Cold Earth

by Ann Cleeves

  Now Jane waved back and approached him, her face thrust forward and tilted up for the mandatory kiss on the cheek.

  When did we all start kissing each other? She tried to remember when this form of greeting had become common. When she’d been young she’d only kissed her grandparents and her father, and him only when he’d been drunk and maudlin and had demanded a show of affection.

  ‘How’s it going?’ she asked. They had both sat down and were studying the menu. Jane suddenly felt very hungry. ‘The landslide must be a bit of a nightmare, with the manse so close to the slip. Were you OK the day it happened?’

  ‘I was at Magnus Tait’s funeral.’

  ‘Of course, Kevin said you were there when the landslide happened. Poor Magnus.’ Jane had never got to know Magnus, who’d always seemed strange and a little scary, but Simon had been a regular visitor and had been the person to call the ambulance the day Magnus had a stroke.

  ‘I think he would have rather enjoyed it,’ Simon said. ‘He had an odd sense of humour. The sight of us scrambling out of the way of the mud, falling over, would have appealed to him. He was never one to stand on his dignity.’ There was a moment of silence. ‘I need to ask your advice.’

  Jane looked up, shocked. Simon sometimes gave advice, even if it hadn’t been asked for. He’d been trained for it, after all. She couldn’t remember him asking for it, though. ‘I’m not sure if I’ll be able to help. What is it?’

  ‘Did you hear that a woman was killed in the landslide?’

  ‘Of course,’ Jane said. ‘She was a kind of neighbour, I suppose.’

  ‘Did you know her?’ He looked at her sideways, waiting for an answer.

  ‘Not at all. I don’t think she can have been staying in the house for very long.’

  ‘I met her once,’ Simon said.

  ‘Where? Have you told the police?’ Jane thought that the dark woman from Tain was taking over her life. She felt almost as if she were being stalked. How ridiculous was that? It was impossible to be stalked by a dead woman.

  ‘No.’

  ‘You should,’ Jane said. ‘They haven’t got a name for her yet. I spoke to Jimmy Perez this morning.’ She paused. ‘How did you know her?’

  There was another silence, which stretched. The young waiter came with their bill.

  ‘I didn’t know her. Not really.’ Simon looked out over the water. ‘But it was a very bizarre encounter.’

  She could tell he was about to launch into one of his stories. ‘What do you mean? Did you visit her at Tain?’

  ‘No, nothing like that. I met her in Lerwick. And I’m not even sure that I should be talking about it.’

  ‘But of course you should!’ And Jane knew he wanted to talk about it. Simon loved gossip of all kinds. He said that he’d become a psychologist because it gave him a way of prying into other people’s lives.

  ‘You know we set up a counselling service for Shetlanders? A small charitable trust. Something outside the health service, which doesn’t always have the time or experience to do intensive work. Most of our focus is on families, but we do see individuals too, if that’s needed. Individuals in trouble.’

  Jane nodded. ‘Befriending Shetland’ was one of Simon’s projects. A good cause, but sometimes she thought he’d only set it up out of boredom – that restlessness that always needed a challenge. He was still involved, though, still made the trek into Lerwick three times a week to run sessions.

  ‘We run a drop-in service one evening a week,’ Simon went on. ‘It’s usually me and a volunteer. Often nobody turns up and we just have a good gossip and drink tea.’ Another pause. ‘But that night I was on my own.’

  ‘And the dead woman came along?’

  Simon nodded.

  ‘When was it?’ Jane was fascinated now.

  ‘Ten days ago.’

  ‘What did she want?’

  ‘I’m not sure I can tell you.’ He suddenly seemed serious. ‘It’s confidential. That’s the big promise we make to everyone who comes to us.’

  ‘But she’s dead!’ Jane must have spoken more loudly than she intended, because a woman at a far table stared at her. She lowered her voice. ‘Even if you don’t talk to me, you’ll have to tell the police.’

  ‘That’s why I wanted your advice. I suppose I knew what you’d say.’ Simon was staring out of the window. For the first time since she’d joined him in the cafe he was sitting quite still.

  ‘You need to talk to Jimmy Perez. He lives in Ravenswick with Fran Hunter’s daughter. You must know him.’

  ‘I’ve seen him outside the house, but I’ve never really talked to him. I called once after Fran died, but he made it clear he didn’t want my company or my help. Perhaps it was just too soon, but I didn’t want to go back after that.’

  ‘I’ll come with you, if you like,’ Jane said. ‘I know him and I haven’t got anything special on this afternoon.’ She looked at Simon, waiting for his response, and realized that she was holding her breath. She was desperate to go with him to the police station. She wanted to find out everything she could about the dark woman. If Kevin had been visiting her at Tain, this was more than simple curiosity about a dead stranger. She stood up. ‘Well, are you coming?’

  Simon hesitated for just a moment longer and then stood up too. ‘I suppose,’ he said, ‘I haven’t really got any choice.’

  Jane hadn’t expected to see Jimmy Perez, even though she’d mentioned his name to Simon. She’d thought there would be a junior officer to take statements. But when she explained to the constable on the desk why they were there, Jimmy himself came down to greet them and took them up to his office. He offered them coffee.

  ‘It was good to see you at Magnus’s funeral, Simon. I know he enjoyed your visits.’

  ‘A pity the burial itself was quite so dramatic.’

  ‘Magnus was always saying that folk were keeping too many sheep on the hill these days,’ Perez said. ‘I can imagine him chuckling and saying: You see, boys, I told you so.’

  Simon smiled. ‘I was telling Jane that he had an odd sense of humour.’

  Jane had wondered if she might be excluded from the conversation, asked to wait in a different room perhaps, but both Simon and Perez seemed to take it for granted that she would be there. Outside the sky was brightening a little and the gulls seemed very white against the grey sky.

  ‘So,’ Perez said, ‘tell me about your contact with the woman.’ He leaned back in his chair.

  ‘It was by phone first. The organization has an emergency number. We can’t man the line twenty-four hours – we’re not the Samaritans and we don’t have enough volunteers. If no one’s around there’s a recorded message, giving our opening hours, but if I’m there I answer the phone.’

  ‘What impression did you get from that first call?’ Perez paused. ‘I’m guessing you learn to assess people quickly in your business.’

  ‘She sounded quite calm,’ Simon said. ‘Not inebriated at all. Not manic. But there was a kind of quiet desperation in her voice. I suppose I felt that if she talked about taking her life, she might mean it.’

  ‘And did she talk about taking her life?’

  ‘I think her words were: I’ve come to the end. I can’t take any more.’

  Jane remembered the woman she’d seen in the shop in Brae. She’d seemed calm, cheerful even. What had happened to change her life in the week since her contact with Simon? Had it been the man who’d collected her in the car? Had he made the difference to her? A voice in her head was screaming: At least it wasn’t Kevin. If it had been Kevin, you’d have recognized the car even in that weather.

  ‘And did she give you her name during that initial phone call?’ It was Perez again, as quiet and probing as a psychologist himself. ‘You said you told her yours.’

  Simon didn’t answer at once. ‘She said her name was Alissandra. But I can’t remember when she told me. It could have been over the phone or when she came in later that evening.’

  ‘Alissandra?
You’re sure.’ Perez seemed especially interested in that.

  ‘It was an unusual name,’ Simon said. ‘I thought it might be Greek. Of course it stuck in my memory.’

  Perez gave a little nod. ‘So she asked if she could come in and talk to you. What did you say?’

  ‘That she was welcome to do that, but that I’d only be there until nine-thirty.’

  ‘What was the time of the first call?’ Perez looked up from his coffee.

  ‘Eight-fifteen. I don’t know why, but I always make a note. I told her where to find us, but I had the impression that she’d already checked out our address. It’s on the website.’

  ‘And what time did she arrive?’

  ‘Twenty minutes later.’ Simon shut his eyes briefly as if he was remembering the encounter. ‘We have a waiting area where we can meet people. A couple of easy chairs and a coffee table. On the drop-in evenings we take in a kettle to make tea and coffee. It’s less formal than using the offices, where we see people during the day.

  Perez broke in with a question. ‘Is that usual? Someone phoning first on a drop-in night?’

  ‘It’s not unusual.’

  ‘I’m trying to picture it.’ Now it was Perez’s turn to close his eyes for a moment. ‘Do clients walk straight in from the pavement?’

  ‘There’s a buzzer on the door, after hours. I wasn’t expecting Alissandra to arrive so quickly and it made me jump rather. I hurried to let her in. Of course it was dark and raining and I didn’t want her to stand outside getting wetter than she already was.’

  ‘Once again, first impressions, please. If you wouldn’t mind.’

  ‘Honestly?’ Simon said. ‘That she was a very beautiful woman. When I let her in she was wearing a long coat. She took the coat off and shook it, and I saw her long dark hair and almost black eyes. When I saw the drawing you’ve been circulating I recognized her immediately. There was no doubt in my mind.’ There was a pause and he resumed his story of that night. ‘At first I didn’t think the person who walked in was the same woman who’d phoned. She seemed too confident and too controlled. Not in need of our help. But as she came further into the room she began to cry. Almost silently, you know, and then she gave a sob and held a handkerchief to her mouth as if the sound had been obscene and she needed to stop it happening again.’

  ‘What age would you say?’ Perez’s voice was very quiet and Jane, furthest away from him, struggled to make out the words.

  ‘Early forties. It was hard to tell.’

  ‘What did you do?’

  ‘Nothing at first. We both sat down and I waited for her to compose herself. There was a box of tissues on the table and I pushed it towards her. Eventually she started to speak.’ There was a silence in Jimmy Perez’s room. Jane supposed it was similar to the silence in the charity’s office as Simon waited for the woman to explain why she was so desperate. She thought Simon in work mode must be very different from the man she knew. That Simon was impatient and never waited for anyone. Now the psychologist continued, ‘First she apologized for being so emotional. She said she’d got into a mess and she could see no way out, apart from killing herself.’

  ‘What sort of mess?’

  Simon shook his head. ‘I’m sorry, Jimmy, but she wasn’t very specific. There seemed to be a lot of guilt. She talked about being trapped and about being worried about her family. She kept saying it was all her fault. Then suddenly she was quite calm again, as she’d appeared to be on the phone and when I’d first opened the door to her. She stood up and put on her coat. She’d put it over a chair close to the radiator, and I remember seeing it steaming while we were talking. She said of course she wouldn’t kill herself. There were people who depended on her, people who loved her. She’d panicked for a while, that was all. Now she felt rather foolish for taking up my time. She shook my hand as if we’d been having a professional meeting and she left. I called after her that she should ring back if ever she wanted to talk again, if ever she felt that she couldn’t cope on her own, but she didn’t reply.’

  There was silence and once more Jane could picture the scene in the charity’s office, the rain on the windowpane, the steam rising from the stylish coat, the box of tissues on the low table. Then the woman suddenly becoming quite controlled, almost dignified, and walking away into the night.

  ‘Is that how the woman appeared to you?’ Perez asked. ‘Like a professional woman? If you were to guess what work she did, what would you say?’

  ‘I suppose I assumed she was in the oil or gas business.’ Simon seemed surprised by the question. ‘Because of the way she spoke – her confidence once the tears were over. I imagined her heading up a team, having a certain responsibility.’

  ‘Alissandra’s a foreign name, as you say. Southern Mediterranean. Did she have an accent?’

  Simon paused for a moment. His voice was upper-class English. Sometimes Jane teased him about it.

  ‘Perhaps there was a trace of an accent, but if she came from overseas, her English was very good.’

  ‘Did you arrange to meet again?’

  There was a moment of silence.

  ‘No,’ Simon said. ‘I never expected to see her again.’

  Chapter Nine

  Perez walked to collect Cassie on Friday night – the Rogerson house was close to the police station – and glimpsed domestic scenes through uncurtained windows along the street. Happy families. Maybe. The door was opened by Kathryn’s father, Tom. Perez knew him by sight and had bumped into him at a couple of meetings. Tom was a solicitor, senior partner in a firm of lawyers who dealt with everything from divorce to crime, but much of his work seemed to involve one of the contractors at Sullom Voe. Perez served on a council working group that planned for disaster, if a tanker should hit the rocks or there was a major oil spill at the terminal, and Tom Rogerson was often present, either representing the contractor or in his role as councillor. It seemed ironic now that nobody had planned for the disaster of a landslide triggered by natural causes.

  Tom had worked in the south straight after university and only came home when his daughter was born.

  ‘Where better to bring up a child?’ he’d said when he first met Perez and found out that he had a stepdaughter. ‘I loved the freedom of being a kid here and my wife’s an Orcadian, so she felt just the same. It meant a drop in salary, but money’s not everything. Isn’t that right, Jimmy?’

  Now he stepped back to let Perez into the house. Perez remembered that they’d met on social occasions too, at a couple of weddings. One a marathon affair in Whalsay. Tom Rogerson was a great dancer, very light on his feet, and even just stepping away from the door he moved as if he had music in his head.

  ‘That Cassie’s a fine young lassie. The women have enjoyed every minute of having her here.’

  ‘I’m very grateful,’ Perez said. ‘But I hope the school will re-open on Monday and I won’t have to impose on you again.’ He realized that he sounded a little stuffy. Willow Reeves would have pulled a face and laughed at him, if she were there.

  ‘Aye well, Kathryn will know more about that. I’ve not long got in from work. You’ll stay for a cup of tea, Jimmy?’ And before Perez could answer, he was shouting through to the kitchen, ‘Put the kettle on, Mavis, the inspector has arrived for the bairn.’

  This time Cassie was in the living room, with a big box of dressing-up clothes. Kathryn had propped a long mirror against the wall so that the child could look at herself. As he walked past, Perez stuck his head in the room to say hello, but Cassie was engrossed in fastening a silk princess dress with a wide blue ribbon and only waved. Kathryn was in the kitchen drinking tea with her mother.

  ‘Cassie looks as if she’s having fun.’ Was he a failure as a father because he’d never thought Cassie might like dressing up?

  ‘I work with the Youth Theatre – the little ones – and there are always lots of costumes in the house.’ A pause. ‘She hasn’t been in all day, though. It cleared up a bit this afternoon, so we went fo
r a walk.’

  ‘I’m sure she’s had a great time.’

  The kettle squealed and Mavis refilled a big china pot standing on the Rayburn. ‘Help yourself to a scone, Jimmy. They’re just out of the oven.’

  He wanted to collect Cassie and take her home. In the quiet of his own house he could reflect on the information provided by Simon Agnew. But Perez knew it would be rude to insist on leaving without taking the tea and at least one scone. This family had provided free childcare for two days and the least he could do was accept their hospitality.

  ‘They’re saying that the woman swept away from Tain by the landslide was murdered,’ Tom said. ‘Is that right, Jimmy?’

  Perez didn’t ask who’d passed on that information. In Shetland news spread like a virus. ‘The death’s being treated as suspicious.’ He realized he sounded pompous again. ‘You don’t know anything about her? We think she was staying at Tain.’ Then there was a sudden thought and he turned to Kathryn. This was something he should have checked before, even though James Grieve had said the dead woman had never given birth. ‘You didn’t have any kids in the school from there, did you?’

  Kathryn shook her head. ‘We haven’t had any new children since I started, and none of our pupils live in Tain.’

  ‘What about you, Tom? Did you ever meet the woman? Dark hair, exotic-looking. Not local.’ Because Tom Rogerson seemed to know everyone. He provided a bridge between islanders and soothmoothers, the oil industry and environmentalists. With his easy manner and charm, he would invite confidences and gossip.

  ‘I don’t remember meeting her, Jimmy, and from the sound of her, I would remember, eh?’ He gave a roguish smile and what was almost a wink.

  Perez glanced at Mavis Rogerson, but there was no response. He’d heard rumours that Tom was a bit of a lady’s man, but perhaps he just enjoyed the reputation and played up to it. Perez thought Mavis Rogerson would know better than to take a daft middle-aged man’s showing-off too seriously. ‘You haven’t heard anything about the woman?’ he asked. ‘We still don’t have a name for her, but we think she might be called Alissandra. Maybe Alis for short.’