by Ann Cleeves
Willow tried to make sense of this. ‘So Rogerson had a secret account?’
‘That’s what it seems like.’ Now Sandy sounded excited rather than anxious. ‘Look at the list!’
Willow ran her eyes down the statement. She didn’t recognize the first names on the list and there was nothing obvious to connect them. The amounts paid into Rogerson’s account varied from a couple of hundred to several thousand pounds. There were often multiple payments from the same person. Some of the payers had Shetland-sounding names. There was a Tommy Jeromeson and a William Eunson, for example. Others were more obviously English, and a few sounded as if the people were from mainland Europe or the Middle East. ‘Have you got the account-holders addresses?’
‘Not yet. Apparently that’ll take extra authorization.’
‘I’ll try to sort it out.’
‘But look at these!’ Now Sandy was almost beside himself. He pointed a stubby finger at two of the names at the bottom of the list. One was Stuart Henderson. ‘That’s Craig Henderson’s father. You remember Craig. He was the guy who rented Tain from Sandy Sechrest.’
‘But we already knew that Rogerson worked for the Henderson holiday business. He’s the one with the fancy lodges, right?’ Willow didn’t want to discourage Sandy, but she thought his imagination was running away from him now. She’d always been dismissive of weird conspiracy theories. ‘It’s not surprising that he should be paying legal fees.’
‘This money comes from Stuart Henderson’s personal account, not the business. I’ve checked. And according to Rogerson’s office manager, none of these sums tally with any of the business invoices she’s ever sent out.’
Willow took a seat for the first time. She’d been hovering behind Sandy for long enough. ‘So what are you thinking here, Sandy? Bribery and corruption?’
‘A lot of people wondered how the Hendersons got planning permission for that tourist accommodation, and Rogerson was on the council.’ Sandy looked at her. He was begging her not to tell him he was a fool with an overactive imagination.
‘Well, it wouldn’t be the first time a politician’s been slipped a sweetener to clear the path of a development.’ Now Willow’s mind was racing. This opened up another strand to the investigation. A different set of motives and more suspects. ‘But there are more than a dozen names on this list. They can’t all have been involved in complex planning issues.’
‘I was wondering about blackmail,’ Sandy said. ‘Rogerson was known as a sociable kind of a guy. He’d hear gossip. Some of it related to council business, some to the development at Sullom Voe. Some personal. Maybe he didn’t get the sweetener from Henderson, but he knew the person who did, or at least guessed that something dodgy had been going on.’
Willow nodded. She could see how that might make sense. ‘It seems risky, though. According to Jimmy, Rogerson enjoyed being Mr Popular on Shetland Islands Council. Why would he put all that in danger?’
‘He needed the cash,’ Sandy said. ‘If you look at both his other accounts, he went right up to the overdraft limit each month. It was only transfers from the secret account that kept him solvent.’
‘I wonder if his wife knew.’ Willow thought that a woman who could tolerate a string of embarrassing infidelities probably wouldn’t ask too many questions about regular payments into her husband’s current account. ‘You’ve done some brilliant work here, Sandy.’
‘But Stuart Henderson’s not the only man linked to Alison Teal and Tom Rogerson to be on the list.’ Sandy was flushed with pleasure. He leaned across her and pointed to the last highlighted entry. ‘Have you seen this? He moved his finger so that she could read the name. ‘Kevin Hay.’
Willow wanted to consult Perez before she decided how they should play an interview with Kevin Hay. She wondered if Simon Agnew had been discreetly pointing her in his direction. But she wanted some action. She couldn’t spend the rest of the morning talking to bank managers and studying spreadsheets while she waited for Perez to come out of his meeting. She asked Sandy for the way to the Rogerson house and walked out into the sunshine.
The house was solid and grey with an enclosed garden in the front. A neatly trimmed hedge and shrubs with orange berries. Strangely suburban for Shetland. She knocked at the door and a small, bustling woman opened it. ‘Mrs Rogerson?’
The woman narrowed her eyes. ‘Who wants to know?’
‘Willow Reeves. Police Scotland.’
The woman looked sceptical. Willow supposed she wasn’t most people’s idea of a police officer. She pulled out her warrant card.
‘Only you can’t be too careful.’ The woman’s voice was sing-song Orkney. ‘That Reg Gilbert from The Shetland Times was here earlier, weaselling for an interview with Mavis.’
‘You’re not Mrs Rogerson?’
‘I’m her sister. Joan.’
‘Could I speak to her?’ Willow inched towards the open door. They were still on the step.
‘She’s not here. It’s her day for the Red Cross shop and she insisted on going. I told her nobody would expect it, but she said she’d rather be there. She was a bit hysterical when I tried to stop her, and I thought it was best to let her go for a couple of hours, if it made her feel better. Maybe the routine would be good for her.’ Joan stepped away from the door so that she could look back at the town-hall clock. ‘She’ll be finished in five minutes, if you want to wait. It’ll not take her long to walk up from the street.’
But Willow thanked her and headed away. She was in no mood for waiting.
She arrived at the charity shop just as Mavis Rogerson was leaving. The woman was like a more square and solid version of her sister. Despite the sun, she was wearing a heavy overcoat and sheepskin boots. Willow waited outside until Rogerson’s widow was on the street.
‘Mavis, my name’s Willow Reeves. I’m a detective from Inverness and I’m part of the investigation team working on your husband’s death. I wonder if I could ask you some questions.’
‘Do you want to come back to the house?’
‘We could do that if you like, or we could just have some coffee and chat.’ Willow wanted to keep this informal. ‘I don’t expect you’ve eaten much today. I hear the Peerie Shop Cafe does very good cake.’
Mavis gave a little smile. ‘Tom and I went there every Saturday morning when he was free. A little treat.’
‘We all need a little treat.’
The lunchtime rush at the cafe was over. A few people sat smoking on the chairs outside, but there was nobody upstairs. Willow sat Mavis there and went down to the counter to order. The woman was docile when Willow helped her out of her coat, as if she was grateful that someone else was taking charge. Willow ordered cappuccinos and lemon-drizzle cake for two. It had been a long time since the scrambled eggs in the guest house. She wondered fleetingly if there was any news of a baby.
‘I need to talk to you about Tom.’
Mavis nodded, but she hardly seemed to hear what Willow was saying.
‘We’re looking for reasons why someone should want to kill him.’ The detective fell silent while a young waitress brought their order; then she continued. ‘We’ve been checking his bank accounts. It’s something we’d do routinely in a case like this. You do understand?’
Mavis nodded again. She seemed incapable of speech, but had cut through the lemon cake and put a large piece into her mouth. Willow understood that. Shock made her hungry too.
‘Did Tom ever talk to you about money?’
‘He was never good with his finances.’ The cake seemed to have brought Mavis to life. ‘He was a good earner, but there was never any cash to spare.’ She paused and then felt the need to explain. ‘He always needed to be liked. It was a kind of compulsion with him. It didn’t always come naturally, though, and sometimes he had to buy his friendships. With gifts. Loans that were never repaid. If ever we went out for a meal with another couple, Tom insisted on picking up the bill. In the end folk came to expect it.’
This time Willo
w nodded to show that she understood. Mavis took another bite of cake.
‘There are some unexplained payments into your husband’s account,’ Willow said. ‘Can you think what they might be? Perhaps they came from people paying back earlier loans.’
Mavis considered. ‘I don’t think that’s likely. Like I said, Tom was always the one who coughed up. Nobody felt the need to pay back.’
‘Could Tom have been doing some legal work that wasn’t going through the company’s books?’
Mavis shook her head. ‘Paul Taylor was a junior partner,’ she said. ‘Tom liked him. He wouldn’t have tried to defraud him.’
‘That wasn’t what I meant. I’m trying to explain these payments.’
But Mavis seemed to have lost concentration again. Willow hadn’t touched her cake and Mavis was staring hungrily at it.
Willow swapped plates, so the cake was in front of Mavis. ‘You’ll be doing me a favour. I’m supposed to be going out for a late lunch. It’ll only spoil my appetite.’
Chapter Thirty
The meeting with the Fiscal took longer than Perez had thought and he expected Willow to have gone for lunch without him. But when he hurried into the ops room, she was still waiting for him.
‘I have a lot of news. Mostly down to Sandy’s persistence and hard work.’ She’d swept her wild hair to one side so that he could see the bare skin of her neck on the other.
Perez looked away. ‘Have you eaten?’
She shook her head. ‘I ordered lemon cake in the Peerie Shop Cafe, but I sacrificed it to a greater good. I’m starving.’
He tried to think of a good place to take her to eat, but in the end they bought fish and chips and ate them out of the wind in the shelter of the Garrison, hidden from view in a corner between two grey walls. He put his jacket down so they could sit on the grass and felt suddenly that he was in one of the dens that he’d built when he was a bairn. There was the same sense of being hidden away from the rest of the world. ‘Shall I start?’
‘Why not, Inspector?’ She was licking the grease from her fingers, rolled the paper into a ball and carefully put it into her pocket.
‘Did Sandy tell you his contact recognized two men who were in Mareel the night Alison was there?’
Willow shook her head. ‘He was too distracted by the information that came in later.’
‘Alison was having a drink with Rogerson’s partner, Paul Taylor, but Kevin Hay was in the building too. Sandy and I chatted to Taylor in his office.’
‘And?’ A gust of wind blew a strand of Willow’s hair across her face.
‘Taylor claims it was a chance meeting with Alison in Mareel. He was there because he’d had a bad day at the office, and she was lonely and looking for a sympathetic ear.’
‘Sounds like a weird coincidence,’ Willow said. ‘Do you believe him?’
Perez thought about that while he watched the herring gulls in the clear sky above them. ‘I think I do.’
He listened while Willow described her conversation with Simon Agnew in Ravenswick. ‘He wasn’t giving away much about the Hays, but I had the impression he thought the relationship wasn’t as perfect as they liked to make out.’
‘So it could be relevant that Kevin Hay was in Mareel at the same time as Alison?’
‘You think he might have been following her?’ Willow said. ‘Stalking even?’
‘I don’t think we have enough information even to make a guess.’
‘Could Alison have had a relationship with Kevin when she ran away to Shetland fifteen years ago? We’ve assumed that the letter in Tain was written by Rogerson, but we haven’t had confirmation back on the handwriting yet.’
Perez considered. ‘The Hays were living in Gilsetter then. Two small bairns, and Jane was still drinking. It wouldn’t have been an easy time. You can see how he might have fallen for an attractive stranger staying in the hotel.’
‘Why don’t you talk to him, Jimmy?’ Willow leaned forward and again he could see the skin on her neck. There was a light scattering of freckles. ‘He might open up more to a man.’
‘Cassie’s father’s back in Shetland today.’ Duncan Hunter was Cassie’s natural father and he’d been away from the islands for some weeks. ‘She was going to stay with him tonight anyway. I’ll call down to the Hays this evening and see if I can talk to Kevin on his own.’
‘Find out why he was paying money into Tom Rogerson’s secret bank account!’
‘He was what?’
‘I got authorization to get information on Rogerson’s accounts. Sandy had all the statements when I got back from Ravenswick this morning.’ Willow explained in detail what they’d discovered. ‘I chatted to Mavis Rogerson, but she claims to know nothing about the payments. Any idea what might have been going on? Sandy’s theory is council corruption, but I’m not quite sure what Hay might have to gain from that.’
‘It sounds more like blackmail.’ Perez thought this shifted the whole perspective on the case. Money was a motive he could understand. ‘If Rogerson had found out that Hay and Alison were lovers, and threatened to tell Jane.’ He imagined how that would have been for Kevin. The woman living just across the field from him in Tain – had he become obsessed by her, only to find out she was part of some sort of extortion scam with Rogerson?
‘It’s another reason for chatting to Kevin Hay.’ Willow stood up and shook a few scraps of food from her clothes. She reached down and gave a hand to Perez to help him up. ‘Shall I come along to your place later, Jimmy? I’d be interested in finding out what Hay says.’
He hesitated for a moment. Willow knew Cassie wouldn’t be in the house. ‘Would you like me cook for you? Nothing grand, though. A late supper.’
There was a moment of silence that made the question seem more significant than he’d intended.
‘Don’t go to any trouble, Jimmy,’ she said at last. ‘You know me, I’m a simple girl. ‘Some bread and cheese will suit me fine.’
Duncan Hunter turned up at Perez’s home in the early evening with a tanned face and an armful of gifts for his daughter. ‘Leave these here and open them later,’ he said to Cassie. ‘There are plenty more at our house.’ His house was the Haa, the crumbling heap he shared with his older woman, Celia. Sometimes. The relationship was tempestuous and Fran had bequeathed her daughter to Perez, not to Duncan. A kind of gift from the grave.
Cassie went off happily enough, though, and Perez was pleased to have the house to himself. On impulse he changed the sheets on his bed and cleaned the sink in the bathroom. Then he made himself tea and beans on toast, washed all the dishes and wiped down the draining board. He’d got in good bread and a variety of cheese, a stalk of grapes and some watercress. He laid the fire, so it would be ready to light when he got in.
Just as he got to the turn-off to the Hays’ place, a car pulled out onto the main road and drove off towards Lerwick. It was quite dark by now and he couldn’t tell whether the vehicle was driven by Jane or Kevin. Perez went on down to the house. There was a light in two of the upstairs windows. He supposed at least one of the boys must be at home. He got out of the car. Kevin must have heard the engine noise, because the door opened and he was standing there silhouetted. ‘Jimmy. This is kind of late for an official call.’
‘If it was official, I’d be calling you into the station.’ Perez kept his voice light and easy. He didn’t want the words to sound like a threat. ‘This is just a chat.’ Kevin stood aside to let him in. ‘Are you on your own?’
‘Jane’s at a meeting in town and Andy’s working in Mareel. Michael’s upstairs, but he won’t disturb us. Once he’s plugged into his computer he’s in a different universe.’ Kevin was wearing thick knitted socks and he padded ahead of Perez into the kitchen. There was a lingering smell of cooked food, but everything was tidy. ‘Will you take some coffee, Jimmy? Or a beer, if this is unofficial?’
‘Coffee would be great.’ Perez smiled to recognize that Kevin had almost cracked a joke.
Kevi
n Hay switched on the kettle and spooned instant into mugs. It seemed Perez didn’t deserve the effort of the good stuff. ‘What’s this about?’ He was quite serious now.
‘A couple of things. I’m sure you’ll clear them up in no time.’ Perez waited until Kevin was sitting at the table with him. ‘You paid some money into Tom Rogerson’s business account. Could you tell me what that was for?’
The man didn’t respond immediately. Perhaps he’d been expecting a question of the sort, because although it made him uncomfortable he wasn’t completely surprised. But he wasn’t a habitual liar and his answer was tentative and unconvincing. ‘Rogerson was my lawyer,’ he said at last. ‘We did business from time to time.’
‘Could you show me the invoices from Rogerson and Taylor?’
‘Not now, Jimmy. It would take me some time to find them, and anyway Jane looks after the admin side of things.’ He turned away and wouldn’t meet Perez’s eyes.
‘Only we can’t find a record of any business dealings with the firm and that seems a bit odd.’ Perez almost felt sorry for the man. He’d started to blush. ‘This would be confidential, Kevin, unless it had some bearing on Tom’s death. You’re not the only man to be paying sums into this secret account.’
There was a long silence. Kevin didn’t speak and he didn’t move.
‘Perhaps we’re talking blackmail here,’ Perez said. ‘That’s how it’s looking just now. If it was blackmail, you’d be a victim. An anonymous victim. But someone has to tell us what’s been going on. You do see that, don’t you, Kevin?’
‘It wasn’t blackmail.’ Now his voice was firm. ‘I’ve told you, there must be some mistake. An accounting error. There’s nothing sinister here. Nothing that can be related in any way to Rogerson’s death.’ Upstairs a door banged shut and Kevin’s voice grew more urgent. ‘That’ll be Michael. He’ll be coming down to fix himself a drink and a snack. I don’t want him worried. These sudden deaths have caused enough disturbance to our lives. It’s time for you to go, Jimmy. If you need to talk to me again, call me into the station. Like you said, that’s the proper way to have a conversation, if it’s official business.’ He was on his feet and almost shooed Perez towards the outside door as if he was a troublesome cat. That image made Perez think of another question.