‘It didn’t stop you asking me out to lunch.’
‘It’s lunch. I wanted someone to share this place with me. You didn’t have to accept.’
She felt suddenly that she was being ridiculous. ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘I should never drink at lunchtime. It’s always a mistake. This is all lovely.’
‘Is it true then? You and Perez…’
He was looking at her, squinting into the sunlight.
‘I don’t think,’ she said sharply, ‘that’s it’s any of your business.’
‘Does that mean I still have a chance then? Of winning a place in your affections?’
She looked at him. She couldn’t make him out. Was he teasing her? Was this innocent flirting? Or something more sinister?
‘No,’ she said firmly. ‘My affections are definitely taken.’
‘What a terrible pity. You need some fun in your life and Inspector Perez doesn’t seem a lot of fun. I’d help you to play.’
She didn’t answer that. He piled mackerel pate on to an oatcake and handed it to her.
‘Does Perez ever talk to you about his work?’
‘There’s not usually very much to talk about,’ she said. ‘Nothing interesting.’
‘But this is murder. We’re all interested in that.’
‘I don’t think I am. I want the murderer caught, of course. But I didn’t know the victim and I’m not involved in the case to any extent. It’s Jimmy’s job and nothing to do with me.’ She wondered now if he’d just brought her here because he was curious about the investigation.
‘I’m fascinated. I’d have thought you would be too. You used to be a journalist! And art’s about the experience of extremes, don’t you think?’
‘I’m too chilled to think anything,’ she said, smiling, trying to lighten the mood.
He seemed to realize that it would do no good to push it. ‘Somewhere in here there’s a very good chocolate cake.’ And he went on to entertain her with stories of publishers’ parties and the sexual activities of famous novelists, so she almost forgot that there’d been any awkwardness between them.
He was the one to say they should make a start back or she’d be late to pick up Cassie. She was surprised at how quickly the time had passed. She stood up and brushed the crumbs and sand from her clothes and followed him up the steps to the house.
‘You will take it on, won’t you?’ he said. ‘The house, I mean.’
‘I’ve never done interior design,’ she said.
‘That doesn’t matter. You have an artist’s eye. I know you’ll make a good job of it.’
She stood looking at the house, imagining how she would do it, saw it completed, the windows open to the sound of the waves and the seabirds, full of people for a house-warming party. Another glimpse of her old life. He couldn’t have thought of anything better to tempt her.
She laughed and refused to give him a real answer. ‘When it’s yours we’ll talk about it again.’
Chapter Twenty-five
Perez had thought he might go back to Biddista when he left the care centre, call in to the Manse and see if he could find Roddy on his own. He felt he understood the young man a bit better now, still believed Roddy might have information that could help with the inquiry. But the news that Sandy had tracked down the victim’s lift made that impossible. How could he justify any delay to Taylor?
He found Stuart Leask at work behind the check-in desk in the ferry terminal at Holmsgarth. He was young and gap-toothed with untamed red hair. The terminal was quiet and echoing. It would be three hours before people would be allowed on to the boat.
‘Do you mind chatting here?’ Stuart said. ‘Only I’m on my own till Chrissie gets back from lunch.’
Perez leaned against the desk. ‘Sandy Wilson said you gave a chap a lift to Biddista the night of the Herring House party. Can you tell me what happened there?’
‘I was just coming off duty and this guy came into the terminal. I mean the
‘What did he look like?’
‘Skinny. Pleasant enough. English. He was wearing black trousers and a black jacket. A bit crumpled, but as if it was supposed to look like that. And bald, but as if that was intentional too.’
‘And did he seem OK in himself? I mean, not distressed or confused.’
‘Not at all. As if it was all a bit of a joke, having missed his lift to Biddista.’
‘He said he’d arranged for someone else to take him?’
‘Aye, he’d booked a taxi but the guy hadn’t turned up.’
‘I still don’t see how you ended up taking him.’
Stuart looked embarrassed. ‘I offered. I know, it was just stupid. Marie, my lass, says I’m just a sucker and people are always taking advantage. But he was a nice guy and I wasn’t doing anything else that night and he paid me what the taxi would have charged.’
‘Did you go straight from here?’
‘Aye, but we had to go and pick up his bag first.’
‘He had a bag with him?’
‘Like a black leather holdall.’
‘Where did you pick him up from? Hotel? B &B?’
Stuart grinned. ‘No. From the Victoria Pier. He was staying on that boat that turns into a theatre,
‘It’s quite a drive out to Biddista. What did you chat about?’
‘He was an interesting man, an actor. He was talking about some of the parts he’d played. Theatre, film. I mean maybe some of it was bullshit, all the people he said he’d met, but you sort of didn’t mind, because he was still entertaining.’
‘Did he say what he was doing in Shetland?’
‘I asked him that. I’d have gone to see him if he was in a play here. But he said he was looking up some old friends.’
‘And all the time he seemed quite rational? He didn’t claim he was feeling unwell?’
‘Nothing like that. He was brilliant company. It was a really easy way to make a few quid.’
‘He definitely took the bag with him? You’re sure he didn’t leave it in your boot?’
‘Absolutely. I thought it was kind of odd.’
‘What was?’ Perez was glad that he’d decided to interview Stuart himself. By now, Taylor would be beside himself with impatience.
‘Well when we got to Biddista I went right up to the jetty to turn round. And I saw the man stick the bag just below the sea wall on the beach. It would have been quite safe there. It was well above the tideline and folks wouldn’t have been able to see it from the road. But it just seemed strange. I mean, if he was going to stay with friends, wouldn’t he have taken the bag with him?’
‘He was going to the exhibition opening at the Herring House,’ Perez said.
‘Still, you’d have thought he’d keep it with him. I’m sure there’d have been somewhere to leave it.’ This detail seemed to fascinate Stuart more than the reason for the man’s death.
‘Did he say where he planned to sleep that night?’
‘I imagined he’d be staying with his friends. He didn’t seem worried at all about getting a lift back to town.’
‘Did he tell you who his friends were?’
‘No, and I asked him. Aggie who runs the post office is a sort of relative. A cousin of my grandmother, something like that. But he just launched into another story, so I never found out.’
‘He must have told you his name,’ Perez said.
