Martin told me to shut up or I’d wake his daughter.’
‘Martin walked up to the Manse with you?’
‘No, in the end he went all sensible on me. Said Dawn would kill him if he didn’t get back at a decent time and he’d promised to help in the shop in the morning. I walked with him as far as his house, then carried on by myself.’
‘Still no one else about?’
‘I didn’t see anyone.’
‘Was Bella up when you got home?’
‘No. The place was empty. Quiet as the grave.’
Back on the jetty, the GP’s car had gone. Sandy was still sitting by himself. He never seemed troubled by boredom. Perez wondered what he could be thinking about, sitting so still and nothing to occupy him. Some woman, perhaps. Sandy was given to brief and violent infatuations. The relationships never lasted and each time he was left disappointed and confused.
Perez thought his own record was hardly any better. Now he was infatuated too. Perhaps he was making as big a fool of himself as Sandy always did. He felt himself grinning and decided he didn’t care, looked at his watch to cover up the daft smirk. It was nearly one o’clock. Sandy was troubled by hunger and would soon be pressing for a lunch break. When he saw Perez approaching he jumped off the harbour wall.
‘I’ve just tried to phone you.’
‘No signal on the hill,’ Perez said. There were black holes for mobiles all over the islands.
‘The doctors have just gone.’
‘And?’
‘They’re agreed. Murder.’
Chapter Nine
So now it was official. They couldn’t just call out the paramedics, cut down the stranger in black and hand his body over to the health authority. Perez looked at his watch. The squad from Inverness wouldn’t get to Aberdeen in time for the ferry, but they should just make the last plane of the evening in. He was already dialling to let his team in Lerwick know what was happening, get things moving.
‘Are you OK to stay here, Sandy? Mark it out as a crime scene and keep folks well away. I’ll get them to send someone to relieve you as soon as we can.’
He supposed he should go back to town. There was all the bureaucracy that came with a suspicious death. His first priority should be to identify the dead man. He should speak to the Fiscal, start the legal process of the investigation. But really he wanted to stay in Biddista. There were other people here to talk to and he thought he’d get more out of them than would the incomers.
‘Hey, I’m starving. Let me just go over to the shop to get some chocolate, huh?’ Sandy could whine like a two-year-old. Perez thought sometimes he had the brains of a two-year-old; then he’d surprise them all with his technical competence – he was better at IT than anyone else in the office. Perez couldn’t help liking him.
‘You stay here. I’ll get you something.’ Before Sandy could object he was halfway across the road. He could hear the Whalsay man shouting after him. ‘A Mars Bar then. And crisps. Salt and vinegar. And a can of Coke. Not the bloody Diet shite.’
The shop had been built on to the last house in the terrace and was hardly bigger than an English suburban garage. There were shelves all round the walls for self-service and a refrigerated counter with a lump of Orkney cheddar and a couple of pounds of vacuum-packed streaky bacon. In one corner, the post office: a rack of official forms and some scales for weighing parcels. A young man stood behind the food counter. Perez recognized Martin Williamson, the chef who’d prepared the food for the exhibition the night before. Williamson’s father had run a hotel in Scalloway until he’d drunk all the profits and the family had sold up and moved into Lerwick. The father had died soon after. He’d fallen into the water at the ferry terminal, full of drink. Rumour had it that he’d jumped, but nobody had seen him fall, so how could they know?
Yet Martin had a reputation for good humour. Even at the old man’s funeral, he’d been heard cracking a joke with one of his friends. There were people who’d disapproved of that; others thought he was putting on a brave face. The story would be linked to him for ever. It defined him: Martin Williamson, the man who laughed at his father’s funeral. ‘He’s always been a bit of a clown,’ his mother was quoted as saying when the complaints got back to her. Apparently, the comment had been made quite without judgement.
Aggie Williamson had her name over the shop door and lived in the house attached. The same rumour- mongers who gossiped about old man Williamson’s drowning explained her sudden affluence, the ability to buy the business, as the result of the payout from the insurance company after her husband’s death. She’d grown up in Biddista and had always wanted to return there. She’d never settled in Scalloway or in the hotel. She was a quiet and withdrawn woman and the noise of the hotel’s public bar, the stress of facing strangers who came to holiday there, had unsettled her. She could scarcely make much of a living from the Biddista business, but the Royal Mail paid her a little, and anyway she preferred it when the shop was empty. Then she sat on the high stool next to the post office and read romantic novels set in the past.
Martin lived in the house set in the middle of the terrace with his wife Dawn and his young daughter. He helped his mother out when he wasn’t working in the Herring House. He had ambitions to open his own restaurant.
All this Perez knew, although his dealings with the family had been limited. He wondered occasionally how it must be to live in a community where the back stories to people’s lives remained untold. Exhilarating, he thought. It could be possible to reinvent yourself with every encounter. But it might be flat and a little cold too. Biddista had even fewer people than Fair Isle, where he grew up. He thought the folk here would make sure they had some secrets to keep to themselves. Nobody liked to think their neighbours knew everything about them.
He realized that he must look very odd, just standing there, deep in thought, and roused himself. The shop was gloomy. The only light came from the open door. In the shadow he saw a small child playing on the floor, a box of toys beside her. In her arms she held a knitted toy, a strange animal with elongated limbs and a snout. She held it round the middle and bounced it along the floor as if it was dancing. Martin looked at him over the counter, saw him staring at the toy and laughed.
‘Don’t ask what it is. Alice took a fancy to it at a sale of work and now we can’t get it off her, even to wash it.’ He grinned. ‘Twice in two days: what brings you to Biddista again so soon?’
Perez ignored the question. ‘I thought you ran the cafe in the Herring House. Aren’t you there today?’
‘The gallery’s not open on a Tuesday. I give my mother a bit of a break by standing in here.’
Perez walked around the shelves, pulling off chocolate bars and crisps. No salt and vinegar. Would cheese and onion do? Sandy could be picky about his food. I can’t believe that I’m really worrying about this, Perez thought, that I’m just about to start a murder investigation and I’m bothered by Sandy’s choice of a snack lunch. He landed up at the counter, took his wallet out of his back pocket. ‘That man who was at the gallery last night,’ he said. ‘You saw he was a bit upset. Did you recognize him?’
Martin shook his head. ‘He looked like a visitor to me.’ He began to ring up Perez’s purchases on the till.
‘I left him in the kitchen with you. What made him run off suddenly like that?’
Martin looked up, a packet of crisps still in his hand. ‘Hey, it was nothing to do with me. I was still working on the buffet. Waste of time in the end, half of it was uneaten. They didn’t get as many people as they were expecting. Bella was furious.’
‘So what happened? Did he just get up and walk out without a word?’
‘I don’t know what happened. I carried a tray of food out to set on the trestle at the back of the gallery. When I got back to the kitchen he’d gone. Maybe he just sorted himself out and went home.’
‘No,’ Perez said. He saw that the girl was engrossed in her game, but still lowered his voice. ‘He didn’t do that. He’s still there in Kenny Thomson’s hut. He’s dead. Hanging from one of the rafters.’
Martin’s mouth stretched into the beginning of an embarrassed laugh.
‘You’re joking?’
‘No,’ Perez said. ‘Why would I joke about something like that? Kenny found him. He hasn’t said anything to
