flapjack, it was more crumbly than he’d been expecting and the oats fell out of his mouth as he spoke. He felt himself blushing, wondered what Perez would think of his clumsiness.
Andrew continued to stare at him then nodded.
‘Did he ever talk to you about it?’
‘They built the yoals the Norwegian men used once they got to their country.’
‘Responsible work,’ Perez said. ‘They’d have known the Norwegians’ lives depended on it.’
Andrew stared at him and nodded again. ‘The Whalsay men took the yoals out into open sea to test them.’
‘It must have been scary, out there in a tiny boat.’
‘They were young,’ Andrew said. ‘Reckless. They thought they’d live for ever. And they were all pals together.’ He stumbled occasionally over a word, but he knew what he wanted to say.
‘Jerry was with them too. Mima’s Jerry.’
‘He was just a boy. More reckless than anyone, my father said.’
‘You’ve heard they found some old bones at Setter?’
This time the silence lasted so long that Sandy thought Andrew hadn’t heard him.
‘They don’t tell me things any more.’
‘The lass from the university found them.’
‘The one that died?’ This time the response was immediate and so sharp that Sandy was surprised. He hadn’t thought Hattie’s death had registered at all with his uncle.
‘She found a skull,’ he said. ‘At least my mother found it while she was working there as a volunteer. Then I believe it was the other one, Sophie, who found some bones.’
There was a pause. Andrew raised a mug of cold coffee to his mouth and slurped it.
‘My boss seems to think the bones could come from that time,’ Sandy said. ‘That they might belong to a Norwegian man. Did your father ever talk about that?’
Now Andrew turned towards Perez. ‘Why do you want to know? Why are you still here if the woman killed herself?’
‘Oh, you understand how it is,’ Perez said. ‘There are forms to fill in, boxes to tick.’
Andrew nodded, apparently reassured. ‘Fishing got that way too in the end.’
‘So did your father talk about the dead Norwegian?’
Another pause. Andrew seemed deep in thought. ‘He mentioned it.’ There was a brief grin, which reminded Sandy of how his uncle had been before the illness. The life and soul of any gathering, a teller of jokes, a dancer. He could fill a room with his laughter. He could drink more than any man on the island and still stay standing. ‘After a few drinks he’d talk about the war.’
‘What did he say?’
‘That he was shit-scared every time he went out to test a yoal. That maybe he owed his life to Jerry Wilson.’
Sandy had a sudden flash of intuition. It was something in Andrew’s voice. ‘Is that why he kept quiet about the dead Norwegian?’
Andrew looked up at him. ‘Has someone been talking?’ Again a reminder of the old Andrew, who had a fearsome temper when he was roused.
‘No.’
‘How would I know? I wasn’t there.’
‘You’ll remember your father’s stories.’
‘Maybe they shouldn’t be told.’
‘Two people have died,’ Sandy said. ‘It has to stop. And folks will go on thinking Ronald shot Mima if we don’t find out what happened.’
‘They’ll soon forget.’
‘Will they?’ Sandy demanded. ‘Will his wife?’
Andrew sat in silence again for so long that Sandy thought Jackie would soon be back from the shop.
‘I only know what my father told me,’ Andrew said at last. ‘I can’t say if it’s true. I think it’s true but I can’t be sure.’
‘I understand that. Old stories. Who knows what to believe?’
‘They say that Jerry Wilson shot a Norwegian lad.’
‘I heard that. It was because he’d betrayed some Shetland boys to the Germans.
‘No,’ Andrew said. ‘That was the story they put about on the island when folks started asking questions. But that wasn’t what happened. Not according to my father.’ Throughout the conversation Andrew’s speech had become more fluent, but now he stopped.
‘So why
‘Because he was Mima’s lover.’ There was a sudden pause. Andrew seemed surprised that he’d spoken the words. He continued in a rush. ‘And one day Jerry found them together. The Norwegian had come into Whalsay to try out one of the new yoals. He was stranded there because of the weather, or because there was a problem with a boat. I don’t know. My father never said that part. Just that Mima had been flirting with him all day and they ended up in bed in the Pier House. Jerry was out in the Lunna House to talk about future operations and he wasn’t expected back. Then he came back and he found them in bed together.’
‘But Jerry went on to marry her.’
‘He didn’t blame her. Not so much at least, though the marriage was never as fantastic as everyone made out. That was what my father said. She was only a girl, too young to understand what she was about. Jerry blamed the Norwegian.’
‘So he took him out and shot him?’
‘That was what my father said. Jerry was never…’ Andrew paused to find the right word, ‘… stable.’
‘And he buried the body at Setter?’ Sandy didn’t get that bit. Why Setter, where Mima and her grandmother lived? Was it to be a constant reminder to his new wife that he wouldn’t be messed with?
‘That was the story.’ Andrew leaned forward and very carefully set his mug on the table. Sandy saw that his hand was shaking. ‘One of the stories.’
Sandy looked at Perez, wondering if he wanted to continue the interview, but the inspector nodded for him to go on.
‘I don’t understand why Mima allowed the dig on her land,’ Sandy said. ‘She must have realized there was a chance the body would be found.’
‘She didn’t know,’ Andrew said. ‘She might have guessed but she didn’t know.’
They heard the sound of Jackie’s car approaching the house. Andrew didn’t register it. Sandy reached out and took another piece of flapjack. This was his breakfast, after all, and he felt he deserved it. Jackie opened the door and came in laden with carrier bags.
‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘I hope you’ve not had such a boring time. Andrew doesn’t have much to say for himself these days.’
Chapter Thirty-three
Berglund had hired a car from Bolt’s in Lerwick. It was still parked outside the Pier House. Perez could see it from his bedroom window. He phoned Bolt’s office and asked how long they expected Berglund to keep it.
‘He’s travelling south on the NorthLink this evening. He’ll drop it off in the car park at the terminal at around four-thirty. That was what we arranged, at least.’
Perez wished he had a reason to keep Berglund in Whalsay, but there was no way he could justify it. It was possible that the Setter project would be abandoned altogether now without Hattie to champion it. Rhona Laing was determined that Hattie’s death was suicide and that the use of Berglund’s knife had no significance. And perhaps she was right. The professor had been on the island when Mima was shot, but what reason could he have for killing an old Whalsay woman? He didn’t even have access to a shotgun as far as Perez knew. Hattie was a
