‘All this won’t change the ship’s schedule?’
‘That depends on how quickly we can eliminate the rest of the trainees from the enquiry. Probably not.’ He made an apologetic face. ‘Sorry I can’t tell you more.’
‘S’OK,’ I said. ‘What about your being kidnapped?’
He brought his hand up to his brow. ‘I’d forgotten all about that. There’s no way that’ll be possible, I’ll need to be here all day. Can you let Inga know? Tell her I’m really sorry.’
I glanced at my watch. Ten to seven. Inga would be awake by now, especially if she was masterminding twenty-five kidnappings. I called her.
‘Inga? Cass here.’
‘Aye, aye. I heard Radio Shetland last night, the coastguard search and the woman being missing. What’s happening?’
‘There was a death last night.’ I glanced at Gavin. ‘Is that secret?’
Inga snorted. ‘Secret, Cass, in Shetland? Yea, yea, I’d heard about that too. Is Gavin too tied up to be kidnapped, then?’
‘Yea. He said to say he’s really sorry.’
‘OK.’ There was a pause as Inga sorted out several possibilities in her head. ‘Right, it’ll hae to be dee, then.’
‘Me?’ I nearly dropped the phone. ‘I’m no’ famous.’
‘Oh, you’re getting pretty weel kent,’ Inga said. ‘All this interfering in murders. Anyway, I’ve no time to get someen else, so if you widna mind – we’ll just pick you up off the beach the sam as we were going to do with Gavin.’
There was no point in resisting Inga’s organisation. ‘Well … OK,’ I said. ‘Then what?’
‘Off to a secret destination, then released at eight o’clock to face the world’s press. Well, Radio Shetland and the Millgaet TV cameras. Don’t worry about that, they’ll be far too busy talking to wir MPs to interview you.’
‘Good.’
‘Right, see you at Hillswick then. Gie me a call when you’re anchoring up, and I’ll send Charlie over to get you.’
‘I’ll do that. See you later.’ I snicked the call off and turned to grimace at Gavin. ‘Secret destination. Radio. TV.’
‘Ach, get well behind the MPs and celebrities, and you’ll never get a look in.’
‘Well,’ I said, ‘so long as they feed us. Inga’s millionaire shortbread, for preference.’
Gavin laughed.
Breakfast was an awkward meal. I was too conscious of Alain beside me. His high spirits of last night had gone; now he wore his brooding look. I’d need to talk to him later, tell him all that he’d not been able to take in last night. I shot a doubtful look at him, then caught Gavin’s eye on me, and was vexed to find myself colouring up. I needed to explain, and at least I could do that, now Alain knew who he was, but goodness only knew when we’d get time together. Tonight, perhaps, aboard in Hillswick.
Captain Sigurd gathered the trainees together on deck immediately after breakfast, with Gavin and Sergeant Peterson at his elbow. Four uniformed officers were set up at the table in front of the banjer door, with a pile of paper in front of them. Sergeant Peterson had what looked like the same sheets. I tilted my neck sideways and read it: a table of last night’s dances, with times, and a space for writing in. Alibis, of course.
Gavin stepped forward. He was in his own world now, not mine; captain, I’d called him. His stance, his eyes, his voice, made it clear this investigation was under control. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, for those of you who haven’t met me, I’m DI Macrae of Police Scotland, in charge of this case. I wish to update you on the situation here.’ He turned to Agnetha, standing quietly at the head of our ranked line. ‘Ms Solheim, can I ask you to translate into Norwegian, to make sure everyone understands?’
She nodded and stepped forward.
‘Our search has so far found no trace of the missing woman, Laura Eastley. Her brother, Oliver, will remain on Fetlar for the time being.’ He paused to let Agnetha echo him. ‘However, I think you have now all heard the news that there was also a fatality on the island last night, during the dance. Daniel Christie, of the red watch, was found dead.’
He paused again as Agnetha translated, scanning the faces. Yes, the news had gone round. ‘We would be grateful for your help first in narrowing down the time at which Daniel was last seen. Did anyone notice him at the dance?’
Several heads nodded, Valter’s among them.
‘Good. If you can pinpoint a rough time, that would help us. If you can remember which dance you were doing, say. We’re particularly interested in when he left the hall. In a minute I’ll get you to come and tell Sergeant Peterson about it.’
He paused for a moment, looking around them. ‘In Scotland, the police gather information and put it to the procurator fiscal, who decides whether a crime has been committed. I would emphasise that we really are just at the gathering information stage, so please don’t be anxious if we try to establish alibis for as many people as possible. This team of police officers will ask you about the dance. What I’d like you to try to remember is who you danced each dance with, or sat out with, and as I imagine most of you spent most of the evening with the same group of friends, there will be no difficulty with that. You can talk to the officers as a group, if you wish. Thank you.’
He smiled at them, suddenly charming. My jaw dropped. I’d never seen Gavin wooing witnesses before. ‘And for an extra bit of help, his mobile phone hasn’t been found, so if anyone ever chatted to him about coverage, or networks, and found out who his phone provider is, that would save us a lot of phone calls.’
He turned to look at our neat line. ‘I would be grateful if the ship’s crew would also try to recall their movements. Thank you.’
I sensed Alain’s quick glance at me. But that had been after Daniel’s death … or did I need to explain it all to Gavin before a dozen witnesses reported us returning after a half-hour absence?
Now wasn’t the time. He wasn’t my Gavin, but DI Macrae of Police Scotland, in charge of this investigation. He gestured towards Sergeant Peterson. ‘Now, if those of you who saw Daniel would like to tell Sergeant Peterson about him, and everyone else, have a short think – without consulting others, please – then go over to the other officers, on your own or as a group, and describe your night. If you would prefer, Sergeant Spence, on the left there’ – one officer raised his hand – ‘speaks Norwegian.’
He stepped back to Captain Sigurd. ‘We’ll try to let you go as soon as possible, sir. Once we’ve got the preliminary statements, then it will take time to sift through them, but I think we’ll be able to eliminate most of the crew and trainees. It would have taken not less than half an hour to go and return from the hall to where Christie was found – long enough for someone’s absence to be noticed from a group. We can then focus on those people, and interview them in Hillswick or Scalloway.’
‘I would like to leave a crew member with you to represent the ship,’ Captain Sigurd said. ‘There may be details you need to know during your investigation, and I would like to be updated.’ He turned to me. ‘Ms Lynch, I will ask Ms Solheim to take over your watch for this afternoon, and leave you with the police.’
Gavin frowned.
‘Ms Lynch is my only officer who is also a native English speaker,’ Captain Sigurd said. ‘I understand that it is a confidential investigation, but I hope that you have faith in her discretion.’
I could see from the set of his jaw that this was an order. ‘I understand you would wish the ship to be represented,’ Gavin said, ‘but I will have to clear this with my superior officers, if you’ll give me a moment.’
Captain Sigurd inclined his head and Gavin stepped aside, lifting his phone. A short conversation, then he nodded, dropped the phone into his pocket and returned to us. ‘That will be fine, on the understanding that Ms Lynch clears any information she gives you with me first.’
I nodded.
‘That information is, of course, confidential to you unless you judge it necessary for the safety of the ship to share it
with your officers.’
‘Understood,’ Captain Sigurd said, and he and Gavin shook hands.
All very well, I thought, them disposing of me as if I was a parcel, and no doubt it would be fun to sit in on a police investigation instead of being sent out of the room just as things got interesting, but what next? Would I stick with Gavin and rejoin the ship at Hillswick? What about Cat? And I was supposed to be being kidnapped for Inga. I let Captain Sigurd proceed off, then turned to Gavin. ‘How long will we be in Fetlar?’
Gavin checked his notebook. ‘There are two Gutcher ferries, 19.40 and 21.40. I’m hoping we’ll have wound up the investigations here by the 19.40, but I’ve made a booking for the later one just in case. Once we’ve done the house-to-house and compared your crew and trainee statements, we can move to Lerwick. We’ll run you to Hillswick on our way.’ He gave me a doubtful look. ‘You could be in for a boring day spent hanging around.’
‘I’ll bring a book. But what about Inga’s kidnapping?’
‘I’d forgotten that.’ He was silent for a moment, thinking. ‘Well, listen, the captain wants you here, but I don’t see that you’ll be allowed to do anything, and I don’t think there will be anything I’ll need to know. How about you stick with us for the morning and early afternoon, then get on a teatime ferry?’ He checked his notebook again. ‘There’s a 16.40 that goes direct to Yell. D’you want to try and see if she could collect you from that?’
I fished my mobile out of my pocket again. Yea, yea, Inga reckoned she could get someone to get me from Yell, ‘and hae a good day being police.’
That settled the question of Cat. He would probably have enjoyed another day ashore, but he wouldn’t take to being in a basket for … I did a quick calculation, twenty-five minutes to Yell, twenty-five to cross Yell, twenty for the Yell ferry, then to our secret destination … at least an hour and a half of ferries and cars. He’d have to stay on board.
I went up to the bridge, where Agnetha was checking my navigation to Hillswick, neatly written out on two sheets of A4 in correct RYA style, starting with distance and hazards. ‘It’s pretty straightforward,’ I assured her. ‘Just the tides in Yell Sound, and then the only thing you can’t see is the Uyea Baas. The scenery’s good, too, black lava cliffs.’
She scanned my pages quickly and nodded.
‘I’m going to have to leave Cat on board. Can you maybe feed him for me at tea time?’
‘Sure. Maybe as well to keep you and Rafael separate for a day.’
For a moment I didn’t know who she meant, and gave her a blank look, which she met with a Come off it expression. ‘After last night’s row?’
Of course. I felt myself going scarlet. Naturally, you couldn’t keep anything private on board a ship, but I hadn’t thought of that quarrel in the hall car park being overheard, with the band thumping out dance tunes. I should have known my Shetland better. ‘I suppose the whole hall heard us.’
She shook her head. ‘No, I just went out for a breath of fresh air.’
I pulled a face.
‘I didn’t understand a word. I don’t speak Spanish. But there are a dozen garbled versions doing the rounds.’ There was a chill in her blue eyes, a hint of contempt in her voice, which stung like a lashing rope. ‘You’ll have to make up your mind which of them you want. Gavin won’t stand for being messed about.’
I was going to try and explain when Alain himself came in. He was still subdued, his eyes sliding past mine.
‘I’ll go and get ready for a day ashore,’ I said. He looked up at that, startled, and opened his mouth to speak, but I dodged out quickly, with a ‘See you later’ flung over my shoulder. A dozen garbled versions doing the rounds … I had to explain to Gavin, the first chance I got.
For now, though, I shoved a book, a jumper, sandshoes, midge spray and my purse into my haversack, and went to add my tuppence-worth to the police officers at the banjer table. I had to be out of it, as I’d been with the search party – unless, of course, he’d been shot so soon before I found him that I was chief suspect. Again. That would entertain Sergeant Peterson, no doubt, but I was getting fed up of Fate dealing me this particular leading role. They didn’t ask about what I’d done once I’d got back to the hall, and I didn’t volunteer the information. A dozen garbled versions … I was writhing with humiliation inside, but there was nothing to be done about it. I gritted my teeth and remembered the Shetland mantra, ‘If they’re speaking about you, they’re leaving someone else alone.’
Mona put me over to the pier, chatting slightly too cheerily about how it was a shame I was missing the sail, but how interesting it would be watching a police investigation. I felt her relief as I stepped out of the dinghy and shoved her off.
A soft breeze had sprung up now, just enough to fret the water and dag the edges of the hill reflections. The midges, mercifully, were gone; the sun was warm on my head and bare arms. I strode briskly up the road to the hall, and went in.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The main room was filled with police. They must have gathered every officer in Shetland. There were several whiteboards, in the best TV cop style, with photographs of Laura, Anna, Daniel and Oliver. There was a screen rolled down one wall. Several computers had been set up on hall tables.
I’d come into a briefing. Gavin was standing in front of the pinboards, with an array of uniforms in front of him. He was leaning forward, listening to one of them, the gangly object who’d tried to keep me off my own ship in the longship case. Constable Buchanan. ‘I followed up Anna Reynolds on Facebook, sir, and looked through her tweets. She works as the receptionist in an Edinburgh garage called Quality Wheels. It specialises in high-end cars, Porsche, Lamborghini, that kind of thing.’
‘A possible link with Eastley,’ another officer said. ‘He drives an Aston Martin coupé.’
‘She’s got a core group of five friends who meet up regularly – meals, a night at the pub, clubbing on Saturdays, that kind of thing. Edinburgh’s interviewed the one who appears most frequently on her Facebook page, and she didn’t know either Eastley or Christie. However, there was someone that Anna was secretive about. The friend never heard a name, but Anna said he was someone who was used to girls being easy, so she was playing hard to get.’
Used to girls being easy sounded more like Oliver than Daniel.
‘There’s no mention of either man on her page. Eastley posts more than her; she prefers tweeting. Christie’s a Snapchat man. They have several mutual friends, but they look to be at acquaintance level rather than actual friends, and there’s nobody common to all three.’ He yawned and passed a hand over his bristly chin. ‘I worked through their photos. One of Eastley’s friends posted this one.’ He projected it onto a screen. ‘Taken in April in a club called Satin Bows, in the New Town, very trendy among young professionals from the public schools.’ The photo appeared on the screen. The focus was on a group of men holding scarlet and white scarves in the air. His pointer wavered into the corner. A couple of clicks and the corner of the photo expanded, expanded again. Behind the men were Oliver and the girl I’d seen in the boat: dark brows, blue eyes, strong cheekbones. There was something flirtatious about the way she was holding her glass up at him, something teasing about her stance, but you could see they were friends, not just-met acquaintances. ‘The club owner didn’t know their names, but he recognised them as a couple he’d seen there occasionally.’ He paused to stress what was coming. ‘He remembered them because each time they’d arrived separately, and drifted together, as if they didn’t know each other. He thought one of them might be married, but that was none of his business.’
The photo stayed there on the screen, a moment caught by a casual camera.
‘Playing hard to get,’ Sergeant Peterson said, ‘or being careful?’
‘Otherwise,’ PC Buchanan said, ‘there’s nothing between Eastley and Reynolds. No mention of him on her page, no mention of her on his. Her friends have a number of photographs of her, but none of him, an
d his friends don’t have any of her. Edinburgh is doing a door-to-door of their friends, but so far nobody knows of a link between them.’ He paused to take a breath. ‘However …’
The heads which had gone down to their tablets came up again.
PC Buchanan brought two new photos on the screen: Nelson’s Column and St Paul’s Cathedral. ‘These are from Eastley’s Facebook page. They were taken in the first weekend of February.’ The screen changed again: an Anna selfie in front of St Paul’s, and an Oliver selfie in front of a red bus. ‘And these were posted in the second weekend of March.’
‘A double visit to London, a month apart,’ Sergeant Peterson said. She tapped into her computer. ‘The English qualification for marriage is a month’s residence.’
‘Good work,’ Gavin said. ‘That’s all very interesting. Anything at the English Register Office?’
‘They weren’t open when I tried them, sir.’
‘Get on to that as soon as this briefing is over. Eastley’s office too – find out what he was doing in February.’
‘Yes, sir.’
Sergeant Peterson gave that mermaid smile of hers, as if she’d spotted a ship in difficulties. ‘Ammunition for when we interview him.’
Gavin glanced at his notes. ‘Eastley still lives at home, the parental home, with his sister. He said there was a cleaning lady, Elisabeta, but he didn’t know her address – his sister deals with all that. Who was investigating Reynolds’s flat?’
Another officer raised her hand. ‘Constable Sinclair, sir. I talked to Reynolds’s landlord. A small student flat. She’s supposed to live there on her own, and as far as he knows, she does, but he doesn’t care so long as he gets the rent. She’s been there ten years, she pays on time through her bank, end of. His only personal impression of her is that she’s smart and efficient, very businesslike but decorative with it.’
‘As you’d expect from her job. Good. Her employers?’
The whiteboards were gradually being covered with scribbles.
Death on a Shetland Isle Page 21
