‘Are you in contact with anyone else in the islands?’
‘There was an old man called Magnus Tait. He was a friend of my aunt and he used to phone occasionally after she died. I think he’d recently had the phone installed in his house, and it was like a toy. Maybe he didn’t have anyone else to call. He rang to tell me the cleaning firm had been into Tain and that they’d done a pretty good job. And then to ask if Craig could rent the place from me. I could hardly understand a word he said, but it was kind of sweet. It made me feel a part of a place I’d never even visited. But I haven’t heard from him in several months.’
‘I knew Magnus,’ Perez said. ‘He’s been very ill for a while and he died quite recently.’
‘Oh!’ She sounded genuinely upset. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Did Magnus have a set of keys to Tain?’
‘I think he must have done,’ Sandy Sechrest said. ‘I think he found my aunt’s body, and he phoned me before the solicitor did to tell me that she was dead.’
Perez looked at Willow again and this time she shook her head. She had no more questions for Sandy Sechrest at this point. Perez had covered everything. Now she was already trying to process the information he’d gained. If Sandy had no friends in Shetland, if she’d never visited, if her only contact was by email to her lawyer, it seemed unlikely that she’d been the intended victim of the Tain murder. The most important task now was to track down the man, or men, with whom the impostor had been seen.
Perez was ending the call. He replaced the receiver. Willow grinned at him. ‘Well,’ she said. ‘Now the fun starts.’
They went for lunch in Mareel, walking down the bank from the police station and past the new council offices. The arts centre stood right on the water. Willow thought it was a concrete-and-glass statement of confidence in Shetland’s artistic future. Nothing like this would be considered in the island where she’d been brought up. Since the oil, Shetland seemed to think it was capable of anything. She said as much to Perez.
‘I’m not sure,’ he said. ‘This probably wouldn’t be built here now.’ He seemed lost in thought and didn’t give any further explanation.
In the small downstairs bar they had to wait to be served and, aware that they might be overheard, they waited in silence in the queue. There seemed to be lots of mothers with kids. Jolly young women wearing hand-knitted sweaters, talking about breast-feeding and toddler groups. Willow wondered idly if she would ever be a mother.
She reconsidered the question and this time the possibility hit her with a physical sensation like an electric shock. She was almost surprised Perez hadn’t noticed a change in her, because he had his hand on her elbow, helping her through the crowd, and in her heightened state she thought he must have experienced the jolt too. Perhaps the idea of motherhood had been bubbling just under her consciousness for some time, but now the possibility that she might become a mother struck her with such force that she reeled under the enormity of it. How inconvenient that the notion should surface here, when she was with Perez and in the middle of an investigation! She needed more time to think about it. She couldn’t decide now if the idea would pass or if it would become a compulsion; she only knew that time was sliding by and a decision would have to be made.
They took their drinks upstairs. The space there was almost empty.
‘This is where she was seen in the days before her death,’ Perez said. ‘According to a witness, our mystery woman sat just here sharing a drink with a smartly dressed man.’
‘The same man who picked her up from the Co-op in Brae?’ Willow tried to ignore her hormones and focus on the investigation.
‘That’s my guess. Too much of a coincidence otherwise.’ Perez set his tray on the table. There was a view down to the bar below them. The mothers were gathering up babies and toddlers and making their way outside. Now the talk was of a language class for under-fives, started in the community centre.
I could never do that. I could never make a profession of bringing up my babies. All those websites and discussion groups about education and childcare. They’re surely just for women who miss being at work. Maybe my parents had it right, and all kids need is love, fresh air and a bit of healthy neglect.
‘How did she know to use Alissandra Sechrest’s name?’ Willow watched the women trail away, laden with kids and bags and buggies. The lunchtime rush was over and even the bar downstairs was quiet now. ‘I can see how she could con the house keys out of the lawyers – if she gave her name and a bit of the background, they probably wouldn’t ask to see any formal ID – but very few people here knew who that house belonged to, and she’d have needed that information to start the process.’
‘Perhaps there was something in The Shetland Times.’
‘Would she have had access to that, if she came from the south?’ Willow unscrewed the top from her bottle of mineral water. ‘And why the elaborate charade? Why not just come to the islands and book into a B &B, if she wanted to visit the place?’
The food arrived before Perez had time to answer. It was carried by a young man in a black uniform T-shirt and black jeans. His hair flopped over his forehead and he had a string of studs over an eyebrow. One of the arty kids who’d found a spiritual home in Mareel. Willow thought there had been nowhere like this when she’d been growing up. Her social life had consisted of underage drinking in the only bar in the island, illicit encounters behind the community hall while the old folk danced to fiddles and accordions inside. Perez waited until the young man had slid the tray onto the table and then he spoke.
‘It’s Andy, isn’t it? Jane and Kevin’s lad? I heard you’d come home for a while.’ Perez held out the drawing of the dead woman. ‘Do you recognize her? She had a drink in here. It would have been about a week ago in the evening. She would have been with a middle-aged man.’
Willow watched the young man’s face. It was impassive. No interest and no curiosity. That seemed odd, but perhaps he’d practised being cool and it had become a habit. Andy Hay shook his head. ‘Sorry.’
She expected Perez to push the point, but he only handed over the drawing. ‘Take it with you. Show it to your colleagues. Anyone recognize her, ask them to come and let us know.’
‘Sure. Bye, Jimmy.’
After the meal their plates were cleared by a large young man, wearing the same uniform of black jeans and Mareel shirt as Andy Hay. His face had a slightly grubby look, caused by an incipient beard and adolescent bad skin. His badge gave his name as Ryan.
‘Did Andy show you the drawing?’ Willow pushed her soup bowl towards him. He seemed incapable of energetic movement.
‘What drawing? Andy’s just gone off-shift. I usually work on the ticket desk, but they’re short-staffed so they asked me to help.’ A sniff of resentment. Clearing tables seemed to be beneath him.
‘This drawing.’ Perez pulled out another copy and laid it on the table.
Ryan pulled up a chair and sat with them. Willow thought the Shetland kids displayed the same confidence as the building itself. They’d grown up in a time of plenty, when anything seemed possible.
‘Do you know this woman?’ Perez shifted his chair to make more room. ‘She was having a drink here with a middle-aged guy.’
‘I don’t work in the bar – still at school. I’m on the desk in the lobby at weekends, selling tickets. I’m pretty sure I’ve seen her, though.’
‘Have you not seen her face in the paper, heard the news on Radio Shetland?’
‘I don’t really bother with the paper.’ The boy was unrepentant. ‘Too busy working for Highers.’ A quick grin to show that was only an excuse. The Shetland Times was for his parents. He had his phone and tablet for information.