'Hard to keep it quiet, I'd have thought' Taylor was scowling, trying to make sense of it Perez thought he was like an anthropologist, coming to terms with some remote tribe's rituals and mores. 'I mean I take it she wasn't the only person there. We'd have got to hear of it as soon as we put out a request for information at the news conference.'
'I don't think we need assume Duncan was trying to keep it quiet,' Perez said. 'He's the sort who thinks rules are for other people. Like I said, he just couldn't be arsed to pick up the phone:
'An arrogant bastard?'
'Aye, something like that:
'Should one of us go to speak to him?'
'Let me speak to him first,' Perez said. 'If I think he's messing me about one of you can have a shot: They sat for a moment in silence. Even Taylor's thinking was showy, energetic. Looking at him, frowning, you could imagine the synapses jumping and fizzing. A phone rang. Sandy answered it.
'Boss?' Diffident now, though he still wasn't entirely sure what he'd done wrong. 'Professor Morton from Aberdeen:
The inspector took the call in his office and while they were waiting there was an edgy silence. Perez wandered over to the window and looked out at the town. The straight lines of the grey houses were blurred by the rain which was coming down now in hard straight lines. When Taylor returned he was carrying an A4 writing pad. He'd made notes, very detailed, Perez saw, the writing small and cramped.
'Caroline Ross
No sign of struggle. Time of death? Not very helpful. Between six pm and midnight the night of the 4th. She'd had quite a bit to drink soon before she died. Very little to eat. Almost certainly she was killed where she was found: He looked towards Sandy. 'And if a scientist says
'Any trace of recent sexual activity?' Perez asked the question before Sandy could find another, less delicate way of phrasing it 'No,' Taylor said. 'Nothing like that.' He paused again. 'She was a virgin.'
The two of them met up together after the rest of the team had dispersed. Taylor’s idea. Anywhere we can get a decent coffee in this place?' Perez had taken him to the Peerie Cafe in the narrow lane up from the harbour.
Downstairs was full with middle-aged women in anoraks taking a break from shopping and the weather. A couple of young mums were deep in conversation in a corner. One of them was discreetly breastfeeding. The child's head almost hidden by a baggy sweater and Perez wondered how it could breathe. Upstairs they found a table. There was so much background noise that no way could they be overheard.
'So,' Taylor said. 'What do you think? I mean, I'd always assumed that if Tait was involved the motive would be sexual. But there was nothing.'
'Doesn't mean he didn't kill her.'
'Perhaps he liked them innocent,' Taylor said. 'We thought Catriona and Catherine had nothing in common, but there was that. Both untouched.'
'You wouldn't know, though, to look at Catherine.'
'First names both starting with C,' Taylor was getting into his stride. 'Both living in the same house. That's some coincidence.'
'Maybe,' Perez said. 'Still doesn't mean it was Tait.' 'What's he like, this Duncan Hunter?'
Perez shrugged. 'I can't stand the man. Doesn't mean he gets his kicks killing lasses.'
'Would he have been around when Catriona Bruce disappeared?'
'He's always been around. Big fish in a little pond.
His ego'd not survive in the big world outside.'
Taylor's smile was mocking. 'So, what's he done to you?'
'We were at school together. Big mates at one time.'
'And then?'
Perez shrugged again. 'I'd best go to see him. See what he's got to say about Catherine.'
'Do you want me to do it?' 'No. He'll say nothing to you.'
Taylor looked slightly wistful. It was like a recent non-smoker taking in the fumes. He liked being senior investigating officer, but he missed being out there talking to people, getting a feel for the case. 'Come and see me when you get back,' he said. 'Let me know how you got on.'
Perez nodded, eased himself from the chair and out into the street
Chapter Twenty-Three
At the time Perez thought Duncan had saved his life. That was what it felt like. He was thirteen. It was September, the start of a new school year, and it was like having to get used to Anderson High all over again.
Classes, and living in the hostel, and only being able to talk to his family on the phone. After a summer of being on the Isle, helping his dad with the sheep and the boat, it was like being in prison.
Worst of all was being back with the two Foula lads who'd made his life a misery during the first year and who hadn't forgotten what fun that was over the holidays. During the week it wasn't so bad. There were other kids who boarded weekly, there was a bit of a buzz about the place. More staff on duty. Weekends were a nightmare.
Other kids looked forward to the weekends. Jimmy Perez hated them. He anticipated them with dread. He imagined himself at the wheel of a small boat and a huge wave rising up on the horizon and bearing down towards him. Inevitable. Unavoidable. And when Friday night did arrive he counted off the minutes until it was Monday morning, doing the schoolboy sums in his head, working out the percentage of misery time passed and the nightmare still to come.
Then Duncan Hunter took a liking to him. How had that happened? Was there one moment of recognition, the realization that they might be friends? Perez couldn't remember. He had one image in his head. A breezy, sunny day. The water in the harbour whipped against the tide into tight little waves. He and Duncan would have been nearly fourteen and there'd been a joke. Perez couldn't remember which of them had told it, but he remembered the pair of them laughing. Duncan had been laughing so hard he'd had to put his arm around Perez's shoulder to stop himself falling over. Perez had tipped back his head and it seemed the sky was wheeling around him, because the clouds were blown so fast. And when he'd straightened up, spent and dizzy, there were the two Foula boys, sullen and resentful, because he had a friend, an ally and they'd have to find someone else to torment.
Then Perez started looking forward to weekends too. On Friday nights he'd go with Duncan in the bus to North Mainland and they'd walk together down the long drive to the Haa. When he'd first seen the house he couldn't take it all in. It was bigger than anything he'd ever seen. 'Which part do you live in?' he asked. Duncan didn't quite understand. 'The rooms near to the shore are so damp. We don't use those much. And there's no staff. Not really. So no one sleeps right at the top: And in those days, at the peak of the oil rush, Duncan's father was too busy or too dazed by the possibilities or too cautious to spend much on the house, and it was still very dark and primitive. Often the generator didn't work and there was no power. Then they ate supper by candlelight at the long table in the dining room. Perez first got drunk in the Haa and touched a girl's breasts for the first time.
That was when Duncan's parents were away in Aberdeen. To celebrate having the place to themselves, they held a party, Duncan's first party. It was mid-summer and light nearly till dawn. Perez took the girl on to the beach.
She was called Alice, an English girl on holiday. They sat watching the sun not quite set, leaning against the whitewashed wall around the house and Perez slipped his hand under her shirt. She let him stroke her for a few minutes, then pushed him away with a laugh.
Once he asked Duncan, 'Don't your parents mind me being here every weekend?'
Duncan had seemed surprised by the idea. 'No, why should they? They know I like it'
Perhaps that was the first time Perez had been aware of the gulf between them. Whatever Duncan liked, he got He considered it his right. The gap was more noticeable when Duncan spent a few days with him on Fair Isle. There was nothing you could put your finger on. Duncan was charming, polite to his parents. There was a dance at
