Raven Black

She'd taken his picture. First outside, with him standing by the house and looking down towards the school.

Then in the house, swinging the camera all around and stopping for a while next to the raven, pointing it very close to the bars of the cage. Since they'd locked him up, Magnus had thought every now and then about the raven and about how maybe it would have been better to kill it as soon as he'd found it injured. Maybe that would have been kinder than keeping it shut in.

Catherine had shown him the pictures she'd taken, pointing to them on a little screen. 'Look Magnus, you're on television: But his eyesight hadn't been good lately and he hadn't been able to make out the images.

They seemed to be jumping up and down in front of him, and how could photos do that? He pretended he could see, though, because he didn't want to hurt her. He'd thought she would go then, but she sat down in his mother's chair, lying back as if she was exhausted. She'd taken off her coat and thrown it on the floor beside her. She was wearing trousers, black trousers, very wide at the bottom. His mother had never worn trousers in her life, but in the warm there as the light started to go outside, it was almost like talking to his mother.

Why had he started talking about Catriona? Because the girl had been in his mind a lot since New Year when Sally and Catherine had tumbled into his house. They were older than Catriona, more like women than girls with their shiny lips and the black lines around their eyes, but they made him feel the same. It was the giggling and the fast way of talking and the way they played with their hair. Catherine's tiny feet and skinny wrists, Sally's soft plump arms, their bangles and beads.

But now Catherine sat in his mother's chair, with her legs crossed and her stockinged feet stretched towards the fire and she didn't giggle. She asked gentle questions and listened to his answers. He forgot his mother's words Tell them nothing and he described what happened that day after Catriona came to call.

Later, of course, he regretted it. Later, he knew he'd done wrong.

Chapter Thirty – Eight

They sat in Jimmy Perez's house. Somehow Taylor was still in Shetland. Perez wasn't sure how he'd managed to get out of returning to Inverness. He'd avoided phone calls, talked vaguely about taking a few days leave, said his back was playing up, made excuses about details of the case. Still some loose ends to tie up. The same excuses Perez made when he tried to explain what he was doing still looking into Catherine Ross's murder. Because that was all over, wasn't it? The old man was in custody. Any day now he'd be sent south and they could forget all about it until the case came to court.

Only Perez couldn't forget it. And neither could Taylor. Which was why they were sitting here, in Perez's house, and not at the police station, where Taylor might be caught lying down the phone to his superiors in Inverness. And it was why any resentment Perez might have had about an outsider coming in and taking over the case had evaporated. Rank didn't matter any more. They were allies.

Outside the weather had changed again, brightened up a bit. The rain had stopped and the wind had eased. The forecast for January 25th was for high pressure and frost. That would be fine for Up Helly Aa, a clear night so you could see the bonfire for miles. In town that was what the talk was about – the boat, the procession and who would lead it – and already the tourists had started to arrive.

They were sitting in the wood-panelled room and a milky sun was reflected from the water. Perez had made coffee, a big cafetiere which was supposed to last them, but which was already nearly empty and anyway was cold.

The cafetiere and two mugs stood on a tray on the floor. On the low coffee table lay the notebook, the big sheet of paper with Catherine's plan for her film and the crumpled Safeway's receipt.

Euan Ross had brought them in the night before. He'd come straight from the library where he'd taken copies. I know her writing better than you do. Something might suddenly make sense to me. The paper and notebook had been in a clear plastic A4 envelope, which he'd held away from his body, gingerly, like a bomb. He'd refused to hand it over to anyone else in the police station.

When Taylor picked up the receipt Perez wanted to take it from him. The Englishman's hands were so big that Perez was afraid he might damage it and already the print from the till was faint. Taylor looked at the note in Catherine's writing. Catriona Bruce. Desire or hate? Then he turned it over.

'It's dated January 4th and timed ten fifty-seven,' Perez said, trying to keep his voice calm, hoping Taylor would replace the scrap of paper. 'The purchases are listed: oatcakes, milk, tea, biscuits, economy pork sausages, a steak pie for one, two tins of peas, two tins of beans, a white sliced loaf, a ginger cake and a bottle of Famous Grouse. I've been to Magnus's house..: Not for the first time. He'd been there the day after the old man's arrest, carried out the raven in its creaky old cage and taken it to the woman in Dunrossness to care for.

He hadn't told his colleagues about that. They thought him daft enough as it was. But he couldn't just leave it there to starve and he couldn't hit it on the head either. He returned his attention to the receipt. 'There were two sausages of the same brand in his fridge along with the pie, one tin of beans is in his pantry, the other, empty, is in his rubbish bin-'

'OK,' Taylor interrupted. 'So the receipt belonged to Magnus: Finally he replaced the paper on the table. Perez felt himself relax.

He continued, 'The date, of course, is most significant. January 4th. The day before Catherine's body was found.

The day they met up on the bus. Catherine scribbled a note on the receipt when she was in Magnus's house.

Something she wanted to remember. We'll come back to that. She took it with her, must have done because Euan found it in her room. That means she must have been alive when she left Hillhead:

'It doesn't mean Magnus didn't kill her,' Taylor said. 'He could have followed her to the Ross house. Or arranged to meet her outside. We always thought it most likely she was killed where she was found. Almost certain, the pathologist said:

'Aye,' Perez said. 'Maybe. But why would he follow her? Why kill her?'

'Because he'd talked to her about Catriona Bruce. He must be a lonely man. Living all on his own in that house since his mother died. Suddenly he had company, someone sympathetic, wanting him to talk, listening to him.

Perhaps she had her own reasons for encouraging him to speak. She wanted his stories for her film. Perhaps she was just a nice kid who felt sorry for him. And the temptation was too much for him. perhaps he'd had a whisky or two and that loosened his tongue. Whatever:

'I can see that,' Perez said. 'I can even see him killing her afterwards to keep the whole thing quiet.

But I can't see him going into the Ross house, searching her room and finding the disk, finding the script and wiping all trace of it from the PC. I don't get that:

They sat looking at each other for a moment in silence. Taylor stretched, shuffled in his chair. He'd told Perez he had a bad back, disc trouble, that was why he couldn't sit still, but Perez wasn't convinced. It was the man's mind that didn't know how to rest, not his body.

'So what do we do about it?' Taylor said. 'Time's running out for me. I've promised I'll be back at the end of the week. Any longer than that and they'll start talking about a disciplinary:

'I'm going to take another trip to the Anderson,' Perez said. 'Check she didn't hand the film in early, give it to a friend to look at. If the film is safe we have to let the whole thing go. Like you said, the note on the back of the receipt incriminates Magnus. It shows he talked to her about Catriona. Euan says there's no other way she could have known about the girl:

'Taylor stood up, lifting the plan with both hands on his way. He carried it to the window, where the light was better. 'This is crazy,' he said. 'I mean, submit this as evidence and they'll think she was psychotic. What does it mean? Some sort of secret code? It's like that writing the Egyptians used. Hieroglyphs:

'Euan thinks it was a way of planning the laying out the scenes in the right order!

'Can you make anything of it?'