Part 24 (1/2)

'Where did she know him from?'

'Shetland. Biddista. One summer she seems to have run a sort of artists' commune in the Manse. He turned up and stayed. I don't think she can remember how she came to invite him, only that he was there. And that he was an actor with a fondness for practical jokes.'

'When was that?'

'About fifteen years ago. That was what she said, but she was very vague about the details.'

'Why would he have wanted to spoil the opening of her exhibition after all this time? Does she know?'

'He'd told her he was in love with her, apparently! But she hadn't heard from him since then. She said she didn't recognize him on the night of the exhibition.'

'Are you sure? It seems a bit odd, memories of that summer only coming back to her now.'

'Bella is a bit odd, don't you think? Especially now, with Roddy gone. She told me she'd put that summer out of her mind I suppose because it was when Lawrence left. I'm not sure. I think she's reliving happier times now when Roddy was a child and former glories. All those men besotted with her. It's an escape from the grief.'

'But n.o.body else in Biddista remembers Booth.'

'It was fifteen years ago. That summer strange people were coming and going to the Manse all the time. I'd have been astonished if anyone had recognized him.'

He was surprised that he didn't feel more tired. Driving to her house, his mind had been clear, as if the evening was just beginning, as if he'd just finished a normal day's work. 'Would you mind if I had a drink?' he asked.

'Of course. What would you like? Wine, beer whisky?'

'White wine please.' The drink of summer afternoons. He imagined the house party at the Manse all those years ago. Bella's guests would have been sitting in the garden drinking chilled white wine, talking painting and politics.

'That wasn't all Bella said.' Fran must already have had a bottle of wine open in the fridge. She poured a gla.s.s for them both. 'She thinks Peter Wilding was there that summer too.'

'Is the woman mad? Playing some sort of crazy game?'

'Really,' Fran said, 'I don't think so.'

'It's so fanciful. Suddenly all these people who seemed unrelated turn out to have been in the same house at the same time. And Bella, who claimed not to know them, remembers as if by magic.'

'I know,' Fran said. 'But I do understand what she's saying. She's been so caught up in the present that she's had no reason to revisit those days. You know how self-absorbed she is. I understand what it's like when I'm working. The art is all I think about really, even when I'm reading a story to Ca.s.sie, even when I'm spending time with you, it's at the back of my mind. You're the same when you're working on a big case. She had no reason to think about the past. Now her memories of those times have become very clear. It's her way of blocking out what happened to Roddy.'

'It still seems preposterous to me.' Perez drank some wine. 'Like a kids' game. Or Up h.e.l.ly Aa after the parade. The guisers all wearing masks and running from one hall to another. I'm never part of the squad, so I b.u.mp into people and can't quite recognize them, though I know they're familiar. That's how I feel now; I'm losing track about what's real and what's pretend.'

'I know,' she said again.

'Am I talking rubbish?'

'I think I know what you mean.' She paused. 'There's a photograph. That might help pin things down. And masks figure there too.' She laid a faded colour photograph on the table and turned the lamp so it was fully lit.

'They're dressed up for a dinner party,' she said. 'Fancy dress too, in a way. The masks must be significant, mustn't they?'

Certainly that, Perez thought, but I'm not quite sure how. He'd thought he was inching towards a solution. Had he been wrong?

'That's Wilding,' Perez said, pointing to the dark man. 'He's hardly changed. How can she not have recognized him?'

'It was a long time ago, in a different context. But he must have remembered being here. Why didn't he say something to Bella when he asked to rent the house from her? That seems most odd to me.'

'And there's Bella. She always wore red in those days. It was her sort of trademark.'

'You knew her then?'

'Knew of her, certainly. She was a local celebrity even in those days.'

'Bella thinks that's Booth.' Fran pointed to a figure on the back row. With his long hair and beard, his rather thin face, he looked like a Renaissance representation of Jesus. The Last Supper, Perez thought.

'Who are the others?'

'I don't know. She didn't say and I didn't ask. Lawrence isn't there, though. She expected him to come. She thought he would propose to her that night, but he didn't turn up. Isn't it sad?'

'It is if it's true.'

'You don't believe her?'

'I've told you, I don't know who or what to believe.' He drank more wine, a good mouthful, not a sip. 'I should tell Taylor.'

'Won't he be asleep?'

'I don't think he ever sleeps.' He took another drink. 'Could I ask him over? We won't disturb you.'

She didn't hesitate. 'Of course.'

And Taylor did pick up his mobile after the second ring, and his voice was as strong as it always was, the accent deepened somehow over the phone. Perez explained as best he could, realizing that he was stuttering slightly. 'There's a photo,' he said. 'It's interesting. It would wait until the morning but you'd be welcome to come over if you like. You know where Fran lives.'

A moment of hesitation. Perez was preparing himself for a rebuff. Then Taylor's voice came again, stronger than ever. 'I'll be there. Half an hour.' Another pause. 'Thanks.'

Fran took herself to bed before Taylor arrived. She set out a plate of food for them cheese and oatcakes and a tin with home-made biscuits.

'There's no need for that.' Perez reached out and touched her hand.

'I think I've been in Shetland long enough to know how to behave with visitors.'

He heard her move around the bedroom, pictured her taking off clothes, pulling out the long earrings, reaching behind her head to unclip her bead necklace. Then she stood at the door in a long white cotton nightdress he'd never seen before.

'I'll be asleep before you come in,' she said. 'Sorry.'

'My fault. I shouldn't have asked Taylor.'

He thought this was a crazy way to begin a relations.h.i.+p. They floated into each other's lives when they were too exhausted to make sense. Ghosts pa.s.sing in the white nights. Sarah would never have put up with it. She'd wanted more of his attention and his energy. Fran, surely, would tire of his preoccupation with work in the end. But then, as she'd explained, she had her own obsession too, with her art.

He most have dozed off because he didn't hear Taylor's car, only a tap at the door. Outside, the darkest of the night had pa.s.sed. The grey light in the east showed the black silhouette of Raven's Head. He filled a kettle and made coffee. They started talking in whispers. Perez set Bella's photograph on the table.

'See the masks,' he said.