‘Do you remember anything about the woman’s disappearance?’
Jane shook her head. ‘It was a bad time.’ She caught a sudden glimpse of her past: the panic attacks, the craving and the crippling hangovers and the overwhelming self-pity. She shook her head again to clear the memories from her mind.
‘What did you do last night?’ Willow Reeves was satisfied, it seemed, by Jane’s answer and had moved on.
‘Not much. We had a big Sunday lunch. The family all together and Michael’s girlfriend was here too. After that I only felt like sagging out in front of the television.’ She paused, expecting another question. None came and she felt compelled to fill the silence. ‘I went to bed early. I hadn’t slept well the night before.’
‘Why not?’
‘Oh, my son was late home. You know what it’s like. Even when they’re grown-up, you never stop worrying about them.’ Though Jane thought the detective probably had no idea what it was like to be a parent. It was impossible to imagine the woman with the responsibilities of a baby.
‘Which son?’ The detective had been scribbling notes, but now looked up and gave Jane her full attention.
‘Andy. The big one. He dropped out of uni and has a bar job at Mareel. Sometimes they ask him to stay on for an extra shift.’
‘And that’s what happened on Saturday night?’ Willow Reeves’s voice was deceptively calm, but Jane wasn’t taken in. This was important to the woman. And she would check anything Jane told her, so it was important not to lie.
‘I’m not sure. I assumed that was why he was late. Maybe he just went on to catch up with some friends in town.’ A pause. ‘Why are you interested? Tom Rogerson died on Sunday night.’
‘Did he?’ Willow stared at her.
‘I don’t know!’ Jane felt herself start to panic. ‘Surely someone would have seen the body, if it had been on the beach for a whole day. Can’t you tell when someone died?’
‘Not with any accuracy. You shouldn’t believe what you see in television dramas. Tom was last seen on Sunday morning, though. We don’t have any anxieties about Saturday night. We’re asking everyone involved to account for their movements yesterday.’
‘But we’re not involved!’ Jane’s voice rose almost to a shriek.
Willow smiled. ‘But you are, aren’t you? Even if it’s only a matter of geography. Two people have died very close to where you live. There are no other houses nearby. I’m not suggesting that any of you are killers, but I do think you can help us.’
In the silence that followed they heard the sound of a vehicle on the track outside. Headlights lit up the polytunnels as the car swung into the yard.
‘Are you expecting anyone?’ Willow asked.
Jane shook her head. She couldn’t think who might be visiting, unless Simon Agnew had heard of the death and had arrived to offer comfort and support. That would be his style. But the silhouette that they saw at the door into the house was shorter than Simon’s would have been, and the voice he called in was Shetland.
‘Kev! Are you alright, man? I’ve just heard about Tom Rogerson. Is there anything we can do?’
Willow looked at Jane.
‘That’s Craig Henderson.’ Jane was thinking that if anyone could calm Kevin down, it would be Craig, and in this situation he’d probably be more useful than Simon, who always seemed to delight in a drama. ‘He’s an old friend of my husband’s.’
‘And he used to be a close neighbour.’ It wasn’t a question. The detective seemed almost to be talking at herself. ‘He used to live next door in Tain. We’ve already talked to him about the dead woman. And I’m sure he knew the dead man too.’ She turned to Jane and smiled. ‘That’s the way of islands, isn’t it? So many connections.’
It seemed then that the interview was over, because the detective got to her feet. Jane stood for a moment at the office door.
‘I hope you find the killer. This is too close to home. We all want things back to normal.’
The detective nodded as if she understood.
Standing outside in the corridor, Jane paused for a moment to compose herself. Perhaps the interview hadn’t gone too badly after all. There was still a lot of noise coming from the kitchen. Loud men’s voices, a sudden burst of laughter. It sounded almost like a party. Almost certainly Kevin would have offered Craig a beer or a dram. She couldn’t face it and instead took the stairs to her room.
Chapter Twenty-Six
They met up again in Jimmy Perez’s house in Ravenswick. Nothing was said about the decision to meet there, but everyone knew he liked to be home for Cassie in the evenings. Sandy had become more comfortable in these informal discussions, felt almost as if he belonged with the others now. Willow had gone back to Lerwick to shower and change and had turned up with foil cartons of Chinese food that were keeping warm in Jimmy’s oven. Sandy was the last one to arrive. The fire was burning and Jimmy had lit candles. Sandy wondered what that was all about. This was work, not some kind of dinner party. His mind jumped for a moment to Louisa, who’d said she wanted to invite some of her friends to supper to meet him. He imagined they’d all be very clever people and he was already feeling anxious about it.
As soon as Sandy came in, Jimmy jumped up and started setting plates and cutlery on the table. Whatever conversation he’d been having with Willow in the candlelight seemed to be over. Willow ate her food with the chopsticks they’d sent from the Great Wall, not showing off, but as if that was the most natural thing in the world. Sandy couldn’t help staring at the deft way she caught up the food and got it into her mouth. Once or twice he caught Jimmy staring too.
‘Did you get a chance to talk to Michael Hay when you gave him a lift from school?’ Perez had finished eating.
‘I told him a body had been found on the beach below Tain.’
‘What did he make of that?’
Sandy thought for a moment. He pictured himself back in the car, driving south from Lerwick, the low sun very bright, slanting across the road. The boy had been sitting beside him in the passenger seat, his school rucksack by his feet. He’d seemed like one of those boys who turn into a man at a very young age, with square shoulders, big feet and an already grown-up face.
‘What’s all this about?’ Michael had turned to Sandy. There was something aggressive in the voice, which could have been the result of nervousness. Or just because he was a teenager and that was his way of speaking to everyone.
‘There was another dead body found close to your house.’
‘Whose?’ The question immediate, demanding a swift response.
‘A guy called Tom Rogerson. Do you know him?’
‘I know of him.’
‘A friend of your parents?’
Michael had shrugged. ‘Not as far as I know. I’ve never seen him in the house.’
‘Where were you last night?’
‘At home. I stayed at Gemma’s, my girlfriend’s place, on Saturday night and she came to ours for lunch yesterday. We usually spend the weekends together.’
‘Did Gemma stay over last night?’
‘Nah, she works, and it’s a bit of a trek from Ravenswick to town on a Monday morning. Besides, I had stuff to do for school. I’d be happy enough to leave and start work with my dad, but my mum has a thing about sitting Highers.’ He’d pulled a face and given Sandy a look that suggested he realized the man hadn’t cared much for school work, either.
‘Did you notice anything unusual?’
Michael had shaken his head. ‘I didn’t leave the house much yesterday. It was dreadful weather. More a day for being indoors.’
‘What about when you came down from Lerwick with your girlfriend on Sunday morning? Did you see any cars you didn’t recognize?’
‘I didn’t notice.’ And Michael had stared out of the car window, closing down any further conversation.