Part 8 (1/2)

'No, I wasn't on duty just then.'

'Could I get to talk to someone who did?'

The purser looked at his watch and sighed.

Perez sat where he was and said nothing.

The purser stood up and gestured for Perez to follow him. An elderly couple leaned against the rail on the upper deck looking out at the town. The mist was already starting to clear, so at least there was something to look at. They were thin and brown and they were holding hands.

'Honeymooners,' the purser said as they approached. 'You'd think at their age they'd have more sense.' His tone changed when they were within earshot. 'Come and meet Dr and Mrs Halliday, inspector. I think they might be able to help you.' For the first time since Perez had entered his office he smiled.

Perez found the sudden transformation in his att.i.tude and body language disturbing. But this was the man doing his job. It was all about playing a role.

The Hallidays were from Phoenix, Arizona. They were collectors of contemporary art. They even owned a small Bella Sinclair. 'We were so disappointed that the exhibition opening was cancelled, inspector. George here had fixed up a taxi to take us and bring us back.'

'Can you describe the man who gave you the flyer?'

The couple looked at each other. 'It would be helpful,' Perez said. He wondered why they hesitated.

'I guess it's hard to say,' the man said, 'because of the fancy dress. That was all I noticed.'

'Fancy dress?'

'Well, yes. He was dressed like a clown. Not the sort with a red nose and bright clothes. This one was all in black and white. Cla.s.sy, you know. Like something from the commedia dell'arte.'

'Was he wearing a mask?'

'That's right. A mask. I remember because our kids always used to find them kind of scary.'

By the time Perez reached the police station, the sun was s.h.i.+ning. Taylor had been on the telephone to say that they were already at the airport at Dyce and scheduled on the first available flight out. 'You'll meet me and take me straight to the scene.' No question.

In his office Perez looked at his watch. He only had half an hour before he'd have to set off for Sumburgh. He wandered into the incident room. Sandy was on the phone and didn't notice him. It was clear that this was a personal conversation with one of Sandy's Whalsay friends. There were arrangements to meet for drinks, gossip about some woman. Perez reached over and cut the connection. Sandy began to splutter indignantly, then stopped.

'Not enough work, Sandy? That's fine then, because there's something I'd like you to do for me. A guy dressed as a clown was handing out flyers at Morrison's Dock the day before yesterday to all the pa.s.sengers coming off the cruise s.h.i.+p. Someone else must have seen him. Go and talk to anyone who was working there. Did anyone chat to him? Find out who he was and where he was staying.'

'You think he's our victim?'

'Two strange men dressed as clowns in Shetland on the same day? A bit of a coincidence, wouldn't you think?'

Sandy looked sheepish and grinned. 'Someone phoned for you,' he said. 'Kenny Thomson.'

'What did he want?'

'I don't know. He wouldn't speak to me. Nothing that won't wait. He said it wasn't urgent.'

So Perez left without phoning Kenny back, allowing more time than he needed for the drive south, thinking he could make the call from his mobile while he was hanging round at the airport. He had to drive right past Fran's house on the way to Sumburgh. He saw her silhouette in the window of the bedroom she used as a studio. She was working. He imagined her standing in front of her easel, frowning, oblivious of everything going on around her. She said her work was all about concentration. Sometimes she spent all day on a piece, not even stopping to eat. He admired her pa.s.sion, but he didn't quite understand it. He couldn't concentrate for more than twenty minutes at a time without wanting coffee, contact, the feedback of other people.

He speeded up and carried on down the road. Sumburgh was crowded with people who'd been trapped in Shetland by the fog. There was compet.i.tion for places on the first plane south and some of the pa.s.sengers were irritable. There was an English family: a man and a woman, a toddler in a buggy, a baby in a sling. 'What sort of place is this?' the woman said. Her voice was too loud, she needed other people to hear her. 'A bit of mist and everything grinds to a stop. If this is your idea of an adventurous holiday, Charles, you can keep it. Next year we're going back to Tuscany.'

As she set down a piece of charcoal, Fran caught a glimpse of Perez's car driving past. She paused for a moment, half expecting him to stop, but he drove on. She watched with relief as he continued down the hill. The thought of him had been at the back of her mind all morning, but she didn't want to dwell on it now. She had so little time to work. The school day was short and there were only a few more hours before she would need to collect Ca.s.sie from cla.s.s. She turned back to the sketch, an idea for a larger piece, her head full of colour and shape. Perez was forgotten.

Chapter Fifteen.

Edith had taken a day off work. Kenny was delighted. He liked nothing better than having her at home all day. This was how things had been arranged when his parents had been living here his mother had never gone out to work. And it had been like this when his own children were young. Even when he was working outside it made him happy to know that she was in the house.

Because Edith wasn't in a rush to get off to work, they had breakfast a little later than normal. Edith made the coffee she liked, spooning the grounds into the cafetiere, which she put on the Rayburn to keep warm, and pouring in the water from the kettle slowly and carefully. Kenny thought that later in the afternoon, when he'd finished the neeps and they'd walked on the hill together to look at the sheep, they would make love.

Looking at her standing with her back to him, reaching into the cupboard to fetch down her mug, he thought he would like to take her back to bed with him now. Her hair was still pinned up from her shower, so her neck was bare. She wore jeans which fitted well around her backside. He liked her in jeans so much better than in the smart work clothes. Even in middle age her body was firm.

He went up to her and stroked her neck with fingers which he knew were rough. She turned round and smiled at him, knowing just what he was thinking.

'Not now,' she said. 'You'll have to wait.'

And of course he would have to wait, because in these things women always got their way. They held all the cards. You couldn't force them. He supposed that was how it should be but sometimes he thought it a little unfair.

At the table he watched her eat toast. Wholemeal now, always. She bought the bread from a bakery in Scalloway. She put lots of b.u.t.ter on and it had melted. Some had dripped on to her fingers and she licked them. At first she had been quite unselfconscious, then she saw him watching her. She smiled again and licked the fingers on her other hand very slowly. A game. Now he was quite content to wait until later before he took her to bed. She would play the game for him all day and the antic.i.p.ation would be better than getting what he wanted straight away. The thought of that made him feel a little faint and he didn't catch immediately what she was saying.

'It seems wrong keeping that dead man in the hut for a whole day.'

'The fog kept the police from Inverness from getting in.' The evening before, he'd gone to the bar in Middleton and everyone was talking about it. He'd only stayed for one pint. The pleasure the people took in having a dead body close by seemed unnatural to him. If it was someone they knew they'd have behaved differently, but some people were even telling jokes.

'I thought it was suicide. It seems a lot of fuss about a suicide.'

Kenny didn't know what to say. He thought of the body swinging from the rafter. When he'd told Edith about the dead man she'd been so kind to him and had understood immediately what a shock it had been.

'Oh my dear, you shouldn't have had to see that.'

People died occasionally at the care centre. She said she'd never got used to it, but it seemed to him she took everything in her stride.

'Aggie Watt came here yesterday,' he said now. 'She asked if the body could be Lawrence.'

'It couldn't be,' Edith said. Then, 'Or could it? Surely you'd have recognized your own brother.'

'I'm pretty sure it's not Lawrence, but I'd like to see the man again without the mask. I've been thinking about it.' He'd lain awake a long time in the night, worrying about how Lawrence might have changed over the years, whether he might have made a terrible mistake. He'd thought Edith was awake, but he hadn't told her about his fears, hadn't felt able to tell her before about Aggie's visit. He'd needed to sort out in his own mind what he thought before discussing it with her. 'I wondered if I should ask that Fair Isle man, Jimmy Perez. Would they let me look at him again?'

She thought about it for a moment. 'Yes,' she said. 'I think you should ask him. I don't think for a moment it is Lawrence, but it might set your mind at rest.'

Kenny thought he would phone Perez. He wouldn't wait until the policeman was back at the jetty. He didn't want to see the dead man again there. Lying out in a mortuary somewhere, the mask taken from his face, that would be different. More dignified.

All morning while he was working in the field he caught glimpses of Edith. She'd done a pile of was.h.i.+ng and once the fog lifted she came to hang it out on the line behind the house. He stopped for a moment and watched her, so deft, lifting the sheets from the basket, folding and stretching them and pinning them on the line. He waited for her to turn and wave to him, but she didn't seem to notice he was there. When he went down for his coffee, she had just finished was.h.i.+ng the kitchen floor. She was on her hands and knees on a folded towel, wiping the last corner with a cloth. He stood in the porch in his stockinged feet. Again she must have heard him come in, but she didn't acknowledge his presence until she'd finished. Then she turned and smiled at him.

'Just wait for a minute until it dries.' She was still kneeling at his feet and had to tilt her head to look up at him.