by Ann Cleeves
Perez’s thoughts rushed back to the house by the shore, where he’d lived quite happily until Fran had swept him away to her home in Ravenswick, like flotsam on a big tide.
‘Grusche phoned Polly on her mobile and told her to go back to the boat club, where George would pick her up. That’s where George was, Sandy, when you went to visit Voxter. He wasn’t asleep in his room, but driving through the fog to do what his wife had told him. Half-asleep and more than half-drunk.’ A pause. ‘And by then Grusche thought she was invincible and that her only role in life was to protect her son.’
‘I’d wondered if Polly Gilmour was the killer,’ Sandy said. ‘She seemed so weird and distant most of the time. Spending her days reading old folk tales and legends. I thought it might have twisted her brain. It didn’t seem like a real job for a grown woman.’
‘Not like teaching, you mean?’ Willow gave an innocent smile, but Sandy blushed to the roots of his hair.
Perez grinned. Sandy got awkwardly to his feet. ‘I’m away home to my bed.’ He shambled out of the house without looking back. The house was quiet again.
‘What are your plans?’ Perez felt suddenly uncomfortable, with Willow lying almost at his feet. It was as if Sandy had left them alone on purpose, a tactless kind of match-making.
‘I’m booked on the first plane in the morning.’
There was an awkward silence and Willow broke it first.
‘When did you know, Jimmy, that Grusche was the killer?’
‘I didn’t know until I saw her in the kitchen at Voxter with her arm round Polly’s neck.’
‘But you suspected. You had a very good idea.’ It wasn’t a question.
‘Grusche was a kind of friend,’ Perez said. ‘She was always talking about her son, and there was nothing wrong in that. I thought it a splendid thing that she was so proud of him. Then, this time, the way she looked when she was speaking about him made me feel uncomfortable. It was as if she was living her life through her boy. She was too intense.’ And that’s a lesson for me, perhaps.
‘You could have talked to me, Jimmy. There was no need to wait until you were certain you were right. That’s what colleagues do. Share their uncertainties and their ideas. I don’t like feeling shut out.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Perez said. ‘I was trying to work it all out in my head. I didn’t want you to think I was a fool. All that stuff about ghosts was making me a peerie bit paranoid too . . .’
Willow got to her feet. He wondered if she was going to walk out on him, just as Sandy had done. Without looking back. Then she laughed. ‘Put the kettle on, Jimmy Perez. Let’s have some more coffee and another dram. We’re at the end of this investigation and we’ve plenty to celebrate.’
Chapter Forty-Seven
The next morning Perez and Cassie gave Willow a lift to Sumburgh. They dropped her at the airport and she swung her bag out of the boot and walked away with just a little wave. Cassie jumped into the front seat beside Jimmy, because it was only a short drive from there to the pier at Grutness, where the Good Shepherd would arrive from Fair Isle. Perez had slept well and felt rested and oddly calm, better than he had since Fran’s death. He and Cassie climbed the low headland together and watched the boat approaching from the south.
They were the only passengers. The Shepherd had a reputation for making folk seasick and most visitors into the Isle chose to fly these days. But there were provisions for the shop to load and some equipment for the bird observatory. Perez helped the crew and Cassie waited, very serious and a little apart, until his father, the skipper, called her aboard.
‘Will you come into the wheelhouse with me and Jimmy, lass? We’ve only had one female crew member before, and I’m thinking that it’s about time that we had another. And this is a bit special, isn’t it?’
So she stood between them and watched the misty outline of Fair Isle become clearer, until they could make out the North Lighthouse and the wedge of Sheep Craig. James told her what he was doing and the hours passed very quickly. Then they were so close to the cliffs that they could make out individual kittiwakes and razorbills and they rounded the headland into the North Haven. And the whole island was there to meet them.
By Ann Cleeves
A Bird in the Hand Come Death and High Water
Murder in Paradise A Prey to Murder
A Lesson in Dying Murder in My Back Yard
A Day in the Death of Dorothea Cassidy
Another Man’s Poison Killjoy
The Mill on the Shore Sea Fever
The Healers High Island Blues
The Baby-Snatcher The Sleeping and the Dead
Burial of Ghosts
Vera Stanhope series
The Crow Trap Telling Tales Hidden Depths
Silent Voices The Glass Room Harbour Street
The Shetland series
Raven Black White Nights Red Bones
Blue Lightning Dead Water Thin Air
First published 2014 by Macmillan
This electronic edition published 2014 by Macmillan
an imprint of Pan Macmillan, a division of Macmillan Publishers Limited
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ISBN 978-0-230-76813-0
Copyright © Ann Cleeves 2014
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Table of Contents
Title page
Dedication page
Contents
Acknowledgements
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
By Ann Cleeves
Copyright page