All morning while he was working in the field he caught glimpses of Edith. She’d done a pile of washing 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 washing 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.
‘Why don’t we walk down to the Herring House?’ he said. ‘Get one of Martin’s posh coffees there. He’ll surely be open now.’
‘I can’t go looking like this.’ But he could tell she was pleased by the suggestion.
‘Why not? You look lovely. You always look lovely.’
They walked down the track together, hand in hand. Kenny felt as if he was on holiday too. He took a quick look towards the jetty. There was a police car there and tape stretched right across the entrance, but nothing much seemed to be happening. He guessed that the police from Inverness hadn’t arrived yet.
The café at the Herring House let in all the light whatever time of day it was. Extra windows had been built into the wall facing the water.
There were more people there than you’d usually get on a weekday morning, and Kenny recognized some of them. A couple of elderly ladies from Middleton who’d taken a trip out in case there was anything to see. They turned out for any reported accident or disaster. A journalist from the Shetland Times. It occurred to Kenny that the plane bringing in the Inverness police would also be carrying reporters from the national press. Now he was here he felt awkward. He supposed he and Edith were just like the others; they’d come to the Herring House in hope of news.
Martin Williamson came out from the kitchen to take their order. He had a light, almost dancing, way of walking that made Kenny think of a racehorse just before it went into the stalls. Kenny nodded at the other customers. ‘At least it’s good for business, then, having a dead body next door.’
Martin grinned. ‘Aye. I’ll not be sorry when they take it away though. It seems kind of weird, leaving it there all night. Mother’s in a right state about it. I don’t think she slept.’
‘I know she’s upset. She came to see me yesterday.’
‘You can’t blame her,’ Edith said. ‘When you think what happened to your father. It must bring it all back.’
‘Have you heard when the police from Inverness will get here?’ Kenny asked. He was thinking that Perez hadn’t phoned him back. When the dead man was taken away he’d have a chance to see him, then he’d know for certain that it couldn’t be Lawrence. The more he struggled to conjure his brother’s features in his head, the more they became blurred and slid away from him.
‘First plane out of Aberdeen,’ Martin said. ‘They’ll be in any time.’
Kenny asked for a cappuccino for Edith and a latte for himself. They always had the same when they came here. Because it seemed like a holiday he added a couple of pieces of cake to the order and Martin danced away.
They’d almost finished when Roddy Sinclair made an entrance. He stood at the door and heads turned. Everyone recognized him and there was a brief moment of silence before the conversation continued. He looked as if he’d just got out of his bed. His hair was tousled and he still seemed half asleep. Or maybe, Kenny thought, he’d been up all night. He didn’t find a table and wait for Martin to take his order, but walked towards the kitchen, leaned on the doorframe and shouted in.
‘Double espresso. Strong as you like.’ There were other people at the tables waiting to order, but nobody seemed to mind him jumping the queue. Typical Sinclair, Kenny thought. They’re arrogant, the lot of them. Across the tables, one of the Middleton old ladies smiled at the boy and gave him a little wave. Kenny thought that was typical too. Women would let the Sinclair boy get away with anything.
Roddy tilted his body away from the doorframe so he was standing upright.
‘Fantastic view from here,’ he said. ‘It always surprises me.’ He sauntered towards them. ‘Do you mind if I join you?’
‘We’ll be going soon,’ Kenny said, but the boy seemed not to hear and sat down anyway. Outside now there was strong sunshine. A sailing boat was on the water halfway to the horizon. Kenny tried to work out who might own it and decided it didn’t belong to anyone local.
Roddy leaned forward across the table. ‘I understand you were the one to find the body.’ His accent was just as strong as when he’d been a boy. Kenny wondered if he practised at night in his Glasgow flat, in the hotel rooms in exotic cities. It was his trademark. He nodded.
Martin carried across the coffee. Roddy nodded his thanks, but continued to look at Kenny, and waited till Martin had moved away before continuing the conversation.
‘You’re sure he was a stranger?’ he asked. ‘You’d never seen him before?’
Kenny allowed himself to be distracted a moment by the smell of the espresso. If it tasted as good as it smelled he could be converted too. He didn’t want to make a scene here in front of Edith, but he wanted to tell Roddy Sinclair to mind his own business. What right did he have to interrupt them here? Spoil the time he had with his wife?
‘I didn’t recognize the man,’ Kenny said.
‘He was here at Bella’s launch,’ Roddy said. ‘But I didn’t take much notice of him then.’
‘You saw him alive?’
Kenny almost asked Roddy if the man could have been Lawrence, but what would Roddy know? Lawrence had left when Roddy was still a small boy. He was living in Lerwick with his parents and only came to Biddista to visit Bella. He had been an annoying boy even then, spoiled, running wild about the place.
‘Yes. I wish I’d talked to him. If we knew who he was and where he’d come from, we could just get back to normal.’
What would you know about normal? Kenny thought. It seemed a strange thing for the boy to say. Normal was the last thing Roddy had ever wanted. He wanted drama, a different woman every night. Surely he’d be enjoying this small excitement.
Roddy turned to Edith. ‘What do you make of all this?’
‘Nothing,’ she said. ‘It sounds very callous, but I can’t get excited by the death of a man I didn’t know.’
Roddy was about to answer, but he was interrupted by the sound of a car driving down the road outside. Two cars. Everyone’s attention was turned to the window. The old ladies from Middleton stood up so they could get a better view. Quite shameless. Despite himself, Kenny swivelled round in his chair so he could see too.
Jimmy Perez got out of one of the cars. With him was a tall, heavily built man with a bald dome of a head. You could tell even from this distance that he was the boss. There were two other men and a woman, and a couple of police officers Kenny recognized: Sandy from Whalsay and young Morag. Suddenly he didn’t want to be here any more, staring down at the spectacle like children at the circus. He stood up and waited for Edith to follow him home.
Chapter Sixteen
Roy Taylor wasn’t sure what he felt about being back in Shetland. Certainly he was pleased to have finally arrived; all that waiting in Aberdeen had made him feel he was about to explode. And at least they’d got in on the plane. He hadn’t liked to tell the rest of the team – he didn’t believe leaders should admit to weakness, all that sharing, caring stuff wasn’t for him – but he felt queasy on the Mersey ferry. An overnight crossing on the boat and he knew he’d have thrown up.