with her. Out in the Zodiac to count the seabirds.’

  ‘What went wrong?’

  Poppy shrugged. ‘I guess I grew up. I could see how she treated my father. Like he was some sort of servant. He was a senior lecturer at the university, important in his own right, before he married her. She had no right to talk to him like that.’

  ‘So you hadn’t wanted to come to the Isle this time?’

  ‘They wanted me out of the way.’ Poppy’s voice was becoming shrill.

  ‘Who did?’

  ‘My mother, the school. I was becoming a nuisance so they decided to banish me to the far north. Like it was some sort of Russian prison camp. Like I’m some political fucking prisoner.’

  Fran didn’t say anything. This is what Jimmy would do. He’d wait. She’s so angry that she’ll just keep talking.

  A raven appeared overhead. Fran heard it croaking before she saw it and the noise made her shiver and remember past horrors, distracted her again from the girl ambling along beside her.

  ‘They don’t like my boyfriend,’ Poppy went on. ‘He’s older than me. Different background. They pretend to be open-minded, but they look down on him because he gets his hands dirty when he works and he doesn’t talk like we do. Just because his parents couldn’t pay for him to go to a smart school. They blame him because I lose it sometimes. But they’re the ones who make me angry. They make me want to lash out.’

  ‘Sometimes it doesn’t hurt to spend a bit of time apart.’ God, Fran thought, I sound like the agony aunt from a tabloid newspaper.

  ‘I’ve been trying to text him,’ Poppy said. ‘And phone him. But he hasn’t answered. He’s probably found someone else.’

  Fran saw this was at the root of the girl’s misery. It had affected her more than Angela’s death and her father’s grief; she felt abandoned. She had been desperate to leave the island to find out why her older man was refusing to respond to her. When she was mooning in her bedroom, listening to depressing music and watching endless television, it was the man she was thinking of, not the violence of her stepmother’s death.

  ‘Angela knew,’ Poppy said. ‘She knew that Des hadn’t been in touch. She laughed about it: “What would a grown man see in you?” She didn’t do it when Dad was around, but when we were on our own she’d pick away at me: “Heard anything from the boyfriend yet? Still no news?” I think it drove me crazy. In the flat with the wind howling outside. Nobody to talk to. I dreamed of killing her. When it actually happened I could almost believe I’d done it, I’d wanted it so much. I was drunk and I couldn’t remember much about the night of your party. Perhaps it was me after all.’

  She turned so Fran saw her face and realized how scared she was. She wanted a reassurance Fran wasn’t able to give. Fran tucked her arm around Poppy’s and they walked together into the shop. ‘Chocolate,’ Fran said in the no-nonsense tone she used to Cassie when she woke with nightmares. ‘That’s what you need.’

  They sat on the bench outside the shop to eat the sweets they’d bought. ‘Do you have any idea who might have killed Angela?’ Fran asked. She couldn’t help herself. ‘You were there all day, every day.’

  Poppy shook her head. ‘She was in a weird mood all week,’ she said. ‘I mean, even weirder than usual. Something was freaking her out. She treated them all like she did me – poking and prying. It could have been any of them.’

  Later Fran and Mary distracted Poppy with long games of Scrabble and Cluedo. They sat at the kitchen table and at last could hear the sound of sheep and herring gulls over the wind. James was at the Haven supervising the return of the Good Shepherd into the water. In the croft, Poppy shrank back into herself and there were long periods of silence. She could have been sulking. It seemed to Fran that the girl switched from a woman to a child and back again in seconds. She wondered how any parent could deal with these mood changes. She could see why Poppy’s mother had needed a break.

  At four o’clock Fran offered to drive Poppy back to the North Light. She hoped she might catch up with Perez there, even for a few minutes, and thought she was as star-struck about him as the girl was with her unsuitable boyfriend. But Poppy said she would walk.

  ‘Are you sure? It’s a long way. It’ll be almost dark by the time you get there.’

  ‘Like you said, I need the exercise.’

  ‘I’ll come with you then.’ Fran was already on her feet.

  ‘No,’ Poppy said. ‘I could do with some time on my own.’ Suddenly she became almost gracious. ‘You can understand how I feel. I’ve been trapped inside with all those people for almost a week. But thanks for today. It’s been great. A real help.’

  Fran went out to the track and watched her take the east road past Kenaby. A small dark figure, the hood of her cagoule pulled over her head, disappearing into the distance. The light was beginning to fade and just before Fran lost sight of her, she was tempted to run after her. Perhaps she should have insisted on accompanying her back. Perez might disapprove of Fran allowing her out alone. But Poppy needed the chance to make her own decisions and Fran went back into the house.

  Chapter Nineteen

  While the field centre staff and guests were having lunch, Perez walked down to the haven to talk to his father. There was the habitual anxiety before the encounter. He’d grown up with the sense that he’d never match the older man’s expectations. Big James wanted a son who was an islander, who understood the traditions and sensibilities of the pl
ace. Most of all he’d wanted a boy who wouldn’t question his own authority.

  The crew were lowering the boat from the slipway into the water. Perez would have been glad to help but the operation was over before he arrived at the jetty. Old school friends grinned up at him.

  ‘You arrived just in time then, Jimmy. Are you volunteering to come out with us tomorrow?’

  They knew he suffered from seasickness if the water was very lumpy. More teasing. Had he always been the butt of their jokes? It wouldn’t have been because he was a Perez – here in Fair Isle that was a mark of honour – but because he was different, more thoughtful. They’d all been surprised when he said he wanted to join the police. It was the last thing they would have expected of him. He’d joined up for all the wrong reasons: not for car chases and action, or even a regular salary. He’d had a romantic notion of making things right.

  ‘The body of the murdered woman went out on the chopper,’ Perez said, smiling at them, because really there was no malice in the teasing. ‘No point me coming out with the boat. And you won’t have to deal with her.’

  ‘That wouldn’t have caused us any bother. It’s the living that make the fuss.’

  Mary had made Perez sandwiches, enough to feed an army. He stepped onto the deck of the Shepherd and handed them round. His father was in the wheel-house and though he waved to Perez he didn’t come out to join them; even on the boat he kept himself apart. He was the skipper and they all knew it.

  ‘What did you make of Angela Moore?’ Perez leaned against the rail. The sun had come out again and he could feel the faint warmth on his face.

  The young men looked at each other and then at James in the wheelhouse to make sure he couldn’t hear. The skipper disliked lewd jokes and bad language.

  ‘She knew how to have a laugh,’ one said. Careful. After all, Jimmy Perez was police, also his father’s son.

  ‘That’s one way of putting it.’ Tammy Jamieson was the youngest crew member, a clown, easy-going, generous. Not given to discretion. ‘She’d shag anything that moved. If he was fit enough.’

  Then they were all jumping in with stories of Angela’s wildness, the flirting and the drinking. They’d been talking about her among themselves since they first heard of the murder. There was the day the cruise ship put in and she disappeared below deck with the head purser. The politician who’d flown in for an hour to speak to a meeting of the island council, and was still in the North Light two days later, and most of the time spent in her bed. ‘At least her husband was away that time.’

  ‘Has she ever had an affair with an island man?’ Perez asked.

  Now they were careful again. They shuffled and giggled but they wouldn’t speak.

  He pressed them: ‘There must have been rumours.’

  ‘Oh, you know this place. There are always rumours.’ And he could get no more out of them than that. It was already two o’clock and he had an appointment in the community hall with assistant warden Ben Catchpole. He might get Tammy on his own later. He might talk with a few beers inside him.

  On the way south Perez thought about Angela. He hadn’t realized the reputation she’d gained on the island. His father would call her a scarlet woman. Perez had known her as a celebrity, someone the place was proud to acknowledge as a resident. This was another woman he couldn’t get a fix on. Sarah Fowler and Angela Moore: two unfathomable women. He was losing his grip. He thought maybe he should speak to Angela’s family. They had no record of her mother’s whereabouts, but there was a father, who’d brought her up. He lived on his own in Wales. The local police had informed him of Angela’s death but Perez had no information about how he’d taken it. He wished he could have been there when the constable had knocked at the father’s door, but what would he have asked? Was your daughter always a sexual predator? He made a mental note to track down the Welsh officer who’d notified Angela’s father of her murder.

  Ben Catchpole was waiting for Perez outside the hall. Perez saw the tall figure as he walked from the road. It was playtime in the school and the children were playing in the yard; a couple of the girls were swinging a long rope for the others to jump over. Perez waved to the individuals that he recognized. They giggled and waved back.

  Inside the hall, he set the tape recorder on the table and asked if Ben had any objections. The man shook his head. Then Perez realized he was terrified, so scared that he was almost frozen and could hardly speak.

  ‘How long have you been working at the North Light?’ Factual, unthreatening.

  ‘This is my third season.’

  ‘Isn’t that unusual?’ In Perez’s experience most of the assistant wardens just stayed for one year. He looked at Ben’s statement. Although he looked so young he was nearly thirty. ‘I mean, it’s only seasonal employment. Aren’t you looking for something more permanent?

  ‘You think I should be settling down, Inspector?’

  Perez didn’t answer and after a pause Ben continued: ‘I grew up in a weird kind of family. I mean it didn’t seem weird when I was growing up, but it was different from other kids’. My mum was one of the Greenham women and she couldn’t settle to domesticity when she left the Common. There was always a battle to fight, strangers coming to stay, discussions into the night about politics and justice and the environment. I suppose for me communal living seems kind of normal.’

  ‘I’ve checked your criminal record. You were found guilty of criminal damage. Lucky not to get a custodial sentence, according to the notes. That was here on Shetland?’

  Ben must have been expecting the question, but still he hesitated before answering. ‘It was the anniversary of the Braer disaster. You know, the tanker that went aground at Quendale, leaving a slick of oil miles wide?’

  Perez nodded. The disaster had made national news for weeks. Shetlanders had made a fortune out of the visiting media.

  ‘Nothing had changed! I mean, still people don’t take environmental issues seriously. I broke into the terminal at Sullom Voe.’

  ‘And did thousands of pounds’ worth of damage to oil company property.’ Perez had been working in the south at the time, but the Shetland police had still been talking about it when he joined the service there.

  ‘How much damage did they do to Shetland wildlife?’ Ben sat back in his chair, not really expecting an answer. ‘My mother came to court. She’d never been so proud of me.’ Perez couldn’t tell what he made of that. Would he have preferred a more conventional mother?

  Perez slid Ben’s written statement across the table.

  ‘Is there anything you’d like to add to this?’ Perez asked.

  ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

  ‘I think you were close to Angela. She was more than just your boss, wasn’t she? Yet you don’t mention that in the statement.’ For a moment Ben just stared at Perez and it seemed he would maintain the poise, the pretence at confidence. Then he seemed to lose control of the muscles in his face. It crumpled. He screwed up his mouth and frowned like a child trying not to cry. Perez went on. ‘Why don’t you tell me about it?’

  ‘I can’t stop thinking about it,’ Ben said. ‘Finding her in the bird room. At first I thought she’d fallen asleep there. She worked so hard that sometimes that happened. I’d go into the bird room before starting the morning trap round and find her still in front of the computer. I haven’t been able to sleep since she died.’

  ‘That isn’t quite what I asked you.’ But Perez saw now that Ben would talk to him. The strain had come through pretending he didn’t care too much what had happened to the woman. ‘Tell me about your relationship with Angela.’

  ‘I worshipped her.’

  And suddenly Perez saw himself as a schoolboy, intense and passionate, following his German student around the island, declaring his devotion. ‘What did Angela make of that?’

  ‘I expect she thought I was pathetic, ridiculous, but I didn’t care.’

  ‘Did she say you were pathetic?’

  ‘No, she called m
e sweet.’ Ben spat out the word.

  ‘You had sex with her?’

  Ben flushed suddenly and dramatically. ‘Yes!’ Then, forcing himself to be honest: ‘Though not so often recently.’

  ‘She had sex with other men in the field centre too. And not just in the centre. Visitors, islanders even.’

  The assistant warden didn’t answer.

  ‘How did that make you feel?’

  ‘I didn’t have the right to feel anything,’ Ben said. He seemed to have composed himself. Perez thought he had been through the same argument in his head many times. ‘I didn’t own her, I couldn’t dictate how she behaved with other men.’

  ‘That’s very rational,’ Perez said.

  ‘I’m a scientist. I am rational.’

  Perez wanted to laugh out loud. There was nothing rational in this infatuation.

  ‘When did it start?’

  There was a beat of hesitation. ‘My first season. I couldn’t believe it. I’d never met anyone like her.’

  ‘You hadn’t met her before you started work at the field centre?’

  Ben stared directly at him. ‘No. Where would I have met her?’

  ‘Is she the reason you keep coming back?’

  ‘No!’

  ‘Where did you get together? It must have been hard in the lighthouse, with other staff and visitors about.’