She’d asked the young officer about phoning Michael. ‘I don’t want my son picking up rumours at school. You know how news spreads here. If he hears there’s a body, he might imagine it’s one of us.’
‘I think perhaps you should ask your son to come home,’ the policeman had said. ‘The boss might want to talk to him.’
‘But Jimmy’s gone.’
‘Not Jimmy Perez.’ The man had seemed a little confused. ‘The boss from Inverness who’s in charge of the case.’
And then the woman from Inverness had floated in like a kind of weird Mary Poppins. Only she’d looked more like one of the hikers that turned up on the NorthLink ferry, with their big boots and heavy rucksacks. She was wearing a long jersey and jeans and her hair was wild.
‘Mrs Hay was wondering if she should contact her youngest son.’ The police officer seemed a little out of his depth and anxious for advice. ‘I thought maybe you’d like to talk to him, so we should get him back.’
‘How old is he?’ The detective turned to Jane and smiled.
‘Sixteen.’
‘Perhaps it would be a good plan to get him home then. No need to wait for the school bus. Sandy Wilson will be driving down from Lerwick. He can give him a lift.’ Then she asked Jane if there was a room they could use, and called Andy in to speak to her, so for Jane the waiting continued.
When Andy emerged from the office, it was impossible to be sure what mood he was in. He just waved at them as he walked past the open kitchen door to his bedroom. Jane thought there could be something manic about the wave, the glittery eyes, the jerky walk, but she was hyper-sensitive at the moment. Perhaps her eldest son wasn’t anxious or excited at all, just bored and wanting some time to himself.
The detective shoved her head round the kitchen door and Jane prepared herself for the interview to come, but the woman turned to Kevin.
‘If you’re ready, Mr Hay, I’ll see you now.’ As if they were patients in a dentist’s waiting room. Then Jane was in the kitchen alone, watching the shadow of the house lengthen until it reached the polytunnels, while the young policeman sat nervously in a corner, picking at his fingernails until she wanted to scream at him to be still. She offered him tea and he accepted – grateful, she thought, to have something to relieve the boredom.
Suddenly there was a flurry of activity. Kevin burst in from the hall, his face red and his fists clenched by his sides. He was furious and she was anxious about what might have triggered the change in mood. He didn’t lose his temper often, but when he did he was terrifying. He simmered and then exploded. She was on her feet to hold him, to try to calm him before the rage overtook him, and at the same time Michael arrived with Sandy Wilson, the young detective from Whalsay. After its previous silence, the room seemed full of people, all talking and asking questions. And then Willow Reeves appeared at the door. She ignored the tension and the raised voices, smiled a greeting to Michael, nodded to Sandy Wilson and asked Jane to follow her. Jane put her hand on Kevin’s arm, a gesture of understanding, a message for him to be calm, and she left the room.
In the office the detective was already seated. ‘You make truly fab coffee.’ A wide smile. ‘Jimmy will be sorry he had to rush off.’
Jane knew this was a tactic – the woman would make her feel at ease and then start to ask the difficult questions. Waiting in the kitchen, Jane had been preparing her answers, but now she wasn’t sure how convincing they would be. She took her seat and waited.
‘How well did you know Tom Rogerson?’ Another bright smile.
This close, Jane could see that the detective had freckles along the line of her cheekbones. Lines around her eyes too, so she must be approaching middle age, but somehow the freckles gave her the look of a schoolgirl.
‘I knew of him,’ Jane said. ‘He was one of those Shetlanders who seem to be on every committee going. And I met him occasionally at social occasions. Charity dos, parties.’
‘But you didn’t know him personally?’ Willow Reeves put great emphasis on the last word. ‘You would never have invited him and his wife to supper, for instance, or gone out for a meal with them?’
Jane shook her head. ‘We were never on those terms.’
‘Only your husband seems to have taken a dislike to him, and I can’t work out why that could be. If he didn’t really know him.’
‘Kevin’s a very black-and-white sort of person. He’ll make up his mind about someone without knowing them at all. Politicians, folk he reads about in the paper…’ Jane stopped herself from rambling further.
The detective nodded as if she, too, knew people like that.
‘This morning,’ she went on, ‘you said Kevin got up to check on the ewes, but it was very early when you found Mr Rogerson’s body. Wouldn’t it still have been dark when he set off? And I wonder why you went after him. I’d be tempted to stay in the warm, a morning like today.’
This was one of the difficult questions Jane had been planning for, but now her practised response seemed incredible. She paused before answering. ‘It was a beautiful morning. After all that rain, it was good to be outside. We wanted to see the sun come up together. You get fantastic sunrises on the east side.’
‘Very romantic.’ The detective sounded sincere, even a little envious, but she continued, ‘If you and your husband spend so much time out on your land, even at this time of year, I do find it very strange that you didn’t realize there was anyone staying at Tain.’
‘I did see someone inside,’ Jane said. ‘I told Jimmy Perez.’
‘You didn’t mention that to Kevin? Because he didn’t seem to know the place was occupied at all when the landslide took place.’
‘I can’t have done.’ She paused. ‘We’re both very busy.’
‘Of course.’ Another wide smile, to put Jane at her ease. ‘Tell me about your mental-health problems.’
‘I’m sorry?’
‘The woman who died at Tain was called Alison Teal. She was an actress, famous for disappearing while she was playing a role in a popular television drama. She was discovered in Shetland, in the Ravenswick Hotel, which is just down the coast from here on the south side of the landslip. Kevin told me he couldn’t remember the publicity surrounding the story because you were very ill at the time.’
Jane wondered if that conversation had made Kevin angry. Perhaps it was being taken back to the past that had caused the clenched fists and the simmering rage. He’d always said that he forgave her for the betrayals and the thoughtlessness of her drinking days. One of the steps of her recovery had been to be honest with him. ‘You were ill,’ he’d told her. ‘Not yourself. Of course we can start again.’
But she’d never been entirely convinced by his reassurance. She knew he needed her; he’d never been much good on his own. Whether he forgave her was another matter altogether.
Now she looked up at the detective. ‘I’m an alcoholic,’ she said. ‘In recovery now, but then my life was completely chaotic. We had two small children and Kevin had to hold things together at the same time as he was expanding the farm. He was magnificent. I’m not surprised he couldn’t remember a news story about an actress from the south.’