‘Yes.’ Evie still directed her answers to Perez alone. ‘I planned to meet him when he finished at eight. Just for a couple of hours.’
‘Was the plan that you’d go to his house or would he come here?’
‘He’d come here,’ Evie replied. ‘It was almost on his way home. We’d share a meal, talk over the final arrangements for Saturday.’
‘Then he’d go back to Hvidahus?’
‘Yes.’ Her voice was firm. ‘Then he’d go back to Hvidahus.’
‘We’re looking for a motive for his death,’ Perez said. ‘He was a good man. We understand that. Everyone says it. So perhaps he knew something about Jerry Markham’s murder. Knew something or saw something. Did he mention anything of that kind to you?’
‘No.’
But this time she hesitated, and Perez picked up on the pause.
‘Maybe he didn’t talk about it directly. Maybe he seemed concerned, tense, anxious.’
‘The last couple of days he seemed a bit distracted,’ Evie said at last. ‘When we spoke today I asked what he would do for the rest of the morning. He was always a busy man. Not one for sitting around and reading the paper. I thought he might plan to be out in the garden. But he said there were some loose ends he had to tie up. It was as if he had come to a decision.’
Perez weighed the words. ‘Did you ask what he meant? Weren’t you curious?’
‘A little curious,’ she said. ‘I should have asked him. But I thought it might be legal business. He’d talked about writing his will. And I was in a hurry. It was a big day for me. The meeting of the steering group. We talked about that too. Tidal energy and my grand project. John knew how much it meant to me.’
For the first time Willow moved her gaze from Perez and Evie, the stars of the piece, and looked at her parents. They sat side by side, the tea untouched on the table in front of them, their faces rigid, determined to be strong for their daughter.
‘We’ll come through this,’ Jessie said. ‘It seems desperate now, but you’ll come through it.’
Evie turned her head to look at her mother with clear, dry eyes. She said nothing, the silence a sort of reproach.
Perez gave a little cough to pull Evie back to him. She returned her gaze to his face. ‘One last question,’ he said. ‘The loft room in John’s house – did you decorate that? Was it your space?’
Evie gave a little smile. ‘No,’ she said. ‘That was none of my doing. I think he was almost embarrassed by it. The mess and the clutter. Not like John at all.’
‘So it was all Agnes’s stuff?’
‘I suppose it was,’ she said. ‘And he could never bear to get rid of it. A kind of shrine. Though he never said. Perhaps he thought I’d be jealous.’
Chapter Twenty-Four
Perez drove Willow Reeves to her hotel before going home. He still sensed the awkwardness between them and felt an undefined guilt, the idea that somehow he had behaved badly towards her. It wasn’t just disappearing off to Fetlar without letting her know what he was doing, or refusing to break the news of Henderson’s death to Evie; it was insinuating himself into this case, where he had no right to meddle. Except that officially he was still on the team. And she had invited him to be a part of the investigation. And it was on his patch. There was a bubble of resentment along with the confusion.
At the hotel she didn’t immediately leave the car. ‘Do you fancy a nightcap? One drink before you go?’
It was the last thing he fancied, but how could he refuse when he still felt that he’d treated her in a way that wasn’t quite honourable? So he walked with her past the noisy public bar to the residents’ lounge. With its dark-panelled wood and leather armchairs, it had the air of a shabby gentlemen’s club. Standard lamps with dusty parchment shades threw out small pools of light. In one corner two elderly American tourists talked about Shetland ponies and puffins. They shouted and weren’t listening to each other, so would be unlikely to listen in to a conversation at the other end of the room. A middle-aged waitress came to take their order and Willow ordered two malt whiskies, then turned to Perez quickly. ‘That is all right for you?’
‘Sure.’ Now he felt very tired and wanted to get to his bed. He’d had a text from his neighbour to say that Cassie was fine. The girls had a high old time and now they’re both fast asleep. But still he’d have been happier back in Ravenswick, where he’d be closer to her.
‘So, Jimmy,’ Willow said. ‘Where do we go from here?’
He thought for a while. Was this a trick? Was he supposed to defer to her and offer no opinion of his own? ‘Maybe you’d like to talk to Maria Markham?’ he said at last. After all, the woman had asked the question. ‘You’ve not interviewed her yet, and if she was the person Jerry met in the Bonhoga, it’d be interesting to know what they were discussing. Why could they not have their chat at the Ravenswick Hotel?’
‘Why not, indeed?’ Willow was sipping the whisky. ‘And you, Jimmy? Will you be up to working with us again tomorrow?’
That threw him. He’d assumed that he was part of the team now. It hadn’t occurred to him that Willow would expect him to bow out after a couple of days on the investigation. ‘Do you think I’m not up to it?’ he asked.
‘I think you’re sharper than any other detective I’ve worked with,’ she said. ‘But don’t expect me to like it. I don’t enjoy the competition.’
He saw that it was a sort of joke, a compliment, but still it felt like a criticism. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I shouldn’t wander off doing my own thing. And I shouldn’t take over in interviews.’
She smiled. ‘So, tomorrow? I’d like you to interview Andy Belshaw. Like you said before, he links the victims too. And Henderson might have talked to him, if they were mates. Will you head up to Sullom first thing? And I know you’ve phoned Henderson’s boss, but you should see him too.’
‘No problem.’ He swilled the drink round his glass and swallowed the last mouthful. ‘At least, I’d like to take Cassie to school first, if that’s OK, but I could still be in Sullom for nine-thirty.’ He stood up and paused, suddenly anxious, remembering her dig about child-care. ‘That is OK?’
‘Of course.’ There was a silence and for a moment he thought she had more questions. But she stood too, leaned forward and kissed him lightly on the cheek. The touch was routine, two colleagues saying goodnight, but it shocked him and he felt himself blushing. The gesture felt almost like an apology, but why should she feel sorry? ‘Take care, Jimmy. Let me know as soon as you have anything.’ And she wandered off towards the stairs and her room. He stood, frozen for a minute, and then made his way outside.
When he got home it was past midnight. He went to bed and slept better than he had for months, and woke up suddenly to daylight and the sound of gulls fighting, worried that he’d miss getting Cassie to school. But it was only six o’clock. He made tea, listened to Radio 4 and then to Radio Orkney, showered and ate toast. Radio Shetland didn’t broadcast in the morning, and Orkney carried the news of Henderson’s death. No details. ‘The police will make a statement later today.’
When he arrived at Maggie’s house the children were still at breakfast and he drank coffee while he waited for them to finish. Cassie was chatty and giggly, the mischievous girl he remembered from the year before. He drove both girls down the bank to school, and for the first time since Fran had died he left before the children were called in from the playground.
He hadn’t phoned Belshaw in advance. Better to catch him by surprise and, if he happened to be south on business, the trip to the oil terminal wouldn’t be wasted. Perez needed to talk to Joe Sinclair, the harbour master, anyway.
The same security officer was on the gate at Sullom. Still unsmiling and officious.