The Body in the Bracken

by Marsali Taylor

  As we broke for lunch, Kevin sidled up to me. ‘Cass, I don’t suppose I could borrow your black suit?’

  I looked blankly at him. He gestured with his hands. ‘The black suit you wear for sailing, the Musto onesie one.’ He coloured. ‘It’s for Up Helly Aa.’

  I made a face. Although I had the new one that Maman and Dad had given me for Christmas, I’d planned on keeping it good by wearing the old one most of the time. ‘Can you keep it safe from sparks?’ The procession was death on clothing.

  Kevin’s face fell, then brightened. ‘Nobody wears the full costume for the procession anyway. I could wear black breeks for that, if you’d let me borrow it for the acts.’

  ‘It’ll be awful short in the legs on you.’ I only came up to Kevin’s chin.

  ‘You’ll never see that with rubber boots on. Thanks, Cass.’

  Chapter Twenty-five

  The moon had risen when I came back to Khalida, glimmering with a silvery radiance between heavy clouds. The pontoon was busy with people working around the neon-white tent. I looked at the empty berths for signs of a diver’s hold on the pontoon rim or projecting fingers. The snow on each was smooth and unbroken. If a diver had shot Hubert, he’d bobbed in the water. I shook my head. It had been a better shot than that. And the idea of an extra motorboat was definitely out; it would have been higher than the finger pontoon arms, and I’d have seen it, especially if it had then backed out and roared off as the police arrived … I shoved my curiosity away.

  Cat wasn’t aboard Sule, nor Rat; the men must have taken them over to the café. The officer at the marina gate checked on his radio, and said that I could go aboard my boat again. Hubert’s footprints were lost under the new falls of snow, criss-crossed by official boots, although I could see in my mind’s eye where they still were, frozen intact under the layers of white stars. Prayer helps … Eternal rest grant unto him, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon him …

  Aboard Khalida, I swept the trampled snow from my decks and shovelled it from the cockpit before going below. I wanted to clean my home after the police intrusion, but I knew I’d be wanted at the café, and a walk would clear my head.

  I paused at the marina gate, suddenly uneasy. Something was different. I looked back along the boats, but nothing rang a bell. It would come back to me. I headed across to Main Street, striding out along Port Arthur Road as if I could run away from my thoughts. Eternal rest grant unto him, O Lord …

  The café windows were lit up to show the armchairs in position, and the tables spread with my starched cloths. Cat and Rat were curled up in front of the stove, and a cinnamon pastry smell drifted out of the door. A pair of women and a toddler paused to look in; the toddler pressed his nose to the glass and shouted, ‘Dass!’

  I crossed the road. ‘Inga! We’re no’ open yet, but I’m sure you can come in.’

  ‘I come in,’ Peerie Charlie said. His small rubber boots clattered on my polished wooden floor as he charged to the biggest armchair and clambered up on it, feet sticking straight out.

  ‘We thought we needed to speak to you,’ Inga said, pulling her woollen hat and gloves off. ‘You mind Susan, don’t you?’

  ‘It’s a braw twartree years since I was trying to keep the three of you out of trouble,’ Susan said. I’d have known her, though; dark eyes just like Inga’s, and dark hair, though hers was threaded with grey.

  ‘Take a seat,’ Reidar said. ‘I will bring coffee, and a pastry.’

  I collapsed gratefully into one of the armchairs. Breakfast felt a long time ago. Peerie Charlie clambered on top of me. ‘I share chair, Dass.’

  ‘We had the police round this morning,’ Inga said. ‘No’ your policeman in the kilt, he’s likely no’ allowed to investigate you. The blonde Peterson lass and another one with her. Luckily for you, I’d no balled oot last year’s calendar.’

  I gave her the blank look that deserved.

  ‘Alibis. The weekend Ivor came back was Lilian’s wedding.’

  Lilian was one of Inga’s hockey team, and the entire squad had spent the Wednesday and Thursday decorating the hall with ribbons in the team colours; then of course the wedding had been on the Friday and Saturday evenings, in the traditional Shetland fashion: the Friday after the actual wedding, and the Saturday just for the fun of it. I remembered it all vividly, because big Charlie had been away, and I’d babysat for all four nights. I’d had all three children for Wednesday and Thursday, then I’d picked Peerie Charlie up from the wedding nights mid-evening, and taken him home, jagged with tiredness after an exciting day. There was no possibility whatever of me having gone south then to kill Ivor and sail his boat back, or take his car down south; I’d been far too busy arguing about bedtimes.

  ‘He even got Vaila and Dawn in and asked, casual-like, who’d babysat for them for Lilian’s wedding, and after a bit of argument they agreed it had been you. You’d insisted on reading Dawn Swallows and Amazons as her bedtime story instead of The Hunger Games, and wouldn’t let them watch a second film because of school tomorrow.’

  I didn’t need reminded. The four evenings were seared into my memory. I just hadn’t realised it was that weekend. ‘So I’m in the clear for Ivor.’

  Reidar came over with a tray of mugs and a pot of coffee. There was a pause while everyone was served with coffee, and lemonade was found for Peerie Charlie, then Anders passed round a dish of pastries. I picked an apricot-centred one with plenty of sugar and bit in ravenously. Inga waited until the men had gone back into the kitchen, then leaned forward.

  ‘He asked a load o’ questions about your relations with Hubert. “None,” I told him. “She’d ken him to speak to, at the marina, but as for having some secret affair with him, well, why on earth should she? They’re both free and old enough to ken their own business.” He looked kinda sheepish-wye at that, and Freya Peterson closed her notebook, and the pair of them trundled off.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘And I brought Susan along because this needs sorted.’ She nodded to her sister, who reddened.

  ‘I’m no’ sure what help I can be, but Inga just said to tell you about Ivor and Julie.’ She turned the flower-patterned cup in her hands. I nodded encouragingly. ‘I was all through the school with them. We were all in the same class. All the lasses fancied Ivor, no’ just Julie. Bridge Georgeson was keen on him an’ all. An’ Hubert was aye keen on Julie, but she never looked at him. It was Ivor she wanted or nobody, but she had no chance.’ She fished in her bag and brought out a school photo, three rows of bairns in their best Fair Isle ganseys. I took it from her. Susan was on the end, with two neat dark plaits. Hubert was behind her, smiling anxiously for the camera, a child who was keen to get it right. Ivor was in the middle, with fashionably long hair and a cheeky grin. I wouldn’t have turned my back on him. Beside him, Julie was pudgy and plain, but smug-looking, the child whose hand would be up first. Miss Georgeson was in the front row, all sparkling dark eyes and rosy cheeks like a Dutch doll. Susan put a finger on her. ‘Bridge was lively and fun, and Julie was just …’ She struggled for the word. ‘Devoted. She was aye the cleverest of us. Ivor got Julie to do his homework, but it was Bridge he asked if he wanted to do something wild, like the time they climbed up on the school roof.’

  ‘So … when did Julie’s devotion start paying off?’

  ‘Well, he wasn’t interested when we were teenagers, then he went off to uni, and we reckoned that was why Julie went to Aberdeen when she coulda gone to Edinburgh. They were in the same hall, but he was out partying while she was getting the best grades of our year. Then he got a flat, an’ she’d go round and clean up, cook meals. There was a row with Bridge about that. I mind. By then, you see, he and Bridge were kinda steady, and Bridge objected to Julie looking after her man, and Ivor said if she hated it that much then she could come and do it, and she told him to get lost. Next thing, he and Julie were an item, and she was choosing wedding dresses.’

  ‘You didn’t like her?’

  Su
san grimaced. ‘I thought she was stupid. She shoulda got over it in primary school. She wouldna believe it, but you could see Ivor would have other girls behind her back. And he did. This Serco lass was the latest in a long line. It kinda soured Bridge an’ all. After a few “I don’t care” flings, she never went out with anyone else. She said she was too busy doing her teaching practice – that’s a killer year, believe me – then her placement, with you twa in the class.’

  She paused to drink her coffee. ‘The sad thing is, I can see it now, that Ivor woulda been better off with Bridge, going adventuring together, and Julie woulda been just the wife for Hubert, sorting him out and gingering him up instead of letting him moulder away in a falling-down croft house.’ Her face went white, and her eyes filled with tears. ‘Poor Hubert. I hope they catch whaever did yon.’

  The personalities were coming clearer. ‘Can you try … give me one word for each of them. What they were like.’

  Susan considered. ‘Julie, efficient. She wanted Ivor and she got him.’

  ‘Suppose she’d found evidence he’d got another girl? That could have turned all that devotion to hatred. Might she have snapped, and killed him?’

  Susan shook her head. ‘She’s closed her eyes to them all these years. Bridge was the one for fireworks. Light blue touch paper and stand well clear.’

  Inga grinned. ‘Cass kens that. She was the one holding the match.’

  ‘Julie never lost the rag. She was steady and determined, like one of those road roller machines. She decided what she wanted, and worked and planned until she got it. I was eyeing up babygros already, for next spring.’

  I jerked my head up, surprised. ‘Is she …?’

  ‘Na, na. But she was talking, in the summer, of them starting a family, before she got too old. So I was expecting the maternity leave to start at Christmas, whether Ivor liked it or not.’

  ‘What was Ivor like? One word for him.’

  ‘Laid back. Anything for a quiet life. Selfish – no, self-centred. He expected Julie’s world to revolve around him.’ She thought a bit more. ‘Frustrated. Always expected the world to be more exciting than the daily grind. Full of new schemes for the rainbow tomorrow.’

  ‘Hubert?’

  ‘Devoted. He’d have done anything for Julie.’ She glanced towards the kitchen and lowered her voice. ‘Listen, Julie phoned me this morning. She wanted someone to talk to. Hubert visited her yesterday. He called in at the college, just after eleven, and she had a class about to come in, so she couldn’t speak, but she said he seemed upset. He said he’d phone her later, but he didn’t.’

  ‘Upset about what?’

  ‘She said he was asking her questions about the partnership between Ivor and Robert-John, what exactly was involved. She thought he was trying to find out if she was going to be okay financially.’

  ‘Her workplace isn’t great for a sympathetic chat.’

  ‘Hubert wouldn’t think of that. She couldn’t remember his exact questions. She was knocked sideways by his death. “He was always there for me,” she said.’

  She sat back, spreading her hands in a ‘that’s all gesture. There was a silence. ‘Does that help?’ Inga asked, at last.

  I was beginning to have a wild idea of why and who, but I didn’t believe the how. ‘I’m no’ sure. Thanks, Susan.’

  Inga stood and held out a hand to Peerie Charlie. ‘Come on, peeriebreeks. We need to go and get the lasses. Thanks for the coffee, Reidar.’ She pressed a tenner into my hand. ‘Stick that in the till for me, once you’re open.’

  I walked out into the darkening street with them, and was just going back in when my phone rang. It was Gavin.

  ‘Feasgar mhath.’ I was glad he’d greeted me in Gaelic. ‘How have you got on today?’

  ‘Fine.’ My voice was pitched too high.

  ‘I hope the search didn’t give you too much tidying.’

  ‘No, it was okay.’ He could hear in my voice that I meant it was as okay as it could be. I tried to make it warmer. ‘Anyway, I’m too busy helping Reidar to tidy. How about you?’

  ‘I’m tired to my very bones. I’ve spent all day talking, and now I have a pile of paperwork. Goodness knows when I’ll get to bed.’ His voice became self-conscious. ‘I’ve been offered a ticket for the Fire Festival, at the boating club. Is that where you’re going?’

  ‘Yes.’ Make an effort … ‘How about watching the procession together? I can explain the in-jokes, if I know them.’

  ‘That’d be good. What time?’

  ‘Seven o’clock, I think – I’ll find out, and phone you. If it’s seven, maybe meet at half six?’

  ‘I should manage that.’

  ‘Warm clothes,’ I warned him. ‘Two jumpers, a fire-proof jacket and at least three pairs of socks. The cold just seeps up from the ground when you’re standing around.’

  ‘You’re telling a policeman about standing around in the cold?’

  ‘Right enough,’ I conceded, ‘it doesn’t last as long as a football match. Goodnight then.’

  ‘Beannachd leat.’

  I understood, but it hurt. I kicked a stone across the car park, brooding, then jumped as Anders called me.

  ‘Cass! You should not be hanging about in the dark here on your own.’

  He was likely right. I came back into the cafe and put my pinnie on. ‘What now?’

  Reidar passed me a mixing bowl. ‘Another set of cakes for the freezer. And there is a stew cooking for tea, if you are hungry.’

  Stew sounded good.

  ‘And then,’ Anders added, ‘you can tell us all about what you are mixed up in now.’

  ‘I’m not mixed up.’

  ‘Someone is doing their best to make sure you are.’

  I hadn’t thought of it like that. ‘You think Hubert’s death was setting me up?’

  ‘No deaths,’ Reidar rumbled. ‘No discussions, until we have eaten.’

  Chapter Twenty-six

  We spent what was left of the afternoon baking. By six o’ clock I was ravenous. Reidar swathed a heavy enamel casserole in a towel and I held it while we drove back to the marina.

  As we got out of the car I realised what was missing. During the autumn there had been half a dozen little skiffs here, ten-foot rowing boats which had migrated back to their owners’ sheds to hibernate for the winter; all except two, a solid wooden double-pointed one that it would take more than even a Shetland gale to shift, with a stout rope from the bow around a couple of breeze blocks, and a green fibreglass effort with a pram bow, upside-down, with a rope over her. The wooden one was still here, but there was only a faint outline in the snow where the fibreglass one been. The rope lay like a snake over the other boat’s side.

  I stopped dead, and Anders bumped into me. ‘What is it?’

  I pointed to the space. ‘A skiff’s missing.’ She’d been a lightweight thing, with wheels on her transom, easily manhandled in silence by one person, especially if the water was close by. She was low enough to lie in the dark water between two pontoon fingers, long enough for a person to huddle down in. ‘That’s how Hubert was shot. Someone was waiting in a boat.’

  The person had sculled silently out to the pontoon, and sneaked into a vacant berth at the end, not far past where that Cass had her Khalida moored. He or she had waited for him to arrive, and shot at point-blank range; then, in the moment it took for me to come out they’d slipped the skiff out of the marina and around the breakwater. I’d felt the ripples against Khalida’s hull.

  I walked around the marina wall and along the boating club deck. Yes, there was the skiff, bobbing gently against the pier. I didn’t suppose there would be any fingerprints, because even the most innocent citizen would naturally have worn gloves in this cold, but I didn’t touch her, just in case.

  I hauled my phone out of my pocket and phoned Gavin. ‘I’ve found your murderer’s getaway boat.’ I said, and described it.

  ‘Interesting,’ Gavin said. ‘Can you show it to one of the officers
on duty?’

  ‘Sure.’

  It was a new officer on the marina gate, and I recognised him straight away. He was the young man who’d tried to keep me off my own ship in the longship case, and mistook me for a mischievous boy when I climbed the castle walls to get away from a murderer. He recognised me too, and greeted me with professional bonhomie. ‘Hello, miss.’

  ‘Evening. I’ve got a boat to show you,’ I said. I gestured to the space where the skiff had been. ‘It was the space here that I noticed. It was here until a couple of days ago, anyway. Then I looked over here.’ I led him to the boating club pier, and showed him the skiff. ‘She’s tied with a proper bowline.’ I smiled sweetly at him. ‘Of course you’ll need to move her before Friday, or you may find she’s caught light from the galley.’

  I left him to it, and headed for Sule.

  Reidar’s stew was wonderful. He’d made it with best Scalloway Meat Co. Ltd. beef, simmered with carrots and a dash of wine, and served it up with potatoes mashed to a creamy consistency, and flavoured with nutmeg. We ate around the table, with Cat purring in my lap and Rat perched on Anders’ shoulder. Then there were biscuits and tea, and gradually the peace of the boat took over: the wood creaking, the gentle tap of the waves on the hull, the slush of snow sliding down the windows. Every so often a car came along the Port Arthur road and into the college, or turned in at the boating club. At last I leaned forward with a sigh. ‘I should go and write my notes up from today.’