Shetland 05: Dead Water by Ann Cleeves Read Free Book Online Page A

was quite calm now. This could have been a routine work matter. ‘I’m afraid Jerry Markham has come back to haunt us.’

Chapter Eight
    They had lunch in the bar in Voe. Another settlement close to the water. Another small marina. Sandy wondered where they’d all sprung from, these smart developments to cater for folk with sailing boats and motor cruisers. He couldn’t remember there being so many when he was a child. Willow Reeves ordered soup and bannocks. She ate hungrily, and that pleased him. He didn’t like women who were always worrying about how much food they put into their mouths. Two people he knew were in the pub, talking about the hen party that had happened the evening before. It had been the usual thing. They’d hired a minibus to take them round the bars in North Mainland and everyone had dressed up. This time, though, it had been a three-legged pub-crawl and the lassies had been collecting for charity.
    ‘Did you see that Jen Belshaw? She doesn’t have the figure for showing that much flesh.’ More giggling like schoolboys.
    Sandy almost joined in the conversation to describe the pair of women climbing out of the bus the night before, their legs still tied together, but decided just in time that it wouldn’t be professional. He could have fancied a beer, but Willow was drinking water, so he stuck to the orange juice. They sat at the window, away from the chatting couple at the bar.
    ‘Usually very tense, your Fiscal, is she?’
    He felt for a moment that he should defend Rhona Laing. She might be a soothmoother, but she lived in Shetland now, and she’d been good to Jimmy Perez after the business on Fair Isle. Then he remembered her sarcasm, the cutting comments that had been directed towards him. ‘She’s not an easy woman,’ he said. ‘A stickler for procedure.’
    ‘Honest, though?’ Willow looked at him. Her hair was too long at the front and flopped over her eyes. ‘Never any question of that?’
    ‘Good God, no!’ He was shocked that she could even imagine it. ‘Not just honest, but efficient. You know, sometimes things go wrong, cases cocked up – not through any intention, not corruption, but because folk might be lazy. Not thorough. No question of that with the Iron Maiden.’
    ‘That’s what you call her?’ Willow grinned. ‘The Iron Maiden?’
    ‘It’s what Jimmy used to call her. Sometimes.’
    ‘She just seemed very uncomfortable,’ Willow said. ‘If she were a witness, an ordinary witness, I’d bet ten pounds that she was hiding something.’
    ‘She’s a loner.’ Again it seemed weird to be standing up for the Fiscal. ‘No friends. Not here, at least. She seems confident enough at work. And when she’s schmoozing with councillors and politicians. But perhaps she finds it hard to have people in her house.’
    ‘Aye,’ Willow said. ‘Maybe that’s all it is.’ But she still sounded uncertain, and Sandy wondered what was going on in her mind.
    There was no mobile reception in Voe, but once they joined the main road that led from Lerwick to the north he had a flurry of messages on his phone indicating missed calls. He was driving, so he pulled into the end of a track to listen. Where the track met the road there were two figures made of straw-filled pillowcases and clothes stuffed with rags. Where the face should be, life-size photos of the faces of the bride and groom-to-be had been stuck on. Sandy thought he’d seen the man around, but he didn’t recognize the girl. This was a tradition before a wedding. They looked kind of spooky. If ever he got married, he wouldn’t want a scarecrow figure of him at the gate of his parents’ croft in Whalsay.
    ‘They’ve found Markham’s car,’ he said. ‘It was a call from Davy Cooper.’
    ‘Where?’
    ‘Near the museum at Vatnagarth.’ He saw that she was none the wiser. ‘It’s a croft-house,’ he said. ‘Hasn’t changed in years. Tourists go there to see what life was like in the old days.