For the first time that evening Jen seemed to lighten up, to be her old self. ‘Rhona? A brilliant woman to row with, but she’d not tell you what she had for breakfast without a court order. No, she gave nothing away.’
Perez left the house and stood for a moment on the wide decking looking down to the sea. The light had disappeared and it was impossible to make out the individual craft in the marina. He switched on the phone. A number of missed calls from Willow Reeves and a voicemail from Sandy, who sounded desperate. Please get in touch, Jimmy. We think we’ve found the Fiscal.
Chapter Forty-Four
Rhona’s boat was called the Marie-Louise. On Willow Reeves’s instructions, Sandy had called a few friends and asked them to keep an eye out for it. ‘Nothing urgent, but we need the Fiscal’s signature and we’re not sure just where she might be,’ he’d said, keeping his voice light. He thought he’d learned that from Jimmy Perez, the ability not to give away too easily what was in his mind. They didn’t want the Shetland rumour mill labelling Rhona Laing as a murderer! In the end the Marie-Louise had been found at the Hvidahus pier by Joe Sinclair.
Joe had phoned the station and Sandy had taken the call. ‘One of the boys from Delta Marine wanted to look at the Power of Water site and I met him there. I’ve never seen the Marie-Louise at Hvidahus before, and Rhona’s not on board. It’s probably nothing, but it seemed kind of strange that she’d leave the vessel there.’ Sinclair said he’d called the Fiscal’s phone number, wondering if there’d been a problem with the boat and she might need help with it, but there was no reply. Eventually, as the light started to go, he’d grown anxious and had called Sandy Wilson.
‘With so many strange things going on recently,’ he’d said, ‘I thought you should know.’ Then he’d paused. ‘It’s a big tide tonight. Rhona would know that. She wouldn’t leave the Marie-Louise just tied up to the pier, where it might be damaged.’
Sandy’s first impulse had been to call Jimmy Perez, but there was no reply and he’d spoken to Willow Reeves instead. He was no good at taking decisions for himself. Willow had thrown the question back to him. ‘What do you think, Sandy? Will you go? I’m still waiting for the accountant to get back to me, with the information about the Power of Water co-op.’
He’d sensed from her tone that she wanted him to check it out. And Sandy remembered Perez slowing the car each time they passed the Old Schoolhouse in Aith, showing his concern about the woman. ‘Aye,’ he’d said at last. ‘I think it’s worth a look.’ He’d thought that there was that good fish-and-chip shop in Brae and he could call in there on his way home. It felt as if he hadn’t eaten proper hot food in weeks.
Perez must have picked up the voicemail, because he arrived at Hvidahus at the same time as Sandy. Sandy recognized his car, driving down the bank towards the water ahead of him, and felt a dizzying sense of relief. Jimmy Perez, not quite himself and a little bit mad, was better than no Jimmy Perez at all. In the big white house where the Walshes lived the curtains were drawn.
There was no natural light at all left now, and the grey drizzle formed a halo around the one street light at the pier. Perez opened his boot and brought out a torch, then walked over to meet Sandy. Joe Sinclair had disappeared. Sandy imagined the harbour master, warm and fed, watching television with his wife, with a can of beer in one hand.
‘So what do you think has happened here, Sandy?’ The inspector was already walking quickly along the stone pier towards the boat. Sandy had hoped that Perez would tell him, but now he was forced to consider the matter. He hurried after the inspector.
‘Maybe she’s done a runner? She thought we’d be watching out for her car and brought the boat here, arranged for a taxi to meet her perhaps, then went south to the airport. It’s pure chance that Joe Sinclair came along.’
Perez had reached the mooring of the Marie-Louise and stopped suddenly. ‘Is that what Willow Reeves thinks?’
‘She thought right from the beginning that Rhona was involved in this case.’ The pier was wet and Sandy walked slowly. The last thing he wanted was to slip and end up in the freezing water.
‘So she did,’ Perez said. ‘And it looks as if she was right all along.’
It sounded as if he was talking to himself and Sandy didn’t like to ask what he meant.
Perez shone his torch towards the vessel and then stepped aboard onto the narrow deck in the bow. Sandy stayed where he was. It might be a fancy yacht, but still there wasn’t much room and, if the boat turned out to have been used in a crime, the last thing the CSIs would want would be his feet all over it. Perez stood for a moment. He seemed to be listening. His dark face was caught in the torchlight and looked all shadows. Then, without a word, he disappeared below. For a moment all Sandy could hear was the water against the jetty and the wind making the wires sing. Torchlight seeped through the hatch. He wanted to shout to Perez: Well? What have you found? But the inspector had never liked it when Sandy was impatient, so he stood feeling the damp on his skin and reaching through to his bones. And feeling tense, he had to admit. He’d never been good at waiting.
At last Perez emerged from below. He stood with only his head and shoulders visible.
‘It’s clean,’ he said, ‘as far as I can tell.’
‘No sign of the Fiscal?’ Sandy felt a bit ridiculous now. He realized he’d been scared that there might be a body. Rhona Laing stabbed, like John Henderson. Blood and guts spilled over a cabin. He’d never liked blood, even though he’d grown up on a croft and had helped his father to kill the beasts. He gave a little giggle to hide his relief.
‘No.’ It was hard to tell what Perez made of that.
‘So we should tell Willow Reeves to check with Sumburgh and the NorthLink?’ Sandy was wondering if Perez might fancy fish and chips too. Cassie was staying at her father’s tonight, so he wouldn’t have to rush home. It would be good – the two of them having a sit-down fish supper.
‘That would be a start.’ Perez climbed out of the hatch now and jumped out onto the pier. Sandy couldn’t see his face clearly, but could tell from his voice that he was frowning. ‘Willow Reeves was right about one thing,’ Perez went on. ‘Rhona Laing wasn’t telling us the truth.’ He strode away towards his car.
‘Where are you going?’
Perez paused for a moment, the car door already open. ‘To look for her.’ As if Sandy had asked the daftest question in the world. ‘In John Henderson’s house.’
Sandy went to the passenger door. It was just a short ride up the bank. He could collect his car later.
‘Not you,’ Perez said.
Sandy felt as if he’d been slapped. ‘What do you want me to do?’
‘Tell Willow to check on Evie Watt. Where is she? Is she OK?’ He paused. ‘And then head off to the Ravenswick Hotel. I need you to talk to Maria. This is what I want you to ask.’ Then he gave Sandy three questions and made him repeat them several times, until he was sure Sandy had got them exactly right.
Willow asked Sandy to call into the police station on his way south to Ravenswick. He knew that his phone call to her from Hvidahus had been garbled. He thought it was unfair of Jimmy Perez to rush off to John Henderson’s place all on his own, leaving him to explain to Willow Reeves what was going on. He drove as fast as he could down the island, breaking the speed limit all the way.
He could tell she was furious as soon as he knocked at her office door, and her first words were a giveaway. ‘So, what the fuck’s going on, Sandy? Has Jimmy lost the plot altogether, do you think? Should we be calling for the men in white coats?’