‘How do you get on with her?’ he asked.
Dawn shrugged. ‘We don’t usually mix in the same circles. She likes to give the impression that she’s rooted in the community, but she’s away a lot of the time. She and Aggie grew up with each other; now she talks to Aggie as if she was some sort of servant when she comes into the post office. Or she’s so patronizing she makes me want to throw up.’
‘I understand tact isn’t really her thing.’
Something in his voice made her realize what he was on about. He saw she was a very bright woman. Nothing would need spelling out. The kids would get away with nothing in her lessons.
‘You’ve heard about her putting me down at the art class then.’
He hoped she wasn’t going to ask who’d told him. ‘All sorts of things come up during the course of an investigation.’
‘She just made herself look a bit daft,’ Dawn said. She turned her back on him and continued talking as she wrote on the whiteboard. He wished he could see her face, judge her reaction to what she was saying. ‘It was an amateur show. A bit of fun. Why did she take the thing so seriously?’
‘Why do you think she did?’
‘God knows. Maybe she’s not as confident as she makes out and she needed to come across as the grand artist by showing us up. Pointless. We all know we’re not in her league.’
‘Do you think she recognized it as your painting?’
She put down the marker pen and turned back to face him. ‘I’m sure she did. I was doing the sketch for it out on the hill one evening after Alice had gone to bed. Suddenly I found she’d come up behind me and was looking over my shoulder.’
‘Did she comment on it then?’
‘Not really. I think she made another put-down comment, like it was nice for me to have a hobby, a break from the family.’ Dawn paused. ‘I know it sounds stupid, but sometimes I wonder if she’s jealous of me. I do have a family. I even usually get on with my mother-in-law. Aggie’s a love, despite what I said just now. Bella must be lonely most of the time, rattling around the Manse on her own.’ She hesitated. ‘I haven’t told anyone here yet, but I found out a couple of weeks ago that I’m pregnant again. I’m thrilled to bits. We’d been trying for a while. So I couldn’t really get worked up about Bella behaving like a spiteful six-year-old in front of my painting.’
‘Congratulations.’ Sarah had been pregnant once. Perez too had been thrilled to bits. Then she’d had a late miscarriage and it had seemed like the end of their world. It had marked the beginning of the end of their marriage.
‘Thanks.’ He saw that she couldn’t help bursting out in a huge grin.
‘Do you think Roddy is a substitute child for Bella?’ he asked.
‘Perhaps. But he’s not much to be proud of, is he?’
‘Lots of people would think so.’
‘He’s a grand musician,’ she said. ‘And he can hold an audience. When you listen to him play it’s easy enough to be taken in by him.’
‘Has he done anything specific to upset you?’
‘Nothing serious. Apart from getting my husband bladdered every time he comes home. The last time was Alice’s birthday, and Martin missed the party.’
Perez wanted to ask if that wasn’t Martin’s responsibility – Roddy Sinclair had hardly tied the man up and poured the drink down his throat – but he found himself a little in awe of Dawn Williamson. It was the pregnancy, he thought, and the fact that she was so untroubled by Bella’s outburst. Besides, what did it have to do with this investigation? A bell rang. The children jostled into the school and formed a chattering queue outside the classroom door.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I don’t think I’ve helped much.’
‘I’m sorry to have disturbed you at work.’
She must have given a sign to the children because they began to file in, blocking the door. He had to wait for a moment until they were all at their desks. He shook hands with the teacher and began to leave.
‘Give my best wishes to Fran,’ she said. ‘She’s a brilliant teacher. I loved the exhibition.’
He wondered how much she knew about their friendship. What had Fran told her?
‘Were you there at the opening?’ He couldn’t remember seeing her.
‘I had a look before most of the people arrived.’
‘Did you see the man who died?’
‘How would I know?’ The children were getting restless. They were expecting the register and assembly. Perhaps that was why Dawn’s answer seemed a little curt. She wanted him gone so she could give her full attention to her work.
‘He was the one who caused the scene by crying.’
‘I must have left before then.’ She reached into the drawer of her desk and brought out the long thin register, opened it, held a pen in her hand. ‘I didn’t see that.’
‘If you were outside and on your way home you might have seen him arrive. Slight, shaved head, dressed in black.’ He was standing at the door to let her know that he was about to go and his words were gabbled to show he was hurrying. It would only take a moment for her to answer this last point.
She stood poised, torn between calling the names of the children and considering his question.
‘I think I did see him. He was getting out of a car.’
‘Was he driving?’
‘No. Someone dropped him off.’
‘Anyone you recognized?’
‘No. It was a young man. The car was pretty old and battered. And no, I didn’t see the number and I don’t know what kind it was. It was white, I think. But mucky.’
She saw he wanted to ask her more, but cut him off. ‘I’m sorry. There’s really nothing else I can tell you. And I have to get on with my work.’
From the corridor he watched her. She smiled at each child as she called out his or her name. Further down the hall other classes were already gathering for assembly. The bearded man was playing the piano. By the time he reached his car the children had begun to sing the first song.
Perez drove back to Biddista. The evening before, Taylor had arranged for a sketch of the murdered man’s face to be released to the national press. Until they had identification, he said, they couldn’t move forward. Perez had taken the comment as a statement of his own incompetence. He should have focused on tracing the victim, not spent two days drinking tea in croft kitchens. Yet now, Taylor was keen to get to know the people in the community too.
Driving west, the sun was behind him and made the driving easy. At least he had something to offer Taylor. A battered white car, which had dropped the victim off. He’d get Sandy on to finding that. If he didn’t know already who it belonged to he would by the end of the day.
The land tilted slightly and Perez had a view down towards the main road from the south and Biddista beyond. He could see all the houses. The three small ones at the jetty, the Manse and Skoles. Already he knew more about these people than he did about his own neighbours. He realized then that he hadn’t yet talked to Kenny’s wife, Edith. She’d been at work when the body had been found and would probably be at work today. It would be something else for Taylor to pull him up about.
Chapter Twenty
Martha lived in a flat over a launderette in a leafy suburb of Huddersfield not far from the Royal Infirmary. She’d lived alone since leaving university, and enjoyed it, but now she wished there was someone at home to share her worries with. Someone to tell her not to be foolish, or to sit with her while she phoned police stations and hospitals. It was Thursday and there was still no word from Jeremy. Tomorrow would be the last day of rehearsals. Tomorrow night – or afternoon if they got their way – the cast would go home for a weekend’s break and on Monday the tour would begin.