thought, even of killing a harmless old woman. He was capable of it himself.
Perez got out of bed and went to the kitchen to make tea. It was too early for the heating to have come on and the house was cold. He imagined the damp seeping in through the stone walls, could almost smell it. He opened the curtains and sat in the window seat looking out at the harbour, drinking coffee. Eventually he came to a decision and set off for the ferry terminal.
Paul Berglund was one of the last passengers off the Aberdeen ferry. If the archaeologist had left earlier Perez might have missed him. Some people ignored the bright voice on the PA system announcing the arrival of the NorthLink to Lerwick, they stayed in their bunks and had breakfast in the cafeteria before making their way ashore. Berglund sauntered down the gangplank almost as soon as Perez arrived. Perez wasn’t sure what he would have done if Berglund hadn’t disembarked now. Would he have waited in the cavernous terminal until the stragglers emerged? How could he justify that?
Berglund could have been a squaddie home on leave. His hair was cropped and he carried about him the sense that he could look after himself in a fight. That at least was how he came across to Perez. It seemed an odd image and Perez thought he shouldn’t make up his mind about the man without knowing him. He had no reason to think of Berglund as an aggressive man. The academic was wearing jeans and a Gore-Tex jacket, heavy trainers. He carried a small rucksack, in one of its pockets was a small archaeologists’ trowel and in the other a big knife in a sheath. Perez supposed they were tools of the trade. He wondered what excuse he could give for being here to meet Berglund. It seemed a disproportionate gesture.
‘Mr Berglund.’ As soon as he spoke he realized he’d got the title wrong. Berglund was a professor. But Berglund stopped and turned slowly, curious but not offended. At first he didn’t recognize Perez and seemed confused. Not far away a family was welcoming back a young man, a student, and there was a lot of noise. Everyone was there – both parents and a couple of children. The returning teenager seemed embarrassed by the attention, the hugs and the shrieking voices.
‘I’m sorry to trouble you,’ Perez said. ‘I wonder if I could have a few words. It won’t take long. It’ll save me a trip to Whalsay.’
Now Berglund did recognize him. ‘Of course: you’re the detective.’ A pause and a frown. ‘What’s happened now?’
It seemed a strange question. Perez wanted to ask,
They had breakfast together in a small and steamy cafe by the harbour. Bacon rolls and tea in thick china mugs. There was nobody to overhear them. Berglund shrugged off his heavy coat and Perez saw he was wearing a hand-knitted sweater in a pattern he didn’t recognize.
‘That’s not Shetland, is it?’ Small-talk because he wasn’t quite sure how to begin.
If the archaeologist was surprised by the question it didn’t show. ‘No, my grandmother’s a great knitter.’
The pattern of the sweater and the name made Perez think Berglund’s family must be Scandinavian.
At first he seemed nervous, almost jumpy. Perhaps it was just a natural reaction to being questioned by the police. He talked too much about the dig at Lindby and the find of coins the girls had made. ‘Hattie will be pleased. It’s her commitment that set the project going. She’s a strange young woman. Obsessive. There are times when I worry about her. I hope this will take the pressure off a bit. She doesn’t need to justify herself now.’
It was warm in the cafe. The condensation on the window meant there was no view outside.
‘Have you known Hattie long?’ It had come into his mind. Of course it had no relevance to the inquiry, but perhaps he could form a proper question while Berglund answered.
Berglund considered for a moment. ‘I’ve been supervising her since the beginning of her project.’
Was that a real answer? But Perez thought he couldn’t justify following it up. Berglund’s personal life was none of his business.
‘How did you get on with Jemima Wilson? I take it you knew her?’
‘She was a joy,’ Berglund said. ‘So many landowners can be a real pain. They don’t want the hassle or the disruption of a dig. Or they expect compensation. Mima loved having the girls at her place. I think she was glad of the company.’
‘Even though she had her family close by?’
‘They’re all men.’ Berglund was beginning to relax. He’d eaten half his bacon roll, almost finished the tea. ‘She had a son and two grandsons. Not quite the same. She told me once that she’d always wanted daughters.’
‘It seems an odd kind of thing to say to a stranger.’
‘I called round one evening with a bottle of Scotch to thank her for her help. We had a few drinks and we started chatting. We got on surprisingly well. I had the feeling that if I’d been thirty years older she’d have seduced me. She must have been wicked when she was young.’
‘She has a daughter-in-law,’ Perez said.
‘Ah, that’s not at all the same, apparently. I have the impression that Mima had never really taken to Evelyn. Perhaps that’s always the way with mothers and sons. I’m an only child and sometimes I think my mother was always faintly disappointed that I felt the need of a wife at all. She should have been enough for me.’
‘Did Mima ever tell you what she had against Evelyn?’
‘Evelyn won’t let Joseph be himself. I think that was the essence of it.’ Berglund drank the dregs of his tea. ‘All the man wants is his croft and his friends. A beer or a few drams in the evening. A good dance once in a while with a band to play. Evelyn was interested in making him an important man in the community.’
‘Evelyn’s an important woman in her own right, isn’t she? I had the impression that she’d supported your project, and according to Sandy she’s managed to bring funds for other community events into Whalsay.’
‘Oh, I’ve got nothing against the woman. She’s been helpful to us.’
‘What else did Mima say about her?’
‘What is this about, inspector? It’s just gossip.’ But he grinned and continued without waiting for an answer. ‘Mima thought Evelyn was spending all Joseph’s money. “Why on earth does she want a bigger kitchen? What’s wrong with the old one? She’ll bankrupt the lot of us.” That sort of thing.’
‘When did you last see Mima?’
‘The afternoon before she died. Late afternoon, after the girls had gone back to the Bod. The weather was so bad that they’d left early. I was planning to leave on the first ferry the following day so I went to say goodbye. She made me tea, cut us each a slice from one of Evelyn’s cakes then got out the whisky. To keep out the cold, she said, though it was always warm enough in her kitchen.’
‘How did she seem?’
Berglund looked up sharply. ‘What possible relevance could her state of mind have if she was killed in an accident?’
‘We have to rule out all the other possibilities.’ Again Perez thought how unconvincing he must sound.
‘She wasn’t suicidal, if that’s what you mean. The idea’s ridiculous. I’ve never met anyone more full of life than Mima Wilson. She’d want to stay around just to cause mischief.’
‘Can you remember what you discussed?’
He frowned. ‘The girls. I told you they’d become like members of the family. She felt very protective of Hattie. “She’s too wrapped up in the work. What she needs is a fine young man to give her something else to think about. Don’t you think so Paul? Bring her a couple of boys up here to help on the dig.” I told her times had changed and young women wanted careers as well as families now. She said Sophie had a bit of spirit about her. She reminded Mima of herself at that age. Fond of a party.’
‘Anything else?’
‘She was going on about Evelyn again. By that time I’d had two whiskies and in the warmth of the kitchen I was finding it hard not to drop off. She said something like, “That woman’s gone too far this time. I’ll have to sort it out. Make sure I arrange things so Joseph doesn’t get hurt.”’
‘Do you know what she was talking about?’
