‘I’ve checked,’ Willow said. ‘They don’t all stay in the floatels in Scalloway or Lerwick. A good number give their local address as the new hotel near Sullom.’
‘That might explain what Alison Teal was doing in Brae just before she died.’ Perez seemed to have woken up a bit. He leaned forward across the table. ‘She was there for work.’ He paused and it was if Sandy could see his brain working. ‘Either on her own account, to interview potential clients, or to recruit more girls for the business.’
Sandy remembered visiting the hotel and passing round an image of the dead woman the day after her death. He’d sensed some of the staff had recognized her. Perhaps she’d paid them to let her work there and to keep quiet about it. ‘So we definitely think she was working for Tom Rogerson?’
‘Well, they were certainly connected in some way. We’re pretty sure that Tom collected her from the Co-op that day, aren’t we? He must have known what she was up to.’
There was a moment of silence broken by the wind outside. There was a sudden sharp shower and the rain was blown like gravel on the window, so hard that Sandy thought the glass might smash.
‘They must have kept in touch.’ Willow’s voice was as hard and sharp as the rain. ‘Rogerson and Alison. From that first meeting years ago, when Alison went missing and turned up in the Ravenswick Hotel. It’s the only explanation. And I can’t believe there’s no evidence of that. Even if she didn’t come back to see Rogerson, he must have gone south to meet her. There’ll be hotel receipts, plane, boat and train tickets. She’ll have talked to her family and friends about him.’ She looked round the table. ‘I’ve been onto the prison where Jono, her brother, is being held. Alison’s visited a few times. They lost touch for a while when he first went into the army, but there’s obviously been contact since then. Let’s get him on the phone and find out what he knows.’ She paused for breath. ‘I’ll get on to that.’
Perez seemed about to speak, but she was still issuing her instructions. There seemed to be something different about her today too, but Sandy couldn’t quite work out what it was. Maybe she was slightly more distant with Perez. Perhaps they’d fallen out. ‘Jimmy and Sandy, you go north and visit the Sullom Hotel. Get a couple of guys on Rogerson’s list to talk to you. We know the oil and gas companies have a “one strike and you’re out” policy here in Shetland, so assure them that we’ll be discreet, as long as they come clean with us. If they tell us what was really going on, they won’t lose their jobs.’ She looked around the table. ‘Any questions?’
Perez shook his head and Sandy followed.
‘Then head up to Sullom and bring back some evidence that Alison Teal and Tom Rogerson were working together. That’ll be a start. Without that, this whole theory crumbles to pieces.’
Perez drove north towards Brae, with Sandy in the passenger seat beside him. Sandy had been looking forward to the time they’d have on their own together. It would be like old times, just the two of them, with Jimmy Perez talking through his ideas about the case and Sandy occasionally throwing in some notions of his own. But today Perez drove in silence. The rain and the wind made driving tricky, but even so, Perez still seemed in a world of his own. Sandy thought again that perhaps he and Willow had been arguing about the investigation before he’d arrived at the station that morning.
Perez showed his warrant card at reception and asked to speak to the first man on the list. He was called Stephen Barnes, he was a civil engineer and his home address was in Carlisle.
‘I’m sorry, but he checked out this morning.’ The receptionist was bland and unmoved. His English was perfect, but there was a slight accent. ‘Most of the men on your list checked out on Monday, but he was delayed. A problem at work, I believe.’
Sandy wondered if it was a coincidence that most of the men who were possible clients of Alison Teal had left the islands, once news of her death had been released. Jimmy Perez always said that he didn’t believe in coincidence.
Now Jimmy was replying to the receptionist. He was just as polite, but there was a steely tone to his voice.
‘There are no flights from Scatsta this morning,’ Perez said. Most of the oil- and gas-related flights left from the airfield at Scatsta, very close to the terminals. ‘Not in this dreadful weather. I assume that Mr Barnes is still in the hotel.’
The receptionist stared at the inspector for a moment. Perhaps he was considering the possibility of lying, but at the last moment he seemed to think better of it.
‘You’re quite right, sir. Mr Barnes has vacated his room, but he’s waiting with his colleagues in the lounge for news of his flight. The weather is forecast to clear briefly early this afternoon and there’s also the possibility of a coach to Sumburgh. Would you like me to fetch him for you?’
‘I’d like that very much.’ Perez gave a sudden smile. ‘And I’d like you to find a room for us to talk in private, and to arrange for a tray of coffee to be brought for us.’
The receptionist remained impassive, but he gave a brief nod of his head.
The room they used was a conference space with a huge oval table and twelve matching chairs. Perez sat at the end with a notebook in front of him, as if he was chairing a grand meeting. Even Sandy felt intimidated and he knew it was just a tactic, because Jimmy seldom took notes when he was interviewing; he relied on Sandy to do that.
‘Mr Barnes. Thank you for giving us your time.’ Perez had already offered coffee, which had been curtly declined.
It seemed that Mr Barnes was a senior professional who wasn’t used to being summoned by the police. He was already put out because of the delay to his flight. ‘It’s our wedding anniversary,’ he’d said when he’d arrived in the room. An explanation perhaps for his bad temper. An excuse. ‘I’d planned something rather special for my wife.’
‘We’re very grateful for the delay, although I do see that it’s inconvenient for you. You might prove to be a very useful witness.’ Perez could have been a senior manager himself. Sandy was deeply impressed. ‘We’re investigating two murders. I’m sure you’ve seen the news.’
Barnes muttered something about being too busy to watch television.
‘Your name appears, along with colleagues, on a list. You made a number of payments to a solicitor called Thomas Rogerson. We have evidence to suggest that Mr Rogerson could be charged with living off immoral earnings, were he still alive. You have committed no offence to date, although if you withhold information in such a serious investigation, you would of course be charged.’ Perez paused just long enough for Barnes to take in the implication of the words and then explained them anyway. ‘Your company operates a policy that states that an employee found guilty of any offence will be removed from the islands immediately and dismissed. You signed that contract.’ Another pause, after which the tone was more conciliatory. ‘Of course if you can help us with our enquiries, your company need know nothing about this line of investigation.’
Perez drank coffee, reached out for a mass-produced biscuit and waited.
Barnes was an intelligent man. It didn’t take him long to decide that it was in his interest to cooperate. ‘Tom Rogerson was a lying bastard,’ he said. ‘He told me that there would be no record.’
‘Why don’t we start at the beginning?’ Perez leaned forward. At the other end of the table Sandy turned the page of his notebook so that there was a clean sheet of paper in front of him and marvelled at Perez’s skill.
It seemed that Stephen Barnes had met Tom Rogerson at a social function to celebrate the completion of one stage of the new terminal’s construction. They’d met at the town hall. There’d been speeches, warm fizzy wine and oatcakes with smoked salmon. Barnes had thought Tom was a good chap and when the solicitor had suggested they go back to his house for a ‘proper’ drink, he’d agreed.