She sat in Jimmy Perez’s office and listened while he made the phone call to New York. They’d decided that Americans probably started work early, and first thing in the working day might be a good time to reach Ms Sechrest’s employer. Perez spoke slowly and moderated his voice so that the accent almost disappeared.
What do I know about him, after all? Who is this man, who can be whatever is needed to get his work done?
‘I’m a police officer from the UK,’ Perez was saying.
Willow couldn’t hear what was said on the other end of the line, but she could guess when Perez said, without a trace of impatience, ‘Well, no, not English, but Scottish. Yes, almost the same thing. I’m based in the Shetland Islands.’ He gave a little laugh and pulled a face at Willow. ‘I need information about someone who I believe works for your company. Her name is Alissandra Sechrest. Yes, of course I’ll hold.’
There was a click on the other end of the line and Perez pressed a button so that the phone was on speaker, and suddenly the room was filled with an American voice: ‘Yes, Sandy Sechrest speaking. How may I help you?’
For a moment Willow was tempted to laugh, because Perez seemed so incredulous. They’d been convinced they’d tracked down the identity of the dead woman, and now it seemed she was alive and well and working in New York. It took him a little while to answer.
‘Excuse me for disturbing you, but I’d be grateful if you could answer a few questions, before I explain. Did you have relatives from Shetland?’
‘One distant relative. An aunt.’ She sounded older than the dead woman. Willow guessed she must be close to retirement. But she was sharp and fiercely intelligent.
‘And she left you property in her will?’
‘She did. A small house in the village of Ravenswick. And I still intend to visit it one day, when things aren’t quite so busy here.’ A pause. ‘What is this about, Officer?’
‘I’m afraid your house was damaged in a landslide this week.’
‘Well, it’s very good of you to notify me. I’ll inform my insurers. If you could email me the details, I won’t need to trouble you further.’ She was about to replace the receiver.
‘Someone died,’ Perez said. ‘A woman. We think she was staying in your house. Do you know anything about that?’
‘No!’ The response was immediate. ‘I gave permission for a man to stay there. He was the friend of an elderly guy who knew my aunt. But he left six months ago. He’d asked if he might use the house again, in return for general maintenance and repairs, and I agreed. He’d have been moving in again in a couple of weeks.’
‘The dead woman was calling herself Alissandra Sechrest,’ Perez said. ‘At least she travelled into the islands using your name and made at least one appointment under it.’
‘And you thought I was dead?’ Sandy Sechrest gave a sharp, barking laugh.
‘It was rather a shock when you came on the phone.’
‘Are you thinking fraud? Identity theft? Just so she had somewhere to stay.’
‘Honestly, I’m not quite sure what I think just now. If I email you a likeness of the dead woman, perhaps you could let me know if you recognize her.’ Perez paused for a moment. ‘Are you aware of any fraud? Money missing from your bank account? Your credit card used without your knowledge? She might even have been using a false passport in your name.’
‘I haven’t noticed anything, but I’ll certainly go back and check.’
Perez looked at Willow and raised his eyebrows to see if she had any questions.
She mouthed: ‘Ask her about the solicitor.’
‘Who looks after your affairs in Shetland, Ms Sechrest?’
‘A firm of lawyers: Rogerson and Taylor. They contacted me about my aunt’s will and asked what my plans were for the property. They arranged to have it cleared of all but big items of furniture; there was nothing of value. A few items of cheap jewellery, which they mailed to me. Apparently there were pictures and photos, but I asked for them to be kept in the house. That was where I felt they belonged. Then they used a contract cleaner to go through the place. My aunt had been elderly and hadn’t been able to look after herself, or her home, so well recently.’
‘Do you remember the name of the cleaning company?’
Perez’s interruption seemed to throw her for a moment, but she answered after a beat. ‘No, but the lawyers should have a record. I was sent an invoice.’
‘And then?’
‘Then I asked them to make sure it was secure and to hang onto the keys until I could get there myself, or make some decision about the place. I’d almost forgotten about it, when I got the phone call from the guy asking if he could rent it. I checked him out with the lawyers’ office and they said he was legit. It made more sense to have someone in the house than have it stand empty.’
‘Can you remember who you talked to at Rogerson and Taylor about allowing a tenant into Tain?’ Willow noticed that Perez had let a trace of Shetland back into his voice.
‘I’m sorry, Officer. I don’t think it was one of the partners. It was a woman. She could even have been someone working on reception. But she said she knew Craig Henderson and that he came from a good family. That was good enough for me. Crazy for the place to stay empty when somebody local needed it.’
Willow thought Sandy Sechrest was a woman who would make decisions easily and then stick to them.
‘And who at the office did you instruct to clean and secure the house?’ Perez said. ‘Was that the same woman?’
‘No, that was definitely one of the lawyers. His name was Paul Taylor.’ She paused, as if waiting for a further question, and when none came immediately she said, ‘If that’s all, Officer, I should be in a meeting.’
‘The woman who died,’ Perez said. ‘She wasn’t killed in the landslide. It wasn’t an accident. She was murdered.’
For the first time Sandy Sechrest seemed to lose her composure. ‘I don’t understand.’
‘She was strangled,’ Perez said. ‘We assume that her body had been left in the house and was swept out when the landslide hit. Otherwise she wouldn’t have been discovered until Craig moved back in.’
‘And she was using my name and pretending to be me.’
‘I have to ask if there’s any reason why someone might want to kill you.’ Perez’s voice was calm and even.
She gave the same barking laugh as when she’d first started talking. It was a smoker’s laugh. Smoking would be her secret vice. ‘Well, I’ve made a few enemies in my career: authors I’ve rejected or dropped, other editors who dislike the fact that I’ve poached their stars. But nobody who hates me enough to want me dead. And nobody who’d cross the Atlantic to do it. Besides, as soon as they saw the woman, they’d realize they’d got the wrong person.’
‘What kind of books do you publish?’
‘We’re a general publisher, but my specialism is non-fiction. Mostly self-help books.’
‘Is Think Yourself to a Better Future one of your titles?’
‘Well, yes, Inspector. One of our big sellers.’ She seemed flattered rather than curious.
‘Would you have sent a copy to your aunt?’
She gave another throaty laugh. ‘I hardly knew she existed and, besides, I don’t think she’d have been interested.’
So what was the Mullion title doing among the dead woman’s possessions?