And Taylor did pick up his mobile after the second ring, and his voice was as strong as it always was, the accent deepened somehow over the phone. Perez explained as best he could, realizing that he was stuttering slightly. ‘There’s a photo,’ he said. ‘It’s interesting. It would wait until the morning but you’d be welcome to come over if you like. You know where Fran lives.’
A moment of hesitation. Perez was preparing himself for a rebuff. Then Taylor’s voice came again, stronger than ever. ‘I’ll be there. Half an hour.’ Another pause. ‘Thanks.’
Fran took herself to bed before Taylor arrived. She set out a plate of food for them – cheese and oatcakes and a tin with home-made biscuits.
‘There’s no need for that.’ Perez reached out and touched her hand.
‘I think I’ve been in Shetland long enough to know how to behave with visitors.’
He heard her move around the bedroom, pictured her taking off clothes, pulling out the long earrings, reaching behind her head to unclip her bead necklace. Then she stood at the door in a long white cotton nightdress he’d never seen before.
‘I’ll be asleep before you come in,’ she said. ‘Sorry.’
‘My fault. I shouldn’t have asked Taylor.’
He thought this was a crazy way to begin a relationship. They floated into each other’s lives when they were too exhausted to make sense. Ghosts passing in the white nights. Sarah would never have put up with it. She’d wanted more of his attention and his energy. Fran, surely, would tire of his preoccupation with work in the end. But then, as she’d explained, she had her own obsession too, with her art.
He most have dozed off because he didn’t hear Taylor’s car, only a tap at the door. Outside, the darkest of the night had passed. The grey light in the east showed the black silhouette of Raven’s Head. He filled a kettle and made coffee. They started talking in whispers. Perez set Bella’s photograph on the table.
‘See the masks,’ he said.
Taylor frowned. ‘So that was significant. A message?’
‘Perhaps. But who from? Booth, who wore it to hand out his flyers? Or the murderer?’
They considered this for a moment in silence, reached no conclusion.
‘Is that Jeremy Booth, do you think?’ Perez asked. ‘It looks like him to me and Bella seemed sure. I’d already checked dates with the management of the theatre ship and that was the summer he was here. I’m not sure we’ll ever be able to prove how they met unless she tells us. Perhaps she went to the show. They cater for a family audience. Roddy wasn’t staying with her then but she spent a lot of time with him. It’s the sort of thing a doting aunt would do, take her nephew to the theatre for a treat. And I can imagine her sweeping all the cast back with her to Biddista. For dinner or a few days at the end of the run.’ He thought of Lucy, the young actress. He could see that they would want to celebrate the end of a show. All those nerves. All that excitement. ‘And she told Fran that she hired the masks from the theatre company. Another connection.’
‘We can show the photo to the theatre management,’ Taylor said. ‘Perhaps they can identify the other people there. We can chase that up, confirm Booth’s presence.’
‘That’s definitely Wilding.’ Perez pointed to the dark-haired man. ‘He hasn’t changed as much as Booth.’
‘So Bella Sinclair’s been lying?’
Perez shrugged. ‘Or she’d genuinely forgotten. She didn’t have to tell Fran about that summer. Why would she if she has things to hide?’
‘
His voice rose. Perez imagined Cassie stumbling into the room, woken by the noise.
They continued the conversation outside, the food on the white bench between them, fresh mugs of coffee at their feet. It was still chill and they sat huddled in their coats.
‘So what happened that summer?’ Taylor demanded. ‘Why have two people died?’
‘There was a murder.’ Perez was quite certain about that. ‘The bones at the bottom of the Pit. It would be good if we could date them. Any chance, do you think?’
‘Not sure. We should get an ID eventually. A DNA match from a relative maybe. And the teeth will help.’
‘Oh I think I know who it was,’ Perez said. ‘Lawrence Thomson disappeared that summer. He told Bella he was leaving the islands, but he’s never been heard of since. If you listen to Kenny you’d think his big brother was a saint, but he had a record of fighting.’ He’d checked that too.
‘What are you thinking? Too much drink and a brawl that got out of hand and they tipped the body down the Pit? Then they all agreed to keep quiet about it?’
‘Perhaps.’ Perez could see that might have happened. It would be a heady mix. An unusually warm summer. The excitement of new and exotic strangers in the community. All the men showing off for Bella. The tribal hostility between incomer and outsider. Then a pact of silence.
‘So what’s changed? They’d got away with it. Even if those bones had been found now, people would have thought they’d been washed in from the sea. Some old dead sailor. Without the other deaths we wouldn’t have given them a thought.’
‘Perhaps someone got greedy,’ Perez said.
‘Blackmail?’
‘Maybe.’
‘I can see Jeremy Booth trying it on. He was a bit of a chancer. But again, why now? He’d always had money problems, but I’ve had a look at the company figures. It was solvent. Just. He’d recently found his daughter again. Why risk all that? And I can’t believe Roddy Sinclair was short of a few bob. He’d not need to resort to blackmail.’
‘Perhaps Wilding coming back triggered the series of events,’ Perez said. ‘His arrival’s the one thing that’s changed in Biddista recently.’
‘You’re right. And he was at the opening of the exhibition at the Herring House, when Booth played his stunt.’ He paused. ‘What was that about anyway? A warning? A threat? Did the flyer he was handing around talking about a death in the family refer to the poor sod we found in the pit? Only Lawrence wasn’t family, was he?’
‘Not quite.’ Perez paused. ‘Roddy’s father died later that summer. He was Bella’s brother. It would be a death in the family. But he had cancer. We know there was nothing suspicious about his death. We’ve seen where the body was buried in the graveyard just up the coast from the Herring House. My father was a kind of relative and went off Fair Isle to the funeral.’ He’d only just remembered that. His father in his black suit, flying out with Loganair. Some memories did stay hidden and it just took a trigger to resurrect them. He felt more at ease with Taylor than he had since he’d collected him from the plane in Sumburgh. Perhaps that’s why he said, out of the blue, ‘I was quite glad to see him go for a few days. It gave us a bit of peace. Strange how things were always calmer at home when he wasn’t around.’
‘My dad was an awkward old sod too.’ There was a moment of silence, of shared experience.
‘So what do we do now?’ Taylor stood up. It was four in the morning, yet Perez could see he was eager to be thumping on doors, shouting down phone lines, making things happen. But despite the flash of energy, it was obvious the man was so tired he could hardly stand.
‘We sleep,’ Perez said. ‘You can’t drive back to the hotel. Stay on the sofa. Fran won’t mind.’ He’d built a few bridges this evening. He and Fran understood each other better too. ‘Later we’ll talk to Wilding, find out why he lied to us.’
‘You talk to Wilding,’ Taylor said. ‘We don’t want to go in too heavy. That’s what you’re good at, making people believe you’re a friend. People like you.’
Not Wilding, Perez thought. He doesn’t like me. But he nodded. He was glad of the chance to talk to Wilding alone.
Chapter Thirty-eight
Perez phoned Wilding in the morning to arrange a visit. He thought a formal appointment might increase the pressure on the man. It might give the writer time to prepare a story, but while he was waiting for Perez to arrive,
