by Ann Cleeves
Willow thought that sounded a bit like the Agatha Christie disappearance; she did have a taste for popular fiction and had read about Christie vanishing, before turning up in a hotel in Harrogate some time later. ‘Was it just a publicity stunt?’
‘I don’t think so. One of the diners in the Ravenswick Hotel recognized her. Otherwise nobody would have known who she was. She spent all day on her own, out walking.’
‘So she’d come to Ravenswick.’ Perez was writing on the whiteboard now, frantically making connections before he lost their thread. ‘She might have come across Tain on one of her wanders through the countryside. She might even have met Minnie and Magnus.’
‘Was this last trip a return visit, do you think?’ Willow was following his train of thought. ‘For a similar reason. There was another crisis in her life and she saw Shetland as her sanctuary again. It could explain why she travelled under an assumed identity. Even if she’s not as famous as she was in the rest of the UK, a Shetlander might recognize her name.’
‘And the desperate call to Simon Agnew at Befriending Shetland fits in with her having some form of emotional turmoil or breakdown.’
‘We still need to know how she got hold of the keys to Tain.’ Willow felt a wave of optimism, now that their victim had an identity. Not only because it meant a shift in gear for the investigation, but because it might give Perez a more reasoned perspective on the case. A minor soap star with psychiatric problems was less entrancing, surely, than a mysterious dark-eyed stranger.
‘Someone in Shetland must have known her real identity and must have been protecting her.’ Perez was scribbling on the whiteboard again.
‘Tom Rogerson?’
‘He seems the obvious person. He has the reputation as a lady’s man and he had access to the keys.’
‘Would he have written the letter to Alis, do you think? The letter that Sandy found?’
There was a moment of complete silence in the room while Perez considered the question. ‘I don’t know,’ he said at last. ‘Maybe it’s best to keep an open mind.’
‘Magnus? Could he have written it before his stroke?’
This time Perez answered more quickly. ‘I know Magnus’s writing and I don’t think it’s his. We have the notebooks, though, and we can get them checked.’
Sandy reached out for the last chocolate biscuit. Willow thought he’d been eyeing it up for some time, waiting to see if anyone else wanted it, but now his arm shot out quickly, like the tongue of a fat snake. ‘So what are the plans for today?’
Willow got in before Perez. ‘We find out what Alison Teal had been doing since she last turned up in Shetland. I want to know everything about her. Work, family life, medical history. And Jimmy and I are going to visit a lawyer.’
It was Sunday, so the solicitors’ office in Commercial Street would be shut. Perez and Willow were still in the ops room; Sandy had returned to his office. ‘How do you want to play this?’ Willow wandered around the big table collecting rubbish and taking it to the bin, piling up cups. She was restless and couldn’t keep still. ‘You know the man, and I’ve never met him. Should we phone him first to warn him that we’re coming?’ She came to a stop and watched Perez.
‘I’m not sure,’ he said at last. There was a silence while he thought the idea through and then he chose his words. ‘Tom’s a committee man. A councillor. He has influence in the islands. Best to follow procedure, show some respect.’ Another pause. ‘Besides, he’s kind of slippery. I don’t think anyone really understands him, except maybe his family.’ Perez looked out of the window, before speaking again. ‘I know his daughter. Kathryn. She works at the Ravenswick school. She teaches Cassie.’
Willow thought that was another complication. It was always that way in a Shetland investigation; within the islands there was a web of relationships, personal and professional, blurred. Perez would feel awkward upsetting the Rogersons, because their daughter cared for his beloved Cassie. He wouldn’t let that get in the way of his work, but he’d be aware of it, over-compensating at times.
‘So you think we should ring first?’ Willow was starting to lose patience. She wanted to be away from the confines of the police station; it was time to start asking questions, to dig around in the solicitor’s life, to make it less comfortable.
‘It would be more polite.’
‘And who should do that, Jimmy? You or me? Let’s just get on with it, shall we?’
Again he took a moment to consider. ‘I’ll do it,’ he said in the end. ‘It would seem too formal coming from you and it might scare him off.’ He took his mobile from his jacket pocket and scrolled down the contacts list to find the number. In the corridor outside, somebody walked along whistling.
The phone rang for such a long time that Willow was expecting a recorded voicemail to kick in. But Perez hung on and, when it was answered, it soon became clear to her that it was Rogerson’s wife. Perez sat down at the corner of the conference table.
‘Hello, Mavis. I’m sorry to catch you at this ungodly hour on a Sunday.’
Willow couldn’t hear the response, but Perez gave a little chuckle. ‘No, it’s not Kathryn I’m after today, so you can let her have her beauty sleep. I was hoping we might have a couple of words with Tom. It’s kind of work-related and we’d like to ask his advice about something to do with this dead woman. We wondered if we could come round and disturb you. Relieve you of some of that baking maybe.’
Willow thought Perez was brilliant at this. The woman would be disarmed.
‘I see, I see.’ Perez pulled a face at Willow. This obviously wasn’t going to be as easy as simply bowling up to the Rogerson house and talking to the man. ‘And when are you expecting him back?’
A response from Mavis on the other end of the line.
‘So maybe the best thing would be to make an appointment to see him at the office on Tuesday morning. Do you have a mobile number for him? Yes, I understand reception can be a bit tricky there, but I might strike lucky, huh?’ Perez reached out for a pad left on the table after a previous meeting and scribbled down the number. ‘Goodbye, Mavis. And thanks to you and Kathryn for your help with Cassie last week. I appreciate it.’
‘Well?’ Willow was starting to think Rogerson was the key to the whole case. She was convinced now that he was the man who’d collected Alison Teal from the Co-op in Brae the day before the landslide.
‘He’s away to Orkney apparently. There’s an EU fisheries meeting there tomorrow and he won’t be home until the last flight on Monday.’
‘Convenient.’ Willow knew she sounded like a spoilt child but couldn’t help herself. ‘Why the need to fly down so early, if the meeting isn’t until tomorrow.’
‘According to Mavis, he has friends in Kirkwall. He was using the business trip as an excuse to catch up with them. She’s given me his business mobile number. She says that’s the one he’ll answer.’
Willow began to pace up and down the room again, trying to ease away her frustration with the movement.
‘Do you want me to phone him and get him back here?’ Perez waved the scrap of paper with the scribbled number. ‘He should be able to get on a plane today and take an early flight back to Orkney tomorrow morning before the meeting, if it’s so important that he’s there. Or we could go to Orkney to talk to him.’
Willow was tempted by that suggestion. She liked the idea of a dramatic chase down to Sumburgh to get onto a flight, visiting a group of islands unfamiliar to her, but she shook her head. ‘We don’t want Rogerson to think he’s that important to us. He’s a lawyer. As you say, slippery. Let’s use the extra days to find out a bit more about him, so that when we do meet we have something concrete to put to him.’
She wandered over to the window, then turned back to face the room and Jimmy Perez. ‘Let’s set up a meeting with his partner. Did you say his name was Taylor?’
Perez nodded. ‘Paul Taylor.’
‘Wasn’t he the person who drew up Minnie Laurenson’s will? It
would make sense, if he kept the keys to Tain. Besides, it would be good to get his perspective on his colleague before we meet up with Rogerson next week.’
Perez nodded.
Glancing back at the window, Willow saw that a rainbow was throwing its stained-glass colours across the grey street below.
Chapter Sixteen
They arrived late morning at Paul Taylor’s house and it was clearly a bad time to roll up. The solicitor had three young boys and they were fractious and bored, rolling around on the floor fighting.
‘I was just about to take them to the leisure centre.’ Taylor’s voice was English and tense. ‘Let them get rid of some of that energy in the pool. This time of year they seem to be stuck indoors all day.’ He looked out of the window as another shower blew against the glass.
His wife was in the kitchen, slamming pans. A dining table was already laid. Tablecloth and glasses, place settings for seven. ‘My parents came up for Up Helly Aa and decided to spend a little time in the islands. They’re staying in a hotel – for obvious reasons, they find that more civilized – but we’ve invited them to Sunday lunch . . .’ His voice tailed off again. Perez understood. His first wife, Sarah, had been a great one for family rituals, but always ended up resenting the effort involved.
‘We won’t take long.’ Willow sidestepped a flailing arm from the tangled heap on the floor and sat down on the sofa. This was a modern house in Gulberswick, a village just to the south of Lerwick and a prime commuting location. Large living room and four bedrooms, double garage and utility room. It would have fetched a southern price. ‘Just a few questions.’
Taylor nodded, parted the boys with some difficulty and sent them upstairs. ‘You can use the computer in the office. Fifteen minutes. Then we’ll head out to Clickimin for a bit, before we eat.’
There were whoops of joy as the boys pounded upstairs. Suddenly the room felt unnaturally quiet.
‘Your firm administers Tain, the house in Ravenswick that was wrecked in the landslide.’ Willow leaned forwards, her elbows on her knees. She looked relaxed, but the words were formal. ‘We’re wondering why you didn’t contact the police service when we asked for information about the owner.’
Taylor had taken an armchair with his back to the window. Perez was still standing.
‘I didn’t realize we did look after the property,’ Taylor said. ‘That’s routine stuff, and the girls in the office manage lettings for us.’
‘It formed part of a bequest in a will that you drew up.’ Willow was precise and firm. She could have been a lawyer herself. ‘The deceased was a Minnie Laurenson.’
‘It was that property!’ He seemed shocked.
Willow persisted. ‘You drew up the woman’s will. You must have known where she lived.’
‘No. We’d just moved to Shetland when Miss Laurenson came into the office to discuss her affairs. Now I’d be able to place the house, but then anywhere outside Lerwick was rather a mystery. The will was very straightforward. The house was to go to a niece in the States. Any remaining cash to a medical charity. I remember it so well because Minnie Laurenson was my first client in Shetland.’ He smiled. An attempt to charm Willow. It was a pleasant smile and Perez thought he probably used it often to get his own way.
But Willow refused to be charmed. ‘Last year the house was let out rent-free to Craig Henderson.’
‘Yes, we spoke to Miss Sechrest on the phone. She called us, in fact, and asked our opinion about allowing him to use it. Then she gave instructions for us to let him have the keys.’
‘Did you speak to Miss Sechrest personally?’
‘No, but I was in the main office when Marie, our admin person, took the call, so I was aware of what was said.’
‘You didn’t advise her against allowing a stranger to move into her house?’
Taylor shook his head. ‘He wasn’t quite a stranger. Craig’s family is known to us. We act for them in their business dealings. They have upmarket tourist accommodation. I couldn’t see that there would be a problem, if Ms Sechrest was happy with the arrangement. The house was fully insured.’
‘What happened to the keys when Craig went overseas again?’
‘I’m pretty sure he dropped them back into the office before he left, but as I say, one of the girls in the office would have taken them. There’s a locked cabinet where the keys to the properties that we administer are kept.’
‘So you’d be able to tell us if the Tain keys are still there?’
‘You want me to go to the office to check now?’ He sounded horrified. Upstairs, interest in the computer game seemed to be waning. There was a squawk of pain after what could have been a karate kick. Then a wail: ‘Dad!’
‘You could give us your office keys,’ Willow said, ‘and we could check for ourselves and just drop them through your door later, so we don’t disturb the family while you’re having lunch.’
Taylor hesitated, but only briefly. He took a bunch of keys from a hook in the entrance hall. ‘This is the front door and this one’s the door to reception. The cabinet’s in there, and this one will open it. The hooks inside are all labelled with the names of the property and the client.’
Perez waited for Taylor to take the individual keys from the ring, but instead he dropped the whole bunch into Willow’s waiting hand. She rewarded him with her own huge smile. ‘Thank you so much, Mr Taylor. Now we’ll leave you and your family in peace.’ At the door she hesitated, though. ‘Does the name Alison Teal mean anything to you?’
He was distracted by the kids upstairs and took no time to consider. ‘No. Should it?’ As they left the house he was yelling at the boys to get ready or they wouldn’t have time for a swim. Throughout the whole encounter his wife hadn’t appeared.
The solicitors’ office was on Commercial Street and formed a corner with one of the steep lanes leading up to the library. The street was almost empty and few shops were open. A chill breeze blew down it, occasionally scattering clouds for a moment to lighten the sky before the rain continued. One man stood huddled at the ATM at the bank close by, but he took no notice of them as they let themselves into the building. They walked into a narrow corridor and had to step over Saturday’s post lying on the laminate floor. To the right an unlocked door led to a seating area. This was presumably where clients waited to see the solicitor of their choice. A sliding glass window opened from there into the receptionists’ office: a desk with two computers, a stack of filing cabinets. This office was reached through a door that faced the main entrance. Willow fumbled a few times to find the right key, then she unlocked it and they walked in.
‘Why did Taylor give us access to all the offices?’ Willow stood in the middle of the small room and looked around. ‘Has he got nothing to hide or was it a kind of double bluff? To make us believe he’s not worried about what we might find.’
Perez shrugged. ‘He seemed genuine enough to me. Not a natural-born father, perhaps, but harassed and he just wanted us out of his house.’
The keys to the properties that the firm administered were in a narrow painted wooden cupboard on the interior wall. Inside there was a row of hooks, just as Taylor had described. The one labelled ‘Sechrest/Ravenswick’ held a ring with one Yale and one Chubb. ‘No mention of Tain,’ Willow said. ‘So Taylor might not have connected it with the house destroyed in the slip. He could be telling the truth.’
‘The fact that the keys are here doesn’t mean Alison Teal didn’t use them to get into the house.’ Perez thought they’d become fixated on the small details of the case and that he’d lost the bigger picture. He wanted to escape the office with its heavy furniture and bloated pot-plants. He thought they should have chased down Tom Rogerson in Orkney after all. ‘If Rogerson was helping the woman, he’d just have to make copies.’
‘Of course. But while we’re here, it would be crazy not to have a cheeky look into the offices.’ Willow held the bunch of keys by one finger and wiggled them until they made a jangling noise that jarred on
Perez’s nerves. ‘Mr Taylor gave these to us, after all. Of his own free will.’
The partners had offices on the first floor. Taylor’s looked out at the lane and faced the blank side of a large hotel. Even in summer the room must have been perpetually dark. Now they needed the light on, to see it in any detail. The desk was under the window and held a fierce anglepoise lamp and a photograph of three apparently angelic boys in identical hand-knitted jerseys. A second photo was of a woman who must be his wife. She had sharp, fox-like features and looked rather severe.
‘Hard to believe it’s the same family.’ Willow shot Perez a grin. He knew she’d never had much time for conventional relationships. The commune had affected her more than she was willing to let on. Perez thought it was unfair to make a judgement about people they’d only met briefly on a wet Sunday.
Rogerson’s office was at the front of the building and was the grander of the two, with a large desk that looked genuinely old, shelves of impressive textbooks, more shiny pot-plants on the windowsill and framed diplomas on the walls. Also on the wall, a photo of the man shaking Nicola Sturgeon’s hand. Another of Rogerson in a grinning group of men standing next to David Cameron. Willow was ranging around the room and nodded towards the pictures.
‘Keeping his options open,’ she said. ‘Is that the sort of man he is?’
Perez thought about that. ‘He’d always want to be on the winning side.’
‘Ah, that’s not criminal.’ She paused for a beat. ‘Unfortunately.’ She landed up in front of a filing cabinet and tried a number of keys until it opened.
‘Is that entirely legal?’
‘Taylor gave us the keys. He knew we wanted them to pursue our investigation.’
‘He wouldn’t expect us to pry into his clients’ affairs.’ Perez wished he didn’t sound so pompous.
‘You’re quite right, Jimmy, but let me just see if there’s a file for Alison Teal in here. If Rogerson is the man she met in Brae and in Mareel, he must have come across her at some point in the past, to develop the relationship – whatever that relationship was. I can just about imagine Magnus Tait falling for Alison’s charms when she first visited the islands, and being happy with a signed photo, but that doesn’t seem credible for Tom Rogerson.’ Willow looked up. ‘You said Rogerson worked in the south for a while. Would he even have been in Shetland when Ms Teal did her disappearing act?’
