'Please.'
'Have you come with information,' Euan asked. 'Or questions?'
'Questions, mostly. We won't have any details from the post mortem until tomorrow.'
'I'm glad she's going south on the ferry,' Euan said. 'She loved the boat and never really enjoyed flying.' He looked up. 'What a foolish thing to say.'
'I don't think so. I prefer the ferry too, going to sleep in one place, waking up somewhere different. It makes you realize how far away from anything we are.'
'I thought she'd be safe here. I did think it was different.' He turned away sharply to make coffee. 'Now, what questions do you have?'
'The officer who searched her room found a handbag, but we've still not found Catherine's house keys. Was it usual for her to go out without them?'
'I'm not sure. I always lock the house. Habit, I suppose. Perhaps she was more careless about it.'
'I've been at school all day, talking to the staff and the students. I spoke to a boy called Jonathan Gale. He gave Catherine a lift home on Hogmanay. Do you know him?'
'I don't teach him, but I know of him. A bright English lad. He's been to the house once or twice. I always thought he had a soft spot for Catherine. You don't think he killed her?'
'Not at all. Just checking out his story.' He paused. 'Does the name Robert Isbister mean anything to you?'
Euan frowned. 'No, should it? There are Isbisters in school, but no Robert, I think.'
'It's probably nothing: Perez said. 'He's older than Catherine, but someone she might have bumped into at parties. I saw him drive up the road just now. I wondered if he'd come to visit you.'
'Some colleagues came earlier in the day. They were very kind, brought food, a casserole of some description. I suppose I should eat it sometime. But since then, no, I've had no visitors.'
He still hadn't taken a seat. He'd poured the coffee and was drinking his where he stood. Perez could tell he was desperate to have the house to himself again, before the elusive scent of his daughter faded altogether.
'That's all then,' he said. 'I'll come back tomorrow when we have some news from the pathologist. Do you have any questions for me?'
He wasn't expecting anything. He thought Euan would see him gratefully and quickly to the door. But the teacher paused, his mug in his hand. 'The old man at Hillhead . . !
'Yes!
'People are saying that he was responsible. That it wasn't the first time. That he'd killed before. . !
'There were rumours. He was never charged, let alone convicted!
'When I first heard it hardly seemed to matter. Catherine's not alive any more. What else is there to care about?
But if it's true, it means that Catherine's death could have been avoided! He looked directly at Perez. Through the spectacles his eyes seemed unnaturally large, staring. 'I would find that unforgivable!
Then carefully he set down his mug and showed Perez to the door.
Perez was sitting in his car, thinking about that, when his phone rang. It was Sandy Wilson from the Incident Room. 'We've had a call from Fran Hunter, that wife who found the body! Wife? When does a woman stop being a girl and become a wife?
'What did she have to say?'
'I don't know. She wouldn't talk to the chap from Inverness who was manning the phone. She'll only speak to you!
Perez ignored the snigger in Sandy's voice. It was automatic, meant nothing. 'When did she ring?'
'Ten minutes ago. She said she'd be in all evening! 'I'm in Ravenswick now. I'll call on my way home!
He knocked quietly because he thought Cassie might be in bed, but she was still up, just as he'd imagined in dressing gown and slippers, sitting at the table. She was drinking hot chocolate and there was a mushroom-coloured moustache on her upper lip. Fran had looked out of the window before opening the door to him.
All over Shetland people would be doing that. Here more than anywhere, he thought, that poem by John Donne they'd had to read in school, was true. One person's death affected them all, made then see the world differently. And perhaps that wasn't a bad thing. Why should they be protected? What made them special?
'I wasn't expecting you just yet: Fran said. 'I hope you didn't rush over here on a wild goose chase. It's probably not important. . . Look, can you wait just a minute, while I sort Cassie out?'
He sat in the big chair, where he'd imagined her sitting. She brought him a glass of red wine, which he knew he should refuse, but didn't, and a slice of cheese and spinach flan. 'I don't suppose you'v e had a chance to eat,' she said, not making a big deal of it.
He heard the two of them chatting, in the bathroom, and singing a silly rhyme about a fox in a box, then the murmured words of a story, which were too soft for him to make out.
'Sorry about that! Suddenly she was behind him and she'd poured her own glass of wine. He realized he'd probably dozed off.
'You wanted to talk to me!
He stood to give up the chair, but she shook her head and sat on the floor, looking into the fire, so he couldn't see her face.
'It's probably nothing. You probably already have the information!
'Tell me anyway!
'Cassie stayed with her father last night. I went to collect her this afternoon! She hesitated. 'I know where Catherine was the night before I saw her get off the bus with Magnus Tait.
Duncan told me!
'He hasn't been in touch,' Perez said, noncommittally, 'not as far as I know!
'He wouldn't. He'd see it as an inconvenience. Having to go into Lerwick, maybe make a statement. That's what he's like. Always busy. Always hustling!
'We've only put out a general request for information so far,' Perez said. 'There'll be a big press conference tomorrow. Everything takes much longer to organize than people realize!
'She was at a party at the Haa. One of Duncan's open houses. Half of Shetland will have been there. You'll be able to confirm it.'
Perez had been to Duncan's parties. They were legendary. No invitations, nothing formal ever. Word would get out. A do at the Haa tonight. The parties never got going until late. When the bars started to think about closing, then you'd get a taxi, or a friend not quite as pissed as everyone else, and drive up the island. You never knew who you were going to see there. Often musicians.
Duncan liked to encourage local talent. That was how he described it, though Perez was never sure what the kids with their fiddles and guitars got out of the event beside a hangover and a sense that they'd brushed against celebrity. Because occasionally you'd bump into a minor star as you passed round Duncan's bottle of Highland Park.
An actor on holiday, or a politician up for some conference, a small time director or producer only the arty set had ever heard of. Duncan liked to encourage the arty set. And sophistication.
Perhaps that's what the kids felt they got out of it. The guests dressed differently, talked about different things.
It wasn't like going to a dance in the village hall.
'Did Duncan say who she was with?'
'He didn't seem to know. I think he was even more out of it than usual. He'd had a row with Celia!
Celia Isbister. Robert's mother. That was the way things worked in Shetland. It wasn't necessarily significant.
People were related in complicated and intimate ways. Coincidence couldn't be allowed to appear sinister.