Rhona raised her eyebrows. Perhaps she was thinking that Perez knew something about obsession. He must wake up thinking about Fran dying in the dark on Fair Isle and no doubt he dreamed about it too.
‘Did the wife know what was going on? I still haven’t decided how we should charge her.’
‘I’ve been thinking about that.’ And it was true. Of all the aspects of the case, this was the one that haunted him most. Sometimes he saw Sarah as a figure like Lady Macbeth, the malign influence behind Fowler, feeding him poison, persuading him with her words and her unhappiness that Angela deserved to die. Had she lured Fran out of the lighthouse, so Fowler could kill her? At other times, he saw Sarah as a victim. ‘I don’t think she was unhappy when Angela died. She was desperate for a child. They’d been through the stress of IVF and then lost a baby late in pregnancy. Angela was pregnant. Sarah was jealous too.’ What a couple the Fowlers must have been, Perez thought. Both of them wrapped up in their disappointment and envy. How did they live their lives? By making small efforts at conversation and normality? Bizarrely, he found himself wondering if John and Sarah ever had sex at the end. There was something almost sensual in the way the women’s bodies had been displayed. Another example of John Fowler’s odd repression?
‘Sarah Fowler knew about Angela’s pregnancy?’ Rhona’s question startled Perez, brought him back to the tasteful room, with the high ceiling and the photographs of old sailing ships on the walls, the immediacy of the investigation.
‘I think so,’ he said. ‘Hugh Shaw claims he heard the Fowlers discussing it. She’d trained as a nurse. And she’d be hypersensitive, wouldn’t she, when she longed so much for a baby for herself?’ He found himself wondering if Rhona Laing had ever wanted a child.
‘Do you know who the father was?’
‘Ben Catchpole,’ Perez said. ‘The timing doesn’t work for anyone else.’
‘I can understand why Fowler killed Moore.’ Rhona reached out and took a piece of shortbread from the white china plate. She seemed disappointed in herself as if she’d given in to a terrible temptation. It seemed to Perez that she had a strange attitude to food. Did she maintain her figure because she was on a perpetual diet or was it all about self-control?
She went on: ‘At least, I can just about understand it as an elaborate act of revenge, conceived by a twisted mind. But he had nothing against Jane Latimer.’
‘That was to do with survival,’ Perez said. ‘It was clear from the beginning that Jane was killed because she’d decided Fowler was the killer. I think she was playing detectives. She liked puzzles.’
‘A dangerous game.’ The Fiscal licked her index finger and scooped up a biscuit crumb from the plate.
‘The keys to the lighthouse tower were kept in the kitchen,’ Perez said. ‘That’s where Fowler went to watch people moving around the island. Jane might have seen him take them or replace them. She searched his room. There was the draft of his original article about the possible search areas for the curlew. He’d brought it with him to confront Angela. She’d been reading it in the bird room and was frantic when Fowler took it back. Of course, she didn’t want anyone else to read it. It meant nothing to us, but Jane had spent a season in the field centre and understood the implication of it.’ He paused. He tried to imagine Jane’s exhilaration when she’d thought she’d put together the pieces. When was she planning to tell him?
‘She wasn’t foolish enough to confront Fowler with her suspicions?’ Rhona looked at her watch again. How much time had she allowed him? When was her next meeting due to begin?
‘No, Fowler went back to the North Light when Jane wasn’t expecting him. I think he saw her searching his things. It was partly my fault. It was the morning Angela’s body went out on the helicopter. I sent Sarah and Fowler away from the hall where I was conducting the interviews and told them to come back later. You can see into all the bedrooms as you come into the centre. The ground’s a bit higher there and there’s a perfect view into the rooms of the first floor. Jane wouldn’t have expected them back so soon.’
‘He killed her?’ Rhona said. ‘Just for that?’
‘By then,’ Perez said, ‘he’d lost all reason and all perspective. Perhaps she gave something of her suspicion away. The bookshop name would have intrigued her too and I’m sure she would have looked it up. Perhaps in his mind she was implicated in Angela’s betrayal just by being part of the field centre. The fact that the crime scene was decorated with feathers would indicate that. Fowler watched her from the lighthouse tower and saw her go towards the Pund. Jane knew Angela used it as a place to take her men and to keep her secrets. I guess she hoped to find more evidence of Fowler’s guilt there. He picked up a pillow from the laundry room, stuffed it into his day sack and hurried over the hill after her. At least, I’m guessing that’s what he did. You know more about it than I do. What does Sandy’s report say?’
‘You’re right,’ Rhona said. ‘Of course you’re right. You’re the best detective I’ve ever worked with, Jimmy.’ She looked up at him before continuing. ‘What happened then?’
Perez thought he knew, but suddenly he was tired of talking. This wasn’t his story. He forced out the words. ‘He found Jane in the loft. I suppose she was searching for letters, a diary, anything that would give more details of Angela’s fraud. That’s where he killed her.’ Rhona turned over a printed report on her desk and read from Fowler’s confession. ‘It was very quick. She must have heard my footsteps coming up the ladder behind her, but she didn’t even have had time to turn round. I like to think she wouldn’t have suffered.’
‘That’s not true,’ Perez said angrily. ‘There were defence wounds on her hands and arms. She fought him off and of course she suffered. I even think he enjoyed that. He didn’t have to kill Fran. He must have realized it was all over for him by then.’ He paused. ‘He killed Jane with a knife he’d taken from the kitchen.’
‘You must hate him, Jimmy.’
Perez ignored the observation. He felt drained and he wanted this over as soon as he could. He thought almost with pleasure of his house by the shore, where his father would be waiting with a bottle of whisky and a simple meal.
‘Angela had told Stella Monkton that she’d stolen Fowler’s research,’ Perez said. ‘I think Angela did have scruples where her academic work was concerned and she regretted it. When Stella came into Fair Isle she passed on the information to Maurice. He could decide what was most important – to destroy Angela’s reputation or use information that might lead to her killer.’
‘He decided to tell you.’
‘Yes.’ Perez looked up at her. ‘If I’d listened to him sooner, Fran might be alive.’
‘You can’t believe that, Jimmy.’
‘Oh, yes,’ he said, ‘I can.’ He looked up at her. ‘Of course I’ve decided to give up my job. I can’t face this responsibility any more. And every day I’d be reminded of her.’
‘What will you do?’ She didn’t try to talk him out of it. She could see his mind was made up.
‘Something useful,’ he said. ‘Practical. I’ll make furniture or keep sheep.’ It wasn’t as if he needed much money. Now he only had himself to care for.
‘You’ll always be a detective, Jimmy, in your heart. You’re too curious to walk away from things.’
He didn’t know what to say to that.
‘Will you go home to Fair Isle to live?’ she asked.
He answered immediately. ‘Oh, no. I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to go back there.’
Chapter Forty