by Ann Cleeves
Perez must have asked her another question, because he was looking at her, obviously waiting for an answer.
'I'm sorry: she said. 'I don't know what's wrong with me!
'Shock. It'll pass! He looked at her, as she might once have looked at a model during a photo shoot. Appraising, dispassionate. 'Come on. Let's get you home!
He knew where she lived, drove her there without asking, took her keys and opened the door for her. 'Would you like tea?' she said. 'Coffee?'
'Coffee’: he said. 'Why not?'
'Shouldn't you be down there, looking at the body?' He smiled. 'I'd not be allowed anywhere near it. Not until the crime scene investigator is finished. We can't have more people than necessary contaminating the site!
'Has someone told Euan?' she asked.
'That's the girl's father?'
'Yes, Euan Ross. He's a teacher:
'They're doing that now.'
She moved the kettle on to the hotplate and spooned coffee into a cafetiere.
'Did you know her?' he asked.
'Catherine? She came occasionally to look after Cassie when I went out. It didn't happen often. There was a lecture in the town hall by a visiting author I enjoy. A PTA meeting at the school.
Once, Euan invited me down to his house for a meal.'
'You were friendly? You and Mr Ross?'
'Neighbourly, that's all.
Single parents often stick together. His wife had died. Cancer. She was ill for a couple of years and after her death he felt he needed a change. He'd been headmaster of a big inner-city school in Yorkshire, saw the job here advertised and applied on a whim:
'What did Catherine think about that? It would be a bit of a culture shock:
'I'm not sure. Girls that age, it's hard to tell what they're thinking:
'What age was she?'
'Sixteen. Nearly seventeen:
'And you?' he asked. 'What brought you back?' The question made her angry. How could he know that she'd lived here before?
'Is that relevant?' she demanded. 'To your enquiries?'
'You found a body. The body of a murder victim. You'll have to answer questions. Even personal questions which seem to have no relevance: He gave a little shrug to show that it was part of the system, beyond his control. 'Besides, your husband, he's a big man round here. People gossip. You can't have expected that you could slip back to Shetland unnoticed:
'He's not my husband,' she snapped. 'We divorced:
'Why did you come back?' he asked. He was sitting in the chair by the window, his crossed legs stretched in front of him. He'd taken off his boots at the door. His socks were made of thick white wool and were bobbled from washing. His jacket was hanging on the hook on the wall, next to one of Cassie's and he was wearing a crumpled red plaid shirt. He leaned back in his chair, a mug in his hand, looking out. He seemed entirely relaxed. She itched to get a large sheet of paper and a stick of charcoal to sketch him.
'I love it here,' she said. 'Because I stopped loving Duncan, it seemed contrary to deprive myself of the place. And it means that Cassie can maintain contact with her father. I enjoyed London, but it isn't a good place to bring up a child. I sold my flat there and that gave me enough to live for a while: She didn't want to tell him about her painting, the dream that it could support them, the failed relationship which had triggered the move. How she'd grown up without a father and hadn't wanted to do that to her daughter.
'Will you stay?'
'Yes,' she said. 'I think I will:
'What about Euan Ross? Has he settled?'
'I think he still finds it hard, coping without his wife:
'In what way?'
She struggled to find the words to describe the man. 'I don't know him well. It's hard to judge: 'But?'
'I think he might still be depressed. I mean, clinically depressed. He thought the move would change things, solve things. How could it, really? He's still without the woman he was married to for twenty years! She paused. Perez looked at her, expecting her to continue. 'He called in the day I arrived to introduce himself. He was very kind, charming. He brought coffee and milk, some flowers from his garden. He said we were almost neighbours.
Not quite, with Hillhead in the way, but he lived down the hill between here and the school. I'd never have realized on that first meeting that anything was wrong, that there was any sadness at all in his life. He's a very good actor. He hides his feelings very well. When he saw Cassie, he said he had a daughter too, Catherine. If ever I needed a babysitter she was always desperate for cash. That was it. He didn't mention his wife at all. Catherine told me about that, the first time she came to look after Cassie.
'When he invited me for a meal, I wasn't sure what to expect. I mean, a single woman of my age, sometimes men hit on you, think you're desperate, try it on. You know what I mean. I hadn't picked up any of those signals, but sometimes you get it wrong!
'You went anyway, even though you were unsure of his motives?'
'Yeah,' she said. 'I don't have much of a life, you know. Sometimes I miss adult company. And I thought, anyway, would it be so awful? He's an attractive man, pleasant, unattached. There aren't so many of those around here!
'Was it a good night?' He smiled at her, in an encouraging, slightly teasing way. The style was fatherly, almost, though there could scarcely be any difference in their ages.
'To start with. He'd gone to a lot of effort. It's a lovely house. Do you know it? There's that new extension, all wood and glass, with wonderful views down the coast. Lots of photos of his dead wife. I mean they were everywhere, which seemed a bit spooky. I wondered what it must be like for Catherine, growing up with that. I mean, would you think you were second best, that he wished you had died instead of your mother? But then I thought everyone deals with grief in their own way. What right did I have to judge?
'We sat down to eat almost immediately. The food was mind-blowing, I mean as good as any I've had anywhere. We managed to keep the conversation going OK. I told him the story of my divorce. Kept it light and amusing. I've had plenty of practice. Pride. It's hard to admit to the world that your husband has fallen passionately in love with a woman who's almost old enough to be your mother. Plenty there to joke about. He was drinking quite heavily, but then so was I. We were both rather nervous!
She could see the scene quite clearly in her head. Although it had been dark outside he hadn't drawn the blinds, so it was as if they were a part of the night-time landscape, as if the table was set on the cliff. The room was softly lit by candles; one lamp shone on a big photograph of the dead woman, so Fran had almost believed that she was present at the meal too.
Everything was slightly elaborate - the heavy cutlery, engraved glasses, starched napkins, expensive wine. And then he started to weep. Tears ran down his cheeks. It had been silent at first. She hadn't known how to react so she'd continued eating. The food after all was very good. She'd thought that given a little time, he might pull himself together. But then he began to sob, embarrassing, choking sobs, wiping the snot and the tears on one of the pristine napkins, and pretence had been impossible. She'd got up and put her arms around him, as she might have done if Cassie had woken suddenly from a bad dream.
'He couldn't hack it,' she told the detective now. 'He broke down. He wasn't ready for entertaining.' The enormity of the tragedy of Catherine's death suddenly hit her. 'Oh God, and now he's lost his daughter too.' It'll push him over the edge, she thought. No one will be able to save him now.
'How did they get on?' Perez asked. 'Did you have any sense of tension, friction? It must be hard for a man bringing up a teenage girl. Just the wrong age. They're rebellious then anyway. And they hate being different.'
'I don't think they ever argued,' Fran said. 'I can't imagine it. He was so wrapped up in his own grief that I think he just let her get on with things. I don't mean he neglected her. Not that. I'm sure they were very fond of each other.
But I can't see him making a big deal over the clothes she
wore or the time she went to bed or whether or not she'd done her homework. He had other preoccupations.'
'Did she talk to you about him?'
'No. We didn't talk about anything important. I probably seemed as old as the hills to her. She always seemed very self-contained to me, but then I think most young people are like that. They never confide in adults.'
'When did you last see her?'
'To talk to? New Year's Eve, in the afternoon. I'd left a message on her mobile. There's a concert I'd like to go to in a couple of weeks' time. I asked if she'd be able to babysit. She called in to say that would be fine.'
'How did she seem?'
'Well. As animated as I'd known her. Quite forthcoming. She said she was going into Lerwick with her friend that evening to see in the new year.'
'Which friend?'
'She didn't say, but I presumed it would be Sally Henry. She lives at the school. They seem to knock around together.'
'And that was the last time you saw her?'
'To speak to , yes. But I did see her yesterday. She got off the lunchtime bus. She walked down the road with the strange old guy who lives in Hillhead.'
Chapter Seven
The police came to Magnus at the only moment that day when he wasn't looking out for them. He was in the bathroom when they knocked at the door. His mother had got Georgie Sanderson to build a bathroom at the back of the house. It was when Georgie's leg was so bad that he couldn't go to the fishing any more. A sort of favour, because he hated being idle and she would pay him for the work. Georgie was a practical kind of a man, but there would have been better people to ask. The bath had never fitted properly against the wall. The light had fused soon after Magnus's mother died and Magnus had never bothered getting it fixed. What would be the point? He shaved in the sink by the kitchen and he could see the toilet from the light in the bedroom.
He'd been aware for some time of the need to relieve himself, but he'd not been able to leave his post at the window.
More people had arrived. Constables in uniform. A tall man in a suit. An untidy chap had gone up to the young woman sitting in Henry's Land Rover and taken her away in his car.
Magnus hoped she wasn't in the room with the shiny walls in the police station. At last he hadn't been able to put off the visit to the bathroom any longer, and it was at that moment, when he was standing there, like a peerie boy, with his trousers and his pants round his ankles, because he'd been in too much of a hurry to fiddle with zips and flies, that the knock came. He was thrown into a panic.
'Just wait,' he shouted. He was in midstream. There was nothing he could do about it. 'I'll be there in just a minute.'
He finished at last and pulled on his pants and his trousers all in one go. The trousers had an elasticated waist. Now that he was decent again the panic began to subside.
When Magnus went back to the kitchen the man was still waiting outside. Magnus could see him through the window. He was standing quite patiently. He hadn't even opened the door into the porch. It was the scruffy-looking man who had driven away the young woman. He couldn't have taken her all the way into Lerwick then. Maybe just up to the house by the chapel. Magnus thought the police probably dealt differently with women.
Magnus opened the door and stared at the man. He didn't know him. He didn't live round here. He didn't look like anyone Magnus knew, so he probably didn't have relatives round here either.
'Whar's du fae?' he demanded. It was what came into his head. If he'd thought about it, he'd have used different words, as he had with the girls, so if this stranger had come from the south he would have understood. But it seemed he understood anyway.
'Fae Fair Isle: the man said, echoing the rhythm of Magnus's words. Then, after a beat, 'Originally. I trained in Aberdeen and now I'm working out of Lerwick.' He held out his hand. 'My name's Perez.'
'That's a strange kind of name for a Fair Isle man! Perez smiled but he didn't explain. Still Magnus didn't take the hand. The old man was thinking he'd never been to Fair Isle. There was no roll-on roll-off ferry even now.
The trip took three hours in the mail boat from Grutness, the harbour in the south close to the airport. He'd seen pictures once of the island. It had a big craig on its east side.
The minister who'd lived in that house next to the chapel had been preacher on Fair Isle. There'd been a slide show in the community hall and Magnus had gone with his mother. But he couldn't remember any more details.
'What like is it there?' he asked.
'I like it fine!
'Why did you leave then?'
'Oh you know. There's not an awful lot of work! Magnus saw the hand then and reached out and shook it.
'You'd best come in; he said. He looked past Perez down the bank and saw a constable in uniform staring up at him.
'Come away in; he said, more urgently.
Perez had to stoop to get through the door and once he was inside the room, he seemed to fill it.
'Sit down; Magnus said. It made him nervous, seeing this tall man towering over him. He pulled out a chair from the table and waited for Perez to take it. He'd been expecting the police to come to his house all morning and now he didn't know what to say. He didn't know what to think.
'Sit down! It was the raven. It stuck its beak through the bars of the cage and repeated the words, running them into each other. 'Sitdownsitdownsitdownsit.'
Magnus took an old jersey and threw it over the cage. He was afraid the interruption would make the policeman angry. But Perez seemed only amused. 'Did you teach it to do that? I didn't know ravens could speak.'
'They're clever birds! Magnus could feel the smile appearing, could do nothing about it. He turned his head, hoping it would go away of its own free will.
'Did you see the ravens down the hill this morning?'
'They're always there; Magnus said.
'There's been a death. A young girl!
'Catherine! He couldn't help it. Like the daft grin, the words had come out despite his efforts to stop them.
Tell them nothing his mother had said. Her last words to him when the two policemen came to take him into Lerwick all that time ago. You've done nothing, so tell them nothing.
'How did you know she was dead, Magnus?' Perez was speaking very clearly and very slowly. 'How did you know it was Catherine who was on the hill?'
Magnus shook his head. Tell them nothing.
'Did you see what happened to her down there?
Did you see how she died?'
Magnus looked wildly around him.
'Perhaps you saw the ravens and wondered what had disturbed them!
'Yes; he said gratefully.
'And you went out to look?'
'Yes! Magnus nodded violently.
'Why didn't you tell the police, Magnus?'
'She was already dead. I couldn't have saved her! 'But the police should have been told!
'There's no phone in the house. How could I tell you?'
'One of your neighbours would have a phone. You could have asked them to call for you.'
'They don't speak to me.'
There was a silence. Underneath the jersey the raven scratched and scuffled.
'When did you see her?' Perez asked. 'What time was it when you went down the hill to look?'
'After the bairns had gone into school. I heard the bell as I left the house.' Magnus thought that was a clever answer.
His mother wouldn't have minded him telling that.
There was another pause while Perez wrote some words in a notebook. At last he looked up. 'How long have you lived here on your own, Magnus?'
'Since my mother died.'
'When was that?'
Magnus tried to find an answer. How many years would it have been? He couldn't guess.
'Agnes died too,' he said, so he wouldn't have to
work out the number of years in his head.
'Who was Agnes?'
'She was my sister. She caught the whooping cough. It was more bad than a
nyone realized. She was ten.'
He shut his mouth tight. It was none of the policeman's business.
'It must have been lonely here, after your mother died.'
Magnus didn't answer.
'You'd be glad of some company.'
Still he said nothing.
'Catherine was a friend of yours, wasn't she?'
'Yes,' Magnus said. 'A friend.'
'You met her yesterday on the bus from town.' 'She'd been to a party.'
'A party?' Perez said. 'All night? Are you sure?' Had she? That was right, wasn't it? Magnus had to think about it. He couldn't remember. She hadn't said much at all.
'She looked tired,' he said. 'She'd stayed out all night. I think she said it was a party.'
'How was she dressed?'
'Not in fancy clothes,' Magnus admitted, 'but then they don't dress up much for going out these days.'
'When you went out to look at her on the hill you'd have seen what she was wearing. Had she changed since you saw her yesterday?'
'I don't think so.' Then he wondered if he should have given a different answer, if the question had been a trick. 'I remember the red scarf.'
'Did she tell you where the party was?'
'She didn't say. She didn't notice me then. Only later when we both got off the bus together.'
'How did she seem?' Perez asked.
'Tired, I said.'
'But sad tired or happy tired?'
'She came into the house,' Magnus said suddenly.
'For tea.'
There was a silence. Magnus knew he'd made a mistake. He continued quickly, 'She wanted to take my photo. For a project. She wanted to come.'
'Did she take the photo?'
'She took several.'
'Had she been in the house before?' Perez asked.
He didn't seem troubled by what Magnus had told him. There was no fuss, no threat, no outrage.
'New Year's Eve. Catherine and Sally. They were on their way home. They saw the light and called in to wish me happy new year!