private?’
‘Not here,’ Rhona said sharply. ‘Not like this. I’m cold and I need to shower and change. You can come back to my house later.’
‘No need for that,’ Willow said easily. ‘Let me just walk up to the cars with you and we can chat there. I’m sure it’s something that can be cleared up in a matter of minutes.’
It was impossible for Rhona to refuse, so she dusted the sand from her feet and put on her shoes, pulled on a sweater and followed Willow up to the car park. They sat in Willow’s hire car. Rhona thought it would be unbearable to have the inspector in her own vehicle. It would be like spilling milk on the floor; you’d never get rid of the taint. Down on the beach people were clearing up, collecting stray bits of rubbish in black sacks. The sun was already low and they threw long shadows.
‘This really isn’t very convenient, Inspector. I have a busy day tomorrow and I’d like to get home.’ The tone she was after was brisk and businesslike, but she suspected that there was an undernote of anxiety and that the detective would have picked up on it.
‘We’ve discovered a little more about Jerry Markham’s whereabouts on the day of his death.’ Willow stretched suddenly and her body seemed to fill the small and tinny hire car.
‘Yes?’ The Fiscal’s curiosity was genuine enough.
‘He had a meeting with the press officer in Sullom Voe in the afternoon. He claimed that he was researching a piece on new energies, on the gas that’s being brought ashore at the terminal. But also wave and wind power. Shetland as the powerhouse of the UK.’
‘I suppose that makes sense,’ Rhona said. ‘There’s been a lot of interest in the development of the technologies. The islands are full of the energy-company people. It seems almost impossible to get a hotel room at the moment.’
She might not have spoken. Willow continued. ‘Markham was seen earlier that day at around eleven a.m. in the art gallery at Weisdale.’
‘The Bonhoga,’ the Fiscal said.
Willow turned to her. ‘You know it?’
‘Of course I know it! Everyone in Shetland knows it. They might not like the art, but they go for the good coffee and the home baking.’
‘Did you fancy coffee and cakes on Friday morning?’
The question was sudden and for a moment Rhona was thrown. ‘Of course not. I was working. Why would I drive from Lerwick in the middle of a working day?’
‘To meet Jerry Markham perhaps.’
There was a moment of silence. By now the car park looking down at the beach was deserted. The bonfire on the sand was still smoking, but nobody was there.
‘I’m sorry. What are you suggesting?’ Occasionally, when she was a practising lawyer in Edinburgh, her reputation had been called into question in court. She’d used the same tone of incredulous outrage then.
‘We have a description of the woman Markham met,’ Willow said. ‘Middle-aged, well groomed, slim.’
‘That could apply to a thousand women in the islands.’
‘Perhaps,’ the inspector said, though it was clear from her voice that she doubted it. ‘But not to a thousand women linked to our investigation.’
She leaned forward and Rhona could see the earnest face, the prematurely lined eyes. Even as she was considering her answer, the Fiscal thought that Willow Reeves clearly never used moisturizer.
‘You do see why I had to ask you?’ Willow went on. ‘If I ignored that sort of connection I’d be failing in my duty as an investigating officer. I can’t be seen to be giving you preferential treatment.’
For a moment Rhona was taken in by the gentle voice. Perhaps, after all, Willow Reeves was just going through the motions. But it came to her again that this woman was dangerous.
‘I didn’t leave my office on Friday morning,’ she said.
‘And other people will have been around. They’ll confirm that. So now I’ve asked my questions and I can look elsewhere.’ Willow nodded in approval. Rhona hesitated. The
‘Not here,’ Rhona said sharply. ‘Not like this. I’m cold and I need to shower and change. You can come back to my house later.’
‘No need for that,’ Willow said easily. ‘Let me just walk up to the cars with you and we can chat there. I’m sure it’s something that can be cleared up in a matter of minutes.’
It was impossible for Rhona to refuse, so she dusted the sand from her feet and put on her shoes, pulled on a sweater and followed Willow up to the car park. They sat in Willow’s hire car. Rhona thought it would be unbearable to have the inspector in her own vehicle. It would be like spilling milk on the floor; you’d never get rid of the taint. Down on the beach people were clearing up, collecting stray bits of rubbish in black sacks. The sun was already low and they threw long shadows.
‘This really isn’t very convenient, Inspector. I have a busy day tomorrow and I’d like to get home.’ The tone she was after was brisk and businesslike, but she suspected that there was an undernote of anxiety and that the detective would have picked up on it.
‘We’ve discovered a little more about Jerry Markham’s whereabouts on the day of his death.’ Willow stretched suddenly and her body seemed to fill the small and tinny hire car.
‘Yes?’ The Fiscal’s curiosity was genuine enough.
‘He had a meeting with the press officer in Sullom Voe in the afternoon. He claimed that he was researching a piece on new energies, on the gas that’s being brought ashore at the terminal. But also wave and wind power. Shetland as the powerhouse of the UK.’
‘I suppose that makes sense,’ Rhona said. ‘There’s been a lot of interest in the development of the technologies. The islands are full of the energy-company people. It seems almost impossible to get a hotel room at the moment.’
She might not have spoken. Willow continued. ‘Markham was seen earlier that day at around eleven a.m. in the art gallery at Weisdale.’
‘The Bonhoga,’ the Fiscal said.
Willow turned to her. ‘You know it?’
‘Of course I know it! Everyone in Shetland knows it. They might not like the art, but they go for the good coffee and the home baking.’
‘Did you fancy coffee and cakes on Friday morning?’
The question was sudden and for a moment Rhona was thrown. ‘Of course not. I was working. Why would I drive from Lerwick in the middle of a working day?’
‘To meet Jerry Markham perhaps.’
There was a moment of silence. By now the car park looking down at the beach was deserted. The bonfire on the sand was still smoking, but nobody was there.
‘I’m sorry. What are you suggesting?’ Occasionally, when she was a practising lawyer in Edinburgh, her reputation had been called into question in court. She’d used the same tone of incredulous outrage then.
‘We have a description of the woman Markham met,’ Willow said. ‘Middle-aged, well groomed, slim.’
‘That could apply to a thousand women in the islands.’
‘Perhaps,’ the inspector said, though it was clear from her voice that she doubted it. ‘But not to a thousand women linked to our investigation.’
She leaned forward and Rhona could see the earnest face, the prematurely lined eyes. Even as she was considering her answer, the Fiscal thought that Willow Reeves clearly never used moisturizer.
‘You do see why I had to ask you?’ Willow went on. ‘If I ignored that sort of connection I’d be failing in my duty as an investigating officer. I can’t be seen to be giving you preferential treatment.’
For a moment Rhona was taken in by the gentle voice. Perhaps, after all, Willow Reeves was just going through the motions. But it came to her again that this woman was dangerous.
‘I didn’t leave my office on Friday morning,’ she said.
‘And other people will have been around. They’ll confirm that. So now I’ve asked my questions and I can look elsewhere.’ Willow nodded in approval. Rhona hesitated. The
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