had fixed together a red box kite and was getting it into the air. They watched as he passed the string to the girl, then stood behind her, helping her to control it.
‘Martin’s a fantastic father,’ Roddy said. ‘I hope I can do as well when the time comes.’
Taylor had a sudden image of a leggy actress from a soap. Hadn’t there been a story that Roddy was dating her, of a proposal even? There’d been a picture in a tabloid paper that he’d picked up in Aberdeen Airport while he was waiting for the fog to clear. Both obviously drunk, stumbling out of a nightclub. It was hard to imagine them in Shetland, playing happy families on a windswept beach.
Perhaps Roddy had followed his line of thinking. ‘Not that I’m planning on settling down any time soon. My dad died when he was young. If I’m taken early I want to have had a great life before I go.’ He paused. ‘I’m glad my father’s buried here. Biddista always seemed more like home to me than the house in Lerwick.’
‘You spent a lot of time here even before you came to live with Bella?’ Perez asked the question in that hesitant way he had, as if he didn’t want to intrude, but he was so interested that he’d overcome his scruples. Taylor felt a mild irritation at the interruption. He was leading this interview.
‘Yeah. I was never an easy sort of kid. Hyperactive. I never slept much. It can’t have been great for my mother, with Dad to look after. So I came here to stay with Bella most weekends and holidays. I loved it. There was always something going on. People staying. Artists. Musicians. Maybe that’s when I got addicted to partying. And I was the centre of attention, constantly entertained. I remember there was one guy who was a brilliant magician. He did this fantastic magic show just for me – the whole lot, rabbits from a hat, card tricks. Later I realized it was more for Bella’s benefit than mine – they all wanted to please her – but at the time it was wicked. There was the freedom here that I never really had in town. Bella was pretty relaxed about bedtimes and mealtimes and I was just allowed to roam.’
‘Real life would have been hard after that,’ Perez said.
‘Yeah. I think I’ve been spending the rest of my life trying to recapture the magic.’ Roddy gave a self- deprecating grin. ‘Nothing ever quite lives up to it.’
‘Did Bella have a serious relationship with any of the visitors?’
‘Definitely not serious. I guess she might have slept with them, but I never really knew about that.’
‘Do you manage to see much of your mother?’ Perez asked.
‘We get on OK these days. I was very hard on her when I was younger. Just grief maybe. I couldn’t understand how she could take up with another man. Things are still a bit tricky between me and her husband, but we manage to be polite to each other for her sake.’
‘The Englishman who died,’ Taylor said. ‘We think he was the person who was trying to sabotage your aunt’s exhibition. Do you have any idea why he would want to do that?’
‘Why would anyone?’
‘Your aunt doesn’t have enemies?’
‘Lots of spurned lovers,’ Roddy said. ‘Bella’s always attracted men. Like I said, when I was growing up, Biddista was full of visitors who imagined themselves besotted with her. From spotty students to earnest elderly intellectuals. It was all very amusing for a child. There’s nothing a kid likes more than grown-ups making prats of themselves. And even now she still pulls people in. She’s flattered by the attention. Sometimes I think she’s quite lonely, but she’ll never settle down.’
‘Has there been a recent admirer?’
‘Not that I’m aware of. But I haven’t been home for a while. I might not know.’
‘She didn’t mention anyone?’
‘That she was being stalked by an Englishman with no hair and a penchant for weeping in public? No, inspector. And if that was the case she wouldn’t need to kill him to get rid of him. She’s an assertive woman. She can get her own way without resorting to violence.’
On the beach the wind must have changed suddenly, because the kite twisted and dived into the sand. The little girl dropped the string and ran towards it, arms outstretched, mimicking the zig-zag movement as it had crashed to the earth. Kenny Thomson brought his boat back towards the shore.
Roddy continued. ‘If that scene at the party was a stunt to hurt Bella, it was all rather pointless, wasn’t it? The Englishman didn’t succeed in wrecking the show. All my aunt’s London friends were there. They’ll still write reviews. The paintings will go back to the galleries. It was just a gesture. An anticlimax.’ He smiled again. ‘Inspector Perez accused me of being behind the flyers to cancel the party, but if I’d wanted to sabotage the exhibition, I’d have made a far better job of it.’
‘Your aunt says you’re planning to leave Shetland.’
‘I was going to get the ferry tonight, but I don’t think I’ll make it now. I can’t see me getting my act together. I’ve started packing, but suddenly it all seemed too much hassle and I came out here. Maybe I will. I prefer the boat. Otherwise I’ll take a plane first thing in the morning. That would give me another evening. A chance to say goodbye properly to folks here.’
‘Is there something urgent to take you south?’
‘There’s always work of course, but I think it’s more that there’s nothing to keep me here.’
Taylor thought the boy sounded like an old man, disillusioned and world-weary. Roddy leaned against the wall and looked at the two men, waiting for more questions to come. Taylor couldn’t think of anything else to ask.
‘If there’s nothing more,’ Roddy said, ‘I’ll go, get on with the packing.’ Without waiting for a reply, he ran through a gap in the wall and down the grassy slope to the beach. They watched him jog along the tideline until he’d joined the Williamsons. He lifted the little girl on to his shoulders and they walked together towards the houses.
Taylor turned back to find Perez standing by one of the graves.
‘This is it. This is where his father is buried.’
The headstone looked less weathered than the rest. The words were still fresh and easy to read. IN LOVING MEMORY OF ALEXANDER IAN SINCLAIR. HE DIED TOO YOUNG.
Taylor thought the same could be said of the Englishman lying on the table in the mortuary. But it seemed there was no one yet to grieve for him.
Chapter Twenty-three
Perez wasn’t sure what to make of the conversation with Roddy Sinclair. He thought in a way it had been like talking to a criminal, one of those old offenders who’ve been questioned so often by the police that they know how to play the game. Roddy spent his life fending off awkward questions from the media. He knew what impression he wanted to give and he stuck to his story. Fran had said she’d met the musician a few times but didn’t feel she really knew him. Perhaps he’d been taken in by the hype too, had lost a sense of his own identity. Perez wished Taylor hadn’t been there at the graveyard. He’d had a sense that there were things the boy had wanted to say, but Taylor’s abrasive style had put him off.
‘I’m going to talk to Edith Thomson,’ Perez said. They were walking down the road now, back towards the jetty and their cars. ‘She’s Kenny’s wife. She wasn’t at the Herring House party, but she was at home that evening. She might have seen something. And she’s known Bella for years.’
‘Isn’t she the one that works in the old folks’ home?’
‘The care centre,’ Perez said. ‘I thought I’d catch her there. Would you like to be in on that?’
‘It’d make more sense if we separated,’ Taylor said. ‘I’ll stay around here, get more of a feel for the place. I might catch up with Martin Williamson.’
Perez sensed panic in the man’s refusal. He thought Taylor would dislike contact with the elderly and infirm. He would prefer not to be reminded of his own mortality. Perez was relieved to have the opportunity to talk to Edith alone. He’d met her a couple of times with Kenny and he’d thought her a proud and dignified woman. She might not respond well to Taylor’s approach either.
The care centre was purpose-built, a low modern box with long windows giving a view down the voe to the sea. A minibus specially adapted with a lift for wheelchairs was parked outside, along with the staff cars. Perez walked inside and was engulfed by a sudden blast of heat and the institutional scent of disinfectant and floor polish. In the background a surprisingly appetizing smell of cooking food. It was only eleven-thirty but tables in the
