'Did Catherine tell you what happened the last time we were here?'
'I don't want to hear,' she said.
'What was it with her?'
'Look: she said. 'I don't care. Not now.'
She leant back against him and felt her eyes begin to close. The knife on his belt was in the small of her back. Not uncomfortable and she was too tired to move. Was it just the drink? Was that what drink did to you, made you want to sleep and forget?
‘Mam was right about her all along: he said. The words seemed to bounce off her skull. What was he trying to say?
She saw she couldn't sleep. She had to listen.
'What do you mean?'
'She said she was a strange girl. No good:
'She was my friend,' Sally said, though it seemed strange to be standing up for Catherine to Robert. Especially to Robert.
'She tried to make a fool of me. I couldn't let her get away with that:
'You didn't have to. She died:
'I liked her,' he said. 'Fancied her. That was what she intended. Mam said that was what she was up to. She was just mucking around with me, she said, trying to get a reaction:
For God's sake, leave your mother out of this. She saw how it would be if they got together permanently. The first sign of trouble and he'd be off to Celia, looking for a shoulder to cry on, depending on her to put everything right. Perhaps it was healthier to hate your mother. Perhaps she should be grateful that Margaret had treated her like shit. Away from the fire there was frost on the shore now. The waves when they retreated left streamers of ice, pale reflections in the moonlight. Dh God, she thought. What a mess.
'She filmed me,' he said.
'She filmed everyone:
'She filmed me hitting her. That night. She got me so wound up that I ended up hitting her, slapped her across the face so there was a red mark. It was what she wanted. It made good film. That's what she said. She had her camera set up on a tripod and provoked me so I forgot it was there. Like I was some performing seaclass="underline" Sally didn't answer.
'Did you hear me?' he demanded.
Sally tried to pull away from him, but he held on to her shoulders.
'Are you going to hit me?' The words seemed to come from someone else's mouth, not hers. She shouldn't taunt him about Catherine. It wasn't his fault. She knew what Catherine was like. And it wouldn't do to make him angry.
'No,' he said. She thought he sounded like a little boy. He could be one of the kids in her mother's school. 'No, of course not:
'Walk away from her: These words though were spoken by a grown-up. They'd been facing the fire and beyond it the water, so they hadn't heard Jimmy Perez coming up behind them. Sally thought he must have moved very quietly over the shingle. He was a quiet man. Even the words, when he repeated them, weren't spoken loudly. They turned together to look at him.
'Your mother wants to speak to you, Robert. Come along:
Robert began to move and she thought, That's it then. Celia has won. Every time Celia shouts for him, he goes running. And she knew she'd probably never see him again. She watched Robert scramble away until he disappeared into the darkness. Further up the beach there were voices, something of a scuffle. She couldn't work out what that was about. She thought Robert wasn't a very elegant mover. He had rather short legs. His bum was too near to the ground. She wondered how she could have thought him worth bothering about. He'd left her his coat, but she shivered and turned back to the fire, feeling it hot and fierce on that side of her face. There'd be a red mark like a slap, she thought. In her hand she held the knife she'd taken from Robert's belt when he'd tried to hold on to her.
'Would you have killed him too?' the policeman asked.
She didn't answer. She angled the knife, so the blade reflected the embers. The blade looked scarlet in the strange red light, as if it was covered in blood already.
'We found Cassie: he said. 'She's all right!
'It was nothing to do with Robert: she said. 'He'd left the back of the van open. Cassie had wandered away from her Mam. I said I'd help her find Mrs Hunter. There was rope in the van. I was in the Girls’ Brigade. I'm good at knots! She paused. When they'd skidded at the Brae junction, she'd heard Cassie bounce around in the back. Robert hadn't noticed.
'Why did you take her?' the detective said. 'You don't have to answer. I shouldn't be talking to you at all without a lawyer, but I wondered. A kid like that. What could she have done to hurt you?'
'She saw me that night with Catherine. She'd woken up. Some nightmare. Saw me through her bedroom window in the moonlight. I convinced her it must have been a dream. Then, when I found her this evening in Lerwick, lost, all upset, I thought I couldn't take a chance. Stupid! But it wasn't only that. It was the girl. You could tell she'd turn out just like Catherine. Confident, full of herself She wouldn't be the sort of child to be bullied, to feel sick every morning before setting off for school. She'd be the one making the clever comments which would turn some other poor kid's stomach. Cocky. Her mother had been right about that.
'Why didn't you kill her straight away?' he asked.
She shrugged. 'I had to wait until it was quiet, didn't I?' Quiet, like the night I killed Catherine. A night like this.
'Was that what the knife was for?'
She shrugged again.
'You've no use for it now: he said. 'Best to give it to me!
She didn't answer. She sat down on the sand and held the knife on her knee. In the distance she heard the sound of cars driving away from the Haa.
The party was over. Robert would go home with Celia.
They deserved each other.
'Sally, give the knife to me!
She thought she might reach him with it before he could stop her. Weighed up the possibility in her head. The thrill of doing it: Would there be the same buzz as when she'd killed Catherine? Perhaps it would be more exciting. She imagined bone shattering and blood, the power of standing and watching his life seeping into the icy sand. There'd be no chance of getting away now, of course.
She'd never thought she would get away with killing Catherine. Not even when they locked up the old man. This was Shetland, where you couldn't fart without the whole place knowing. Anyway, she'd have been disappointed if it had stayed a secret for ever. Imagine her friends at school, their faces when they found out. She'd give anything to be in the house room when the news broke, when her face was on the front of the papers and on the television. She'd be a celebrity.
'Sally. Give it to me.'
She held the bone handle of the knife in her hand, ready to strike out at him, then was overcome by tiredness again.
She stood up, and with the last of her energy, she threw it away from her towards the sea. It twisted in the air, and landed in the shallow water. She didn't see the splash because of the dark, but she heard it.
He walked right up to her, held her hand and pulled her to her feet. It wasn't a rough or unkind gesture. It was as if he was trying to help her. He put his arm round her shoulder and walked with her up the beach. From a distance, they'd look like lovers.
Chapter Forty-Eight
Perez dropped Roy Taylor off at the airport the next morning. Now he was satisfied they had the right person for the Catherine Ross murder, the Englishman didn't want to stay. The restlessness which he'd just about managed to hold in check while the investigation kept his interest was moving him on. Already he was thinking about the next case. He shook Perez's hand warmly before leaving the lounge, but didn't look back as he walked over the tarmac to the Aberdeen plane. Perez waited until the plane took off and almost wished he was on it. He still hadn't made up his mind about the move to the Isle. His mother had given up asking him about it. She'd probably resigned herself to the fact that he wouldn't be coming home.