solution but had no evidence. He still couldn’t see any way of obtaining sufficient proof to allow an arrest.
He drove back to Lerwick and parked in the lane outside his house. Inside he opened the windows, so the breeze blew the curtains and rattled the doors. A neighbour had the radio on and the sound blew in too. Perez recognized a track from the latest Roddy Sinclair album. He scrambled eggs and made toast and coffee and ate the food with the plate on his lap, perched in the window seat, watching the Bressay ferry make its way across to the island. Then he ran a deep hot bath and lay in the water, almost dozing, letting various scenarios around the case play in his head. He wasn’t usually one for conspiracy theories, but this time he allowed himself to consider the most preposterous ideas. Investigation was all about ‘What if…’ He thought Wilding must play the same games while he was writing his stories.
Before leaving the house he phoned Taylor, using his mobile number because he thought surely by now the man would have left the police station. The Englishman was staying in exactly the same room in the same hotel as in the previous investigation. Perez had picked him up from there once and it had been as tidy as a cubicle in a military barracks. It was hard to believe the bed had been slept in; his clothes were neatly folded. On the dressing table a pen, a brush and a notepad had stood in a precise line. Perez wondered whether Taylor ever relaxed.
Certainly he wasn’t relaxing now, because it was clear from the background sounds that he was still at work.
‘Yes?’
‘Did your friends in West Yorkshire mention finding any photographs in Booth’s house?’ Perez had returned to his seat at the window. ‘Someone was obviously taking pictures that summer because we have the group photo with Bella and the men. I wondered if there were any others.’
There was a silence. Taylor was trying to follow his reasoning. ‘Is there something you’re not telling me, Jimmy?’
Now Perez hesitated. ‘I need to talk to the Williamsons again,’ he said. ‘Then I’m going in to get that swab from Kenny. Do you want to meet me in Biddista later? Or maybe you’d rather get to your bed?’
‘No point,’ Taylor said. ‘I thought winter was bad enough here, but I’d survive that better than these crazy light nights. I know I’ve not been the easiest person to work with on this case. Put it down to being halfway to the Arctic Circle and getting no sleep. If I can track down any photos, I’ll get West Yorkshire to scan them and send them as attachments. I’ll print them out and bring them with me.’
‘Have you managed to track down a recording of the TV documentary?’
‘Apparently Sandy’s mother has one. She taped it because of the Shetland scenes. He’s gone to Whalsay to fetch it, hopes to get the last ferry back.’
‘Good.’
There was a brief hesitation. ‘Jimmy?’
‘Yes?’
‘Doesn’t matter. I wanted to ask your advice about something. But it’ll keep. You need to get off.’
Perez replaced the phone and then realized they hadn’t decided where they should meet. It didn’t matter. Biddista wasn’t such a big place. Taylor would find him, and anyway he wasn’t sure yet where he would be.
When he arrived at the Williamson house, the child was in bed, but all the adults were there. Even Aggie had been brought in from next door. Perez hadn’t been expecting that and wasn’t sure how it would work, but didn’t think he could send her back to her house. He didn’t want to start off the interview with a confrontation. Besides, he needed to talk to her. They sat in a row on the sofa. Martin opened the door to him, then returned to his place.
‘What is all this about, Jimmy? I didn’t have you down as the sort to go in for bully-boy tactics. You shouldn’t have gone to the school and harassed my wife in that way.’
‘I have to ask questions. That’s what I do for a living.’
‘You accused Dawn of knowing who the murderer is.’
‘No,’ Perez said. He hated being thought a bully. There was a pause while he considered if he could have played it any differently, then decided they had to know this was serious. ‘I asked her if she had any idea. That’s rather different. If I
Dawn had been sitting quietly throughout the exchange. Now she spoke. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I overreacted in the school. But this is horrible. The violence going on just outside the door. It was close enough to home already. Now it seems personal, as if it’s come in and become a part of our lives. Is there someone out there who hates everyone who lives in Biddista?’
‘No,’ Perez said. ‘I don’t think it’s that.’
They sat for a moment in silence.
‘What about you, Aggie?’ he asked. ‘Can you tell me what’s been going on?’
She sat very upright in the sofa and shook her head. The rest of her body was frozen and the movement seemed unnatural. It reminded Perez of a mechanical doll.
‘What were you doing fifteen years ago?’
‘I was living in Scalloway with my man, running the hotel and minding Martin here.’
‘Your mother was still living in Biddista then?’
‘Aye, she was still in this house. My father was dead by then. I moved back here when she died.’
‘So you visited quite often?’
‘I was here a lot,’ Aggie said. ‘Somehow I never quite settled in Scalloway. Maybe it was my fault that my husband was the way he was. My heart was never in it – the marriage or the work.’
Perez looked at Martin, expecting some sort of reaction – a defensive comment or an attempt at humour – but there was nothing.
‘What about you, Martin? Did you spend much time in Biddista?’
‘I was a teenager,’ he said. ‘Into hanging around with my mates, football, music. There wasn’t much to bring me to Biddista. And I liked the hotel in Scalloway, talking to the visitors, helping my father in the kitchen. It suited me fine.’
Perez returned his attention to Aggie. ‘Did you keep in touch with Bella too?’
‘Oh, aye. I’d go and visit her at the Manse. She liked to have me as an audience when there was nobody better around. She liked to show off her fancy house and her fancy furniture. Having me there made her realize how much she’d moved on.’
‘You sound quite bitter.’
‘Do I?’ She seemed surprised by the thought. ‘No, I was never jealous of Bella. She wasn’t a contented woman. However much she had, it was never enough for her. And she never had a child of her own. I know she wanted that. Physically, like a craving or an addiction. She talked about it to me. She had all those new friends around her, all those men to admire her, but it was her old pals she confided in. These days having the baby she wanted would be easier. She’d have been able to arrange it. Then things were more old-fashioned and Bella always wanted to do things the traditional Shetland way. You needed a husband before you had a child and Bella couldn’t get herself a husband. Not one who would suit, at least. There were lots of men, all drawn to her, but none of them wanted to marry her or give her a baby.’
‘Did you ever get invited to Bella’s parties?’
‘Not as a guest.’ Aggie smiled. ‘And I wouldn’t have wanted that. I’ve never been easy talking to strangers and Bella’s parties were full of folks I didn’t know. It would have been like the hotel in Scalloway, only worse. I’ve always been kind of shy.’
‘But sometimes you were there?’
‘Aye, sometimes I’d help out. Prepare the food, clear up afterwards.’
‘You worked, skivvying for Bella Sinclair?’ Martin sounded horrified.
‘Well, isn’t that what you do, son, in the Herring House restaurant? And it wasn’t really work. It was just helping out, if I was around.’ Aggie smiled. ‘I didn’t even get paid that often – not a real wage. Bella would bring me back a present from her travels – something pretty I’d never get the chance to use – or she’d put a twenty- pound note in a thank-you card. We’d been at school together. We’d gone our separate ways but we were friends.’
‘What about the other people in the valley?’ Perez asked. ‘Did Bella employ them too?’
