surely he would be becoming more anxious. He’d have heard by now about the bones in the hole. Even if he hadn’t picked up on the Biddista gossip, a press release had been issued that morning. It was bland and unspecific, but if Wilding had already known there was a body in the Pit, by the time Perez called he’d be quite sure that it had been found.
Taylor had gone out before Perez and Fran woke up. He’d collapsed on the sofa after Perez had forced him inside from the cold dawn. By then they were both shivering but exhilarated. Things were right between them again. Taylor had fallen asleep immediately: Perez had heard the gentle snoring while he was cleaning his teeth. Fran hardly stirred as he climbed in beside her. He didn’t like to wake her. There was an excitement lying next to her, knowing that he wouldn’t touch her and the thought of that, the anticipation, kept him awake for a while. Sexy images spinning in his head as the light behind the blind changed colour from grey to a milky yellow. Then he slept too.
Taylor must have left very quietly, because none of them heard him go. He’d left a note on the kitchen table.
Wilding answered the phone very quickly.
‘Yes?’ As if he’d been expecting a call.
‘It’s Inspector Perez. I wondered if I might come round. There are a few questions…’
There was a moment of silence. This obviously wasn’t the call Wilding had been expecting.
‘I’m afraid it won’t be convenient today, inspector. I’m just on my way out. I’ve bought a property in Buness. I’m on my way over there with a builder to see what needs to be done before it’s habitable.’
‘I can meet you there,’ Perez said. ‘I know the place you mean.’
‘Of course you do, inspector. I should have realized. There are no secrets on Shetland.’ He gave a little laugh. ‘Very well, I’ll see you in my new house. You’ll be my first real visitor. But give me an hour or so to talk to the builder and the plumber. I don’t need the news getting out that I’m being questioned by the police.’ He waited for a response from Perez, an answering laugh perhaps, or a reassurance that of course he wasn’t a suspect, this was just a matter of routine. Perez said nothing. ‘Well,’ Wilding continued awkwardly. ‘I’ll see you there in a little while.’
As Perez replaced the phone Fran came in after dropping Cassie to school. She was flushed from walking up the hill.
‘I’m glad you’re still here,’ she said. ‘I thought you might have gone. I bumped into Magnus at Hillhead and you know how hard it is to get away from him.’
He kissed her to stop her talking and led her back to bed.
Later he made coffee and took it to her. ‘What are your plans for the day?’
‘Work,’ she said. ‘Yours?’
‘Work.’ He considered how much he should tell her. ‘I’m off to see Wilding in his new house.’
‘Be careful,’ she said. ‘He’s kind of creepy. An obsessive, I think. One of those people who’ve never quite grown up, can’t do real relationships, only teenage crushes.’
‘Did he have a crush on you?’
‘On me. On Bella. Maybe on any woman who fits in with his fantasy of the time. I was almost tempted to work on his house, though. It’s a lovely place.’
Driving down the island, Perez tried to separate his prejudice from what he knew about Wilding. He was definitely a writer. Perez had checked on Amazon. Fantasy novels, quirky, funny but with a dark edge. He’d read some of the reviews. And he’d checked other things too. Wilding had spent a short time in the psychiatric unit of his local general hospital after his girlfriend had left him. He’d made a nuisance of himself, had become obsessed with her. Never violent though. Taylor had talked with the officers who’d taken the complaints. The woman hadn’t been frightened by him, just irritated and annoyed. They’d thought him weak and ineffectual, had never believed he’d cause her harm.
Usually that sort of history would have made Perez sympathetic. In his previous job he’d been famous for being soft on nutters. But he couldn’t like Wilding. Perhaps it was the money that repelled him. It was hard to feel sorry for a man who was very rich. One of the articles he’d tracked down on the internet had named the sum paid to Wilding as an advance on his last book. He certainly wouldn’t need to resort to blackmail.
Perez turned off the main road south, crossed the cattle grid and drove along the side of the thin loch that led towards the sea. It was another lovely day. Perhaps it would continue to be a hot dry summer. His thoughts turned to the photo of the group in the Manse garden, the men in smart clothes, Bella in her slinky red dress. Behind them a perfect sky. It had been hot then too. For the first time it hit him that Bella was the only woman in the picture. Of course he’d seen that, but he’d accepted it as natural. In most gatherings, even now that she was older, Bella was surrounded by men.
A white van came down the road in the opposite direction. Perez pulled in to the verge to let it past, waved at the driver. Davy Clouston, the builder Wilding must be using to do up the house. A good choice. Clouston was a fine workman. Not cheap, but reliable. Perez wondered how Wilding had persuaded him out at such short notice.
The writer would be alone in his new house now, ready to greet visitors. He could have arranged to see Perez later in the day at Biddista, but perhaps he’d wanted to show off the impressive building.
The wrought-iron gates had been pushed open so Perez could pull on to the drive. The gravel was so pierced by weeds and flowers that it looked like an alpine garden. He parked in front of the house and saw Wilding standing at the front step. Like an English laird, Perez thought. And he was wearing corduroy trousers and a tweed jacket to complete the picture. The man was beaming. If he had any anxiety about the interview he was hiding it well.
‘Come in,’ he said. ‘I’m so excited that this place is mine. I fell in love with it the minute I saw it. I know it’s dreadful to feel like this when other people are grieving, but I’ve dreamed of having my own place on Shetland since I first saw Bella’s paintings. I never thought I’d get somewhere so delicious.’ He opened the double doors and let Perez into a wide hall. Specks of dust twisted in the sunlight. ‘I’ve brought the essentials,’ he said. ‘Coffee and biscuits, and I’ve arranged for the electricity to be switched on.’
He led Perez into a room, which was empty except for an unidentifiable item of furniture shrouded by a dust- sheet. It wasn’t such a big house, Perez saw now. Two living rooms facing the sea, with a kitchen and bathroom at the back. Probably three bedrooms upstairs. Smaller certainly than the Manse. Wilding was bent over a kettle, which he’d plugged into an ancient socket close to the floor. He spooned coffee into a jug, added the water carefully. ‘You do have it black, don’t you, inspector? You see, I remembered.’ He polished a mug on his shirt and poured the coffee through a fine strainer. ‘The best I can do in the circumstances, but I’m sure you’ll enjoy it. Shall we take it outside, make the most of the weather?’
They sat on a drystone wall looking down over the beach and the flat island at the mouth of the bay.
‘Why didn’t you tell me you’d been to Biddista before?’ Perez looked at the horizon.
‘I’m not sure that you asked.’
‘You didn’t tell Bella that you’d met before, that you’d been a guest in her house?’
‘Well, I thought that might be a little ungallant.’ Wilding turned to Perez and smiled. ‘It might imply that her memory was failing her. Or that I should mean more to her than I obviously do. I thought too that she might prefer to forget that summer.’
‘Why would she want to do that?’
‘It was a rather wild time. Frantic. We all have a little more dignity these days.’
‘How did you come to be there?’
‘She invited me. We met on a train. The sleeper which went then from London to Aberdeen. Perhaps it still does. I was on my way to Dundee to talk at a literary lunch and she was going home. Neither of us had berths booked and we sat up all night drinking and talking. One of those memorable, strange encounters that can change your life. “Come and stay. I love creative people.” She was, still is, so charismatic, don’t you think? I was bewitched. So after the gig in Dundee I went on to Aberdeen and got the ferry north, took her at her word. The old
He turned to Perez and smiled. ‘It was a little humiliating. I turned up on the doorstep with champagne and
