by Ann Cleeves
'But will you take me?'
'Aye, why not?'
She'd drunk _the lager quickly and it was stronger than she was used to. The movement of the boat disorientated her.
He fetched her another can. They talked. About his work, his family. Later she would remember him describing his mother. People don't understand her. It's all Hunter's fault. She's so soft she can't say no to him. And his father, though that wasn't like hearing about a real man.
More like some hero you'd read about in a book. But her mind wasn't engaged. She was aware of her body under her clothes, her tongue against her teeth , the skin of her feet against the undersole in her trainers. Everything held in, tied up. She bent down and unlaced the shoes. She kicked one off and prised off the other by pushing down its heel with her foot. She pulled off her socks and rolled them into a ball. There was a carpet on the floor with a rough texture, almost as hard as coconut matting. She flexed her feet against it. Robert, who had still been talking, about a gale which had blown up out of nothing when they were off Stavanger, fell silent. 'Sorry,' she said. 'It's a bit hot in here!
He bent down and took a foot in his hand, twisting her body as he did, so she was almost lying along the bench seat. He rubbed the sole of her foot with his thumb, as he had been playing with her hand in the car. She thought she might faint.
Later, she thought, Is this how it is for everyone? Is it the same for old people? She wondered about her father and mother, if they did occasionally get it together. Part of her thought it might be better for them, not so hurried and scrabbled. Her father would be more patient. Not quite so rough or demanding. But she dismissed that idea as disloyal and ridiculous. What could she expect for her first time? Robert was lying back and smoking a cigarette.
Now she would have liked him to speak, but he seemed lost somehow in his own thoughts. Perhaps all men were like that afterwards. She would have liked to ask, Was that all right? Did I do the right things? But she knew it was wiser to stay quiet.
At last she said, 'I should go back or I'll miss the bus! She had plenty of time but she was starving. Now she wasn't dreaming of sex, but Kit-Kats and crisps, maybe a bacon sandwich.
He roused himself slowly and she saw again what she'd found attractive in him. She watched his broad shoulders and the muscles in his arms and his back. It hadn't been a big mistake after all. In the lounge on the ferry she found herself smiling. He sat next to her with his wide hand on her leg and when he dropped her off at the school he kissed her. They still hadn't discussed what had happened.
It was too early for school to finish and she went to the shop on the corner and bought chocolate and a magazine. She turned straight to the problem page, but none of the letters there could help her.
On the bus on the way home her phone rang. She answered it immediately, certain that it would be Robert. He would say something sweet and reassuring. He would tell her how much he'd enjoyed being with her. But it was a woman's voice, unfamiliar at first.
'Sally? Is that you? Your mother gave me your number. I'm so sorry to disturb you. This is Fran Hunter. You know, from the house by the chapel!
Duncan Hunter's ex-wife, she wanted to say. But of course she didn't. How rude that would be!
'I wondered if you'd be able to babysit. I've been asked to teach a couple of evening classes at the college. The teacher's going to be off sick for a few weeks. Maybe you'd feel awkward, because Catherine used to . . . But your mother said to ask anyway. . ! The voice tailed off.
'No; Sally said quickly. 'Really, I'd be pleased to!
She was thinking it would be one way to meet Robert without her mother knowing. Risky, but better than being out in Lerwick with him. 'Any time!
Chapter Thirty
The Bruces arrived from Aberdeen on the same plane as Jane Meltham, the crime scene investigator. They looked small and bewildered as they walked across the tarmac from the plane, older than Perez had expected. He'd expected them to be the age they'd have been when Catriona died. That's how they were in his head. But of course they hadn't been preserved in the peat like her. You would never have thought they were coming home; they were more like refugees arriving in a strange country. The boy with them, Catriona's younger brother, was taller than they were. Roy Taylor took the family in one car and Perez drove Jane in another.
'Interesting stuff, peat,' she said as they passed the Sumburgh Hotel. 'What did the girl look like?'
'Undamaged,' he said. 'You'd have thought she'd been kept alive somewhere and buried only hours ago. There was a faint brownish tint to the skin and her hair had turned a kind of chestnut colour. That was all. She'd been wearing a cotton dress and that hadn't rotted at all'
It was impossible to shift the image of the girl from his mind. They'd cleared some of the mud from her face, knowing they shouldn't touch anything at the scene, but wanting to identify her, so there'd be some thing definite to tell the parents. After all these years of waiting it would be intolerable not to give them an identification. She'd been lying on her back. Her fair hair, filthy now, was arranged loosely around her face.
Had Magnus done that? Had he thought it looked prettier? Or had he wanted the ribbons for himself? Perez couldn't make sense of it. Was that the only reason he'd killed her?
The procurator fiscal had decided they had enough evidence to charge Magnus. For the murder of Catriona Bruce at least. And of course he was right. There were the ribbons. A confession of a sort, though after that first interview Magnus had stopped talking. He'd sat there with that nervous grin on his face, just shaking his head. Even in private discussion with his lawyer he'd said nothing, apparently.
They would get a conviction. Manslaughter perhaps because of diminished responsibility. There'd be medical reports to show he had a low IQ, possible brain damage, but Magnus Tait would certainly go to prison. He'd leave Shetland for the first time in his life to be locked away. That wasn't enough for Jimmy Perez. He wanted to know what had happened that day when Catriona had run up the track to visit Hillhead. He wanted to know what had prompted Magnus to stab her.
Because she had been stabbed. Even before the crime scene investigator's arrival they could tell that. The body was so well preserved that you could see the wound in the girl's chest, the fabric of the dress marked with rust-coloured stains. And more than anything, Perez wanted to know why, after eight years, Magnus had decided to kill again. Why Catherine Ross? Just because she'd wandered quite by chance into his house on New Year's Eve and he'd taken a fancy to her? Was it because of her name? If she'd been called Ruth or Rosemary, would he have left her alone? And why, this time, had he strangled?
Jane was talking about the bog bodies found by archaeologists. 'They were thousands of years old and still intact,' she said. 'It's hardly surprising you get the same result after eight years. Fascinating! He could tell she was itching to get to the scene and have a look. She hardly gave a glance at the magnificent coastal landscape passing the window.
He left her with the team on the hill and went back into Lerwick. He couldn't face the Incident Room, Sandy with his I-told-you-so smirk, the jubilation. They'd already be drinking probably, celebrating the arrest and the Inverness boys' imminent return to civilization. Both camps would be celebrating that. He needed. a sleep and a shower.
At home his answerphone was flashing. His mother of course. He'd not had a chance to phone her back on Sunday night. He was tempted to ring her now, without any more thought. Yes, I'm coming home. I'm fed up here.
Let the factor know I'm interested in Skerry. But he ignored it, stood mindlessly under the pathetic dribble of his shower, fell into bed and went immediately asleep.
When he woke it was late afternoon and dark outside. He didn't feel rested. He woke as he'd fallen asleep, troubled by the anxiety that was eating away at him. About Fran and Cassie. About Magnus. A fear that they'd cocked up the whole bloody case. The old man might have killed Catriona. But Catherine?
He checked the phone messages. A sort of
penance or punishment. There was one from his mother but it was short and apologetic. Sorry to bother you. I know you're busy. I don't mean to nag. That didn't make him feel any better.
The next was from Duncan Hunter. I've heard the news about Magnus Tait. Good work. I don't suppose this is relevant now, but I've remembered something about that party at the Haa. Give me a ring. I'll be in the office all day.
No number. As if he assumed everyone would know the number of Hunter Associates. That you couldn't possibly manage in Shetland without it.
Perez looked it up in the directory and dialled. A young woman said Mr Hunter was in a meeting and unavailable. Could she take a message? Perez could picture her. She'd be young and skinny, long red nails and thin red lips, a tiny skirt hardly covering her bum.
'I'm returning Mr Hunter's call: he said. 'Inspector Perez. He did say it was urgent!
'Just one minute!
There was a blast of music. Not the usual bland electronic noise for Hunter Associates. This was something contemporary with the sort of beat young people bounced to in nightclubs. Duncan had probably paid for it to be composed specially. It stopped as suddenly as it had started, mid-phrase.
'Jimmy. Thanks for getting back to me. Look, maybe you're not interested any more!
'I'm interested!
'I can't talk now. Let's meet later. Monty's. I'll buy you dinner. It'll be quiet on a Monday night. Around eight!
The line went dead before Perez had a chance to reply.
Monty's was probably the best place to eat in Lerwick. It was where the tourists went every evening once they found it, along with the expat English, who raved about the local produce to their friends. It was a bit pricy for the locals if it wasn't a special occasion. The room was small and the tables were close together, but as Duncan had said, a Monday night in January, it was quiet. He was already there when Perez arrived. He'd ordered a bottle of red and was one big glass in. When he saw Perez, he stood up and held out his hand.
'Congratulations!
'It's not all over yet.'
'That's not what folks are saying!
Perez shrugged. 'What did you have for me?'
Duncan was looking better than the last time they'd met, but not a whole lot better. He was shaved and smartly dressed and he'd had a haircut, but Perez thought he wasn't getting much sleep. He'd lost the old Hunter arrogance.
'I've been thinking about that party at the Haa! 'The one Catherine Ross came to?'
'Yes! There was a pause while the waitress took their order. 'Look, I was out of it, OK?'
'But you've remembered something?'
'You were asking about Robert. He didn't come with Catherine. He'd been there earlier, talking to Celia before anyone else turned up. I'm not sure what it was about. Family stuff I suppose. Pretty intense, at least-' He broke off suddenly. 'Perhaps he was persuading her to go home with him. He never liked me and he could always twist her round his little finger!
Perez looked at him, wondering what this was really all about. It had nothing to do with helping the police with their enquiries, that was for sure. Duncan wouldn't see the point. With him, there was always a hidden agenda. He could manipulate for Shetland.
'Catherine and Robert knew each other: Duncan said. 'I mean, when she walked in, you could tell!
'How?' Perez was losing patience.
'He was talking to Celia in the kitchen. She'd been putting together some food. That was where the drinks were.
So that was where I was. Catherine came in with a group of other people and Robert saw her. It was a shock.
He wasn't expecting it. He broke off his conversation with his mother and just stared at her. Like thunderstruck. Like there was no way she should have been there!
'Was he pleased to see her?'
'I think so. Pleased but a bit nervous perhaps.
Anxious!
'How did she react to him?'
'She didn't. She gave no sign that she knew him, not then. She poured herself a drink and started chatting to me.
Flirting, I suppose. She was one of those women who make you feel special. They can make you believe you're interesting, funny. Fran could never do that. She could never be bothered to make the effort. But Catherine, oh, she was very good!
'She was only sixteen!
'But sophisticated,' Duncan said. 'Experienced! And a virgin.
'Is that all you have to tell me? Hardly worth a dinner at Monty's!
'While she was flirting with me, she had one eye on Robert. I don't know why. I mean, I can't imagine for a minute that she fancied him. But at one point they disappeared together. At least, I think so. I mean, I'm pretty sure.
It was before Celia hit me with the news that she was leaving. But you know how it is with parties. Good parties, at least. You get into an interesting conversation and everything around you fades into the background. You hear the music but you're not really listening. You know there are other people there, but you're not aware of what they're doing. They're just bodies moving, dancing'
'Throwing up?'
'Not that early in the evening.' Duncan said crossly.
He paused. 'No need to take the piss, man. I'm trying to help. Honestly. There was one point when I noticed neither of them was there. I'd enjoyed the girl's company. OK, I was looking for her. I looked all over for her. She'd got to me somehow. She had style. And when I've thought about it since, I've realized Robert wasn't there either. I told you it might not be important.'
The waitress came with their food. Perez didn't recognize her, although she was about his age and she sounded local. He was preoccupied for a moment trying to place her. Duncan started eating immediately, sulking because Perez wasn't more grateful for the information.
'Where did they go?'
'I'm not sure. I didn't search the whole place. It wasn't that important.'
'But they were in the house?'
'For fuck's sake I don't know. Maybe they went for a drive. Had wild and passionate sex in the back of Robert's van. Only I don't see it. Like I said before, she was an attractive young woman. Robert's a thug. A spoilt mummy's boy. Good looking I suppose if you like the blond Viking type, but she was too bright to be taken in by that.'
And what are you? Perez thought. You're a bully.
It wasn't such a big deal, the event which had made him see Duncan in a different light. It might have happened anywhere. Here, where the web of relationships caught you and held you and wouldn't let you go, it was the sort of thing you had to deal with every day. Duncan had been speeding. Crazy speeds down the road from the north. Sandy Wilson had stopped him. He'd realized he'd been drinking and said he'd have to test him. But Sandy Wilson's dad worked for Duncan's company. He was a joiner, who could turn his hand to anything, and he worked on the renovations of the buildings Duncan bought.
Duncan threatened to sack the father if Sandy did him for drink driving. Perez wasn't sure he would have done it; good craftsmen were hard to come by. But Sandy believed him and Duncan got away with just a spot fine for speeding. Blackmail. Perez found out about it later. Sandy got drunk one night and blurted out the whole story.
Perez kept it to himself. Sandy was a pea-brained bigot, but he didn't deserve to be dumped on. And anyway Perez owed Duncan, didn't he? He'd saved his life when they were at school, saved him from the Foula boys, at least. But the debt was paid and he felt he didn’t owe him any more. That was why he hated Duncan. Not because he was a bully but because he'd forced Perez to see him as one. Because when he was fourteen, he'd been Perez's best friend.
'How long were Robert and Catherine away?' Perez asked.
Duncan shrugged. 'An hour? No more than that. Less maybe. It wasn't that late. Before Celia said she'd had enough, at least. I was still sober enough to stand. And I remember Catherine coming back. Maybe they had been outside. She looked flushed, red-cheeked, as if she'd been in the cold. And she seemed elated. I told you. That was when she told me she wanted to go .into film. She had so many dreams
, she said, so many projects in her head she wasn't sure she'd have time to work on them all . . : He broke off and for a moment Perez could believe that he was sad. For the girl. Not
just sorry for himself.
'And how was Robert Isbister?'
'I don't know. I didn't see him again. He didn't come back:
After the meal they stood together outside the restaurant, in a narrow alley at the bottom of steep steps.
'Why don't we go on somewhere,' Duncan said.
'Have a few drinks. Like the old days:
Perez was tempted. It would have been good to get very drunk with someone who didn't work for the police.
But Duncan was too eager and Perez wondered again what the evening was all about. It couldn't be, surely, that Duncan was lonely too, that at school he'd needed the shy boy from Fair Isle as much as Perez had needed him?
Chapter Thirty -One
He watched Duncan walk away down the lane towards the market cross and his car. It was early and Perez wasn't ready to go home. Word of Tait's arrest would be all over the islands by now. The people would feel safe again, settle back into the knowledge that this had been a crazy aberration and violent crime only happened elsewhere. They'd sleep. Except for the families of the victims.
The Bruces were staying with relatives in Sandwick.
He supposed Euan Ross would be alone in the big house lose to the shore. Perez had sent a constable to inform him that Tait had been taken into custody, but thought now he should go himself. Ross had been bitter that Tait had been released after Catriona's disappearance. It seemed cowardly not to face him and answer his questions. The police owed him that much at least.
Driving past Hillhead, he remembered the raven. Should he kill it now and get it over with? The CSI must have finished with the place because the police tape had been removed and the house was in darkness. When he found the door locked he was relieved.
One of the team would have taken the key. They might even have found a home for the raven. He remembered that there was a woman in Dunrossness who cared for sick and injured birds. Maybe they'd taken it there. He'd have to check. He'd go back later.