Cold Earth

by Ann Cleeves

  Sandy remembered visiting the hotel and passing round an image of the dead woman the day after her death. He’d sensed some of the staff had recognized her. Perhaps she’d paid them to let her work there and to keep quiet about it. ‘So we definitely think she was working for Tom Rogerson?’

  ‘Well, they were certainly connected in some way. We’re pretty sure that Tom collected her from the Co-op that day, aren’t we? He must have known what she was up to.’

  There was a moment of silence broken by the wind outside. There was a sudden sharp shower and the rain was blown like gravel on the window, so hard that Sandy thought the glass might smash.

  ‘They must have kept in touch.’ Willow’s voice was as hard and sharp as the rain. ‘Rogerson and Alison. From that first meeting years ago, when Alison went missing and turned up in the Ravenswick Hotel. It’s the only explanation. And I can’t believe there’s no evidence of that. Even if she didn’t come back to see Rogerson, he must have gone south to meet her. There’ll be hotel receipts, plane, boat and train tickets. She’ll have talked to her family and friends about him.’ She looked round the table. ‘I’ve been onto the prison where Jono, her brother, is being held. Alison’s visited a few times. They lost touch for a while when he first went into the army, but there’s obviously been contact since then. Let’s get him on the phone and find out what he knows.’ She paused for breath. ‘I’ll get on to that.’

  Perez seemed about to speak, but she was still issuing her instructions. There seemed to be something different about her today too, but Sandy couldn’t quite work out what it was. Maybe she was slightly more distant with Perez. Perhaps they’d fallen out. ‘Jimmy and Sandy, you go north and visit the Sullom Hotel. Get a couple of guys on Rogerson’s list to talk to you. We know the oil and gas companies have a “one strike and you’re out” policy here in Shetland, so assure them that we’ll be discreet, as long as they come clean with us. If they tell us what was really going on, they won’t lose their jobs.’ She looked around the table. ‘Any questions?’

  Perez shook his head and Sandy followed.

  ‘Then head up to Sullom and bring back some evidence that Alison Teal and Tom Rogerson were working together. That’ll be a start. Without that, this whole theory crumbles to pieces.’

  Perez drove north towards Brae, with Sandy in the passenger seat beside him. Sandy had been looking forward to the time they’d have on their own together. It would be like old times, just the two of them, with Jimmy Perez talking through his ideas about the case and Sandy occasionally throwing in some notions of his own. But today Perez drove in silence. The rain and the wind made driving tricky, but even so, Perez still seemed in a world of his own. Sandy thought again that perhaps he and Willow had been arguing about the investigation before he’d arrived at the station that morning.

  Perez showed his warrant card at reception and asked to speak to the first man on the list. He was called Stephen Barnes, he was a civil engineer and his home address was in Carlisle.

  ‘I’m sorry, but he checked out this morning.’ The receptionist was bland and unmoved. His English was perfect, but there was a slight accent. ‘Most of the men on your list checked out on Monday, but he was delayed. A problem at work, I believe.’

  Sandy wondered if it was a coincidence that most of the men who were possible clients of Alison Teal had left the islands, once news of her death had been released. Jimmy Perez always said that he didn’t believe in coincidence.

  Now Jimmy was replying to the receptionist. He was just as polite, but there was a steely tone to his voice.

  ‘There are no flights from Scatsta this morning,’ Perez said. Most of the oil- and gas-related flights left from the airfield at Scatsta, very close to the terminals. ‘Not in this dreadful weather. I assume that Mr Barnes is still in the hotel.’

  The receptionist stared at the inspector for a moment. Perhaps he was considering the possibility of lying, but at the last moment he seemed to think better of it.

  ‘You’re quite right, sir. Mr Barnes has vacated his room, but he’s waiting with his colleagues in the lounge for news of his flight. The weather is forecast to clear briefly early this afternoon and there’s also the possibility of a coach to Sumburgh. Would you like me to fetch him for you?’

  ‘I’d like that very much.’ Perez gave a sudden smile. ‘And I’d like you to find a room for us to talk in private, and to arrange for a tray of coffee to be brought for us.’

  The receptionist remained impassive, but he gave a brief nod of his head.

  The room they used was a conference space with a huge oval table and twelve matching chairs. Perez sat at the end with a notebook in front of him, as if he was chairing a grand meeting. Even Sandy felt intimidated and he knew it was just a tactic, because Jimmy seldom took notes when he was interviewing; he relied on Sandy to do that.

  ‘Mr Barnes. Thank you for giving us your time.’ Perez had already offered coffee, which had been curtly declined.

  It seemed that Mr Barnes was a senior professional who wasn’t used to being summoned by the police. He was already put out because of the delay to his flight. ‘It’s our wedding anniversary,’ he’d said when he’d arrived in the room. An explanation perhaps for his bad temper. An excuse. ‘I’d planned something rather special for my wife.’

  ‘We’re very grateful for the delay, although I do see that it’s inconvenient for you. You might prove to be a very useful witness.’ Perez could have been a senior manager himself. Sandy was deeply impressed. ‘We’re investigating two murders. I’m sure you’ve seen the news.’

  Barnes muttered something about being too busy to watch television.

  ‘Your name appears, along with colleagues, on a list. You made a number of payments to a solicitor called Thomas Rogerson. We have evidence to suggest that Mr Rogerson could be charged with living off immoral earnings, were he still alive. You have committed no offence to date, although if you withhold information in such a serious investigation, you would of course be charged.’ Perez paused just long enough for Barnes to take in the implication of the words and then explained them anyway. ‘Your company operates a policy that states that an employee found guilty of any offence will be removed from the islands immediately and dismissed. You signed that contract.’ Another pause, after which the tone was more conciliatory. ‘Of course if you can help us with our enquiries, your company need know nothing about this line of investigation.’

  Perez drank coffee, reached out for a mass-produced biscuit and waited.

  Barnes was an intelligent man. It didn’t take him long to decide that it was in his interest to cooperate. ‘Tom Rogerson was a lying bastard,’ he said. ‘He told me that there would be no record.’

  ‘Why don’t we start at the beginning?’ Perez leaned forward. At the other end of the table Sandy turned the page of his notebook so that there was a clean sheet of paper in front of him and marvelled at Perez’s skill.

  It seemed that Stephen Barnes had met Tom Rogerson at a social function to celebrate the completion of one stage of the new terminal’s construction. They’d met at the town hall. There’d been speeches, warm fizzy wine and oatcakes with smoked salmon. Barnes had thought Tom was a good chap and when the solicitor had suggested they go back to his house for a ‘proper’ drink, he’d agreed.

  At this point in the story, Perez interrupted. ‘Was anyone else in the house? Tom’s wife, for example?’

  ‘Not his wife, no. I think his daughter was there when we arrived. A pretty young thing. But she soon said she had work to do and left us to it.’

  Perez nodded for Barnes to continue.

  ‘We’d had quite a lot to drink by then, and he brought out a selection of good malts. We were talking about our families, and Tom said he’d worked away in the past and how difficult that was and how wives didn’t always understand. He had this way of persuading you to confide in him.’ For the first time Barnes seemed embarrassed rather than simply resentful. ‘By the end of the evening I
’d given him a cheque.’

  ‘Can you be more specific, please? For the notes.’ Perez nodded briefly towards Sandy. ‘The cheque was payment for what service?’

  ‘It was an introduction fee. Tom Rogerson had promised to set me up with a woman.’ Barnes paused briefly. ‘The next day I told myself I’d simply been ripped off and nothing would come of it.’

  ‘But it did?’ There was curiosity in Perez’s voice, but no judgement.

  ‘Exactly a day later I received an email in my personal account, giving a time and a place for the meeting.’

  ‘When was this?’

  ‘About three months ago.’

  Sandy looked up at Perez and knew exactly what he was thinking. Alison Teal hadn’t been in Shetland three months ago, unless she’d made a trip for which they had no record. But Tain had been empty then and available for Rogerson’s use.

  ‘The name of the woman you were to meet, please?’

  ‘Elena.’

  ‘And the place?’

  ‘A small house in Ravenswick.’

  Sandy knew exactly what that meant. Barnes might not have known the name of the house, but they did. Tain. Once the home of an elderly spinster called Minnie Laurenson, left to an American publisher called Sandy Sechrest, and occasional residence of Craig Henderson and Alison Teal.

  ‘Did you keep the appointment with Elena?’ Perez asked.

  There was a pause. ‘I did.’ Barnes seemed about to justify or excuse his decision but thought better of it.

  ‘And was the encounter satisfactory?’

  Another pause. ‘It was.’

  ‘Could you describe Elena to me, please?’

  ‘She was tall and slender with very long and very straight fair hair. Small features. Is that enough?’ Barnes was starting to become resentful again and to bluster, but the description was enough for Sandy, who recognized the woman he’d seen with Tom Rogerson in the Scalloway Hotel on the evening of his Valentine’s treat with Louisa.

  Perez continued to ask Barnes questions, but the civil engineer had little other useful information. He was quite clear that he’d never met Alison Teal or anyone of her description. In the end they let him go. His colleagues were already boarding a coach to Sumburgh, where, it seemed, the storm was less ferocious.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Willow didn’t waste time thinking about what had happened at Jimmy Perez’s house the evening before. There would be opportunities for that later and, besides, perhaps nothing of any importance at all had happened. She might feel dizzy with hope – giddy, as she felt when she was at the top of a cliff looking down at the waves breaking below. But she knew it would be wise to limit her expectations. Perez had promised nothing. Today she had to focus on getting the information they needed from Alison Teal’s brother. Nothing else could be decided until the case was over.

  A local police officer had informed the man of his sister’s death. He’d gone along to the prison where Jono Teal was being held, with the probation officer who’d known Jono for some years. Willow talked to the probation officer first. Her name was Hazel Sharpe and she was middle-aged and tough, more cynical than most police officers Willow knew. Hazel gave the impression that nothing at all would shock her.

  ‘Tell me what you know about the family,’ Willow said.

  Much of the information Hazel passed on they’d gleaned previously, from interviews Alison had given at the height of her popularity. It seemed the actress hadn’t exaggerated the tough childhood; the feckless parents and the informal adoption by the grandparents on the Norfolk coast still formed a part of the story.

  ‘I have the impression that Alison was the golden girl,’ the probation officer said. ‘Perhaps she was an actress even then, becoming what was needed to survive, the sweet little girl that her grandparents doted on. Jono was trickier to handle. Not so bright and he hated school. I think they were all relieved when he left home and joined the army as soon as he could. I think he did OK in the forces. The discipline suited him and he made good friends. He only started getting into trouble when he left.’

  ‘Did he keep in touch with Alison?’

  ‘I think they saw each other when he was on leave. Jono was scarcely literate and I can’t imagine the woman I met as a great writer, so I doubt they kept in touch by letter. It was a long time ago, before everyone used Skype or Facebook. They seemed fond enough of each other, but when Jono was still in the army they were leading very different lives.’

  ‘So you met Alison?’ Willow thought this was an unexpected bonus.

  ‘Only once, and that was a bit later, soon after Jono left the army, when I was preparing his first presentence report. He’d been picked up that first time for shoplifting and he’d said he was homeless. The court wanted an address before they’d give him bail. Alison took him in. She’d already been written out of the TV drama then, but she still saw herself as a minor celebrity. She was living a very different life from her brother. There was a flat in a swanky bit of North London. A kitchen full of gadgets, but no food in the fridge. What my Nan would call “fur coat and no knickers” style.’

  ‘What did you make of her?’

  There was a pause. ‘It’s a long time ago and I did so many of those home visits, so it’s hard to remember details. She sticks in my mind because I’d liked that drama on the telly and I was a bit star-struck. That flat wasn’t the usual sort of place I visited through work. The first thing I noticed was that she was beautiful. Model-beautiful. More stunning than she looked on the screen. I visited in the morning and she’d just got up. No make-up and still in her dressing gown, but gorgeous all the same. And perhaps because of that I could see she might be a spoilt brat. But she’d put Jono up, hadn’t she? She didn’t have to do that. I thought she was alright.’

  ‘How long did Jono stay with her?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Hazel said. ‘That time he was let off with a fine, which I presume his sister paid, and I didn’t have any involvement until his next court appearance. By then he’d shacked up with a woman in Bermondsey, and Alison was out of the picture.’ The probation officer paused. ‘After that his route through the criminal justice system was pretty predictable. The woman left him and he drifted into stealing again. He met up with some thugs inside and they started giving him driving jobs when he came out. That was the closest he could get to the friendships he’d found in the army, I suppose. Now he’s serving a stretch for armed robbery. It’s bloody sad.’

  Willow was using Perez’s office to make the call and looked out of the window. The sea was churning and spray was blowing almost into the town. It was a long way from criminal London. ‘What’s Jono Teal like? As a man.’

  Hazel paused again. ‘A bit pathetic, by the time I knew him. Likeable enough and desperate to please, but he’s never really grown up. He just seems weak these days. It’s hard to think now that he was once a soldier and fit enough for active service.’

  ‘I was hoping to talk to him,’ Willow said. ‘I don’t know if he’s told you, but his sister was killed. Here in Shetland. We could use some up-to-date background. Only it’s a long way for me to do a visit.’

  ‘I’m sure he’d cooperate. He’s always been a model prisoner. It’s the outside, when he has to make his own decisions and take responsibility for himself, that he finds hard to cope with. Besides, he’s due a parole board soon.’ The woman seemed to be thinking how much effort she was willing to put into helping Willow. ‘We could see if the prison would let you use the video-link they have for court appearances.’

  ‘That would be wonderful. Time’s short, though. I’d like to get it set up for today.’

  The probation officer barked a short laugh. ‘Are you joking? Do you know how long anything takes these days? You need forms signed in triplicate to get a visit authorized.’ A pause. ‘But I’ll see if I can work a little miracle. Leave it with me, yeah? I know the assistant governor.’

  And so, two hours later, Willow was sitting in the ops room, sta
ring at a computer, and the shaky image of Alison Teal’s only surviving relative appeared on the screen.

  Jono was, as the probation officer had explained, likeable. Charming even, in a smarmy, desperate-to-please sort of way. He knew what was expected and first of all had to tell Willow how sad he was. ‘Alis was the only relative I had left. And now that’s been taken away from me too. Do you know when the funeral will be? Only they’ve said I might get a day-release to come along.’

  It was hard to believe he’d once been a soldier. He looked very skinny and grey in his prison denims and striped shirt. A middle-aged man’s face on a child’s body.

  Willow said they didn’t know when his sister’s body would be released, but he’d be kept informed. ‘When did you last see Alison?’

  ‘She came to see me sometimes. Not regular, like, but when she could. I’d always get a visiting order to her, just in case.’

  ‘So when did you last see her?’ Willow thought time must pass differently inside. Each day would be much the same as the last. She allowed him time to work things out in his head.

  But the answer came more quickly than she expected. ‘It was two months ago, to the day. I remember because they gave me the date for my parole hearing.’ The grief at his sister’s death left him for a moment. ‘They say I’ve got a good chance of getting it. And I’m not going to screw things up this time.’ He paused for a moment. ‘I’m her only relative, so everything will come to me, won’t it? She owned that flat, bought it when she was still on the telly, and it must be worth a fortune, the way prices are in London.’

  ‘I guess it depends whether or not she made a will.’ Willow thought this wasn’t something they’d explored. Had Rogerson been Alison’s lawyer, as well as her business partner? She rather hoped this thin man would inherit. Perhaps the security of a little money would help him turn his life around. She looked at him smiling out at her from the screen. And perhaps pigs might fly. ‘How did Alison seem when you last saw her?’