Cold Earth

by Ann Cleeves

  The reporter pressed her on that, but Alison refused to go into more detail about her brother.

  Sandy was already scribbling notes. Unless Alison had taken a stage name, she could have inherited the name Teal from her father, and so probably from her paternal grandparents. And now Sandy had the name of the Norfolk town where they’d all lived. Alison had been forty-two when she died, so it was just possible that one of the grandparents was still alive. He could get on the phone to the local force and see if they could trace them. If Jonathan Teal was still in the army, it would be easy enough to get hold of him too. Jimmy Perez would be delighted if they could inform a relative of her death – if they could find a person who’d been close to her and who might grieve for her. Sandy returned to the interview in the newspaper.

  ‘How did you get into acting?’ Sandy imagined the reporter as older than Alison, rather cool and sophisticated.

  ‘That was just luck! A friend was a member of a drama club and she dragged me along. I wasn’t that keen, to begin with. I couldn’t see the point of the warm-up exercises, all that prancing around and improvisation. But once they gave me a script, I was away. It was a chance to be someone else for a bit, I suppose. A kind of escape. My grandparents weren’t sure at first. They thought I should get a more secure job. But they could see how much I loved it and, when I got a place in drama school, they were as pleased as punch.’

  ‘Getting the part of Dolly in Goldsworthy Hall must have been your big break.’

  ‘Yeah! I mean, I’d done a bit of stage work and a few ads for telly, but I was only a year out of drama school when I got it, and I suppose it changed my life. It was weird walking down the street and having people shouting after me, as if I really was Dolly. I think it turned my head a bit too. All that recognition. Suddenly having money to spend. I got a bit wild and stupid. You’d have thought I’d know drugs were a mistake, after my mum and dad, but I guess it was a confidence thing. I didn’t feel I belonged in that life. Not really. And I needed something to help me face it. In the end, it all fell apart. It must have been some kind of breakdown. I found myself dreaming up better and better ways of killing myself. That became almost an addiction of its own. Then I was watching the weather on the telly one night and on the map I saw Shetland. Miles to the north, but still part of the UK. And I thought, Well, I’m right on the edge. What better place to go?’

  Sandy was imagining himself in the role of the interviewer now. It was almost as if he was questioning Alison as part of the investigation. He would have fixed on the practical details and asked Alison about driving to Aberdeen, getting onto the boat. Perez always said that facts cemented a witness in reality. It stopped people creating stories and turning their lives to fiction. But the journalist skipped all that and had already moved on.

  ‘Were you aware of the response in the English media to your disappearance?’

  ‘Not at all. In my eyes, I hadn’t disappeared, had I? I knew exactly where I was. And I didn’t see any English papers when I was in Shetland. I never watched the TV news.’

  ‘You didn’t think of letting your family know? Or your colleagues on Goldsworthy Hall?’

  Sandy pictured Alison pausing at this, thinking about the question and how best to answer it. Her response seemed very honest to him.

  ‘Not really, no. I was depressed, you see. And depressed people are very selfish. I could only think about my own feelings. I’d shut everyone else out. It was my way of making myself better.’

  Outside the police station Sandy saw a group of women who must be on their way to the chapel further down the street. They were wearing waterproofs and the wind seemed to carry them down the hill, making them run with little footsteps, struggling to stay upright. He turned back to the printed paper on his desk and made another note. It might be worth talking to the woman who’d interviewed Alison. There could have been confidences that had never been printed. Sandy wouldn’t want to do that himself; he thought a London journalist would be intimidating, and anyway she would probably respond better to a more senior officer. The woman’s name was Camilla White and that seemed to fit in with the classy image Sandy already had for her. Her next question had been about Alison’s first stay in Shetland.

  ‘So you arrived into Shetland on the ferry. What were your first impressions of the island?’

  ‘It was winter, so it was dark and rainy and I couldn’t see much. I’d only packed a few things into a small bag. There was a taxi outside the ferry terminal and I asked him to take me to the best hotel on the island. He said that would be the Ravenswick, so that was where we went. When they asked me my name at reception, I didn’t want to tell them who I was. I didn’t want anyone recognizing me. So I called myself Susie Black. That was my mother’s name before she was married.’

  Sandy made another scribbled note on the paper in front of him. If Alison’s mother was still alive, they now had her maiden name as well as her married name. It should be easy to trace her now. He thought how pleased Jimmy Perez would be to have all this information and found himself smiling again.

  In the newspaper, Alison was describing her stay in the islands. ‘I didn’t have a car, so I couldn’t explore very much away from the hotel. I walked for miles, though. The day after I arrived, the weather suddenly changed. It was clear and sunny, very cold. I’d wake up to frost in the hotel garden, and the sea was blue and still. I’ve always loved the sea, since Jono and I moved out to Norfolk. That weather made the island seem like a kind of magic place. All bright and glistening. They sold local knitwear in the hotel, so I bought a jersey to keep warm and just went out walking every day. I met some local people on my wanders. There was one elderly chap called Magnus, who took me into his house and told me stories about the islands. He had a raven in a cage. The stories were about little people who lived underground and played fantastic music. Looking back, it seems like a hallucination. I’m not even sure all that really happened.’

  Oh yes, Sandy thought, it happened.

  ‘Then you were recognized?’ The question took them towards the bottom of the page, so Sandy could tell that the interview was about to come to an end. He read on quickly to find out Alison’s response.

  ‘Yeah, I suppose it was going to happen eventually. A local man, a lawyer, came into the hotel for a meal with his wife. I was in the restaurant eating dinner and could see him looking over at me. Then he’d start whispering to his wife. I could tell that would mean the end of my retreat. Because that was what it had been like, a kind of religious retreat. When I saw the man staring, it felt like the world had come back to get me. He came up to my table when he was on his way out and said I was all over the papers in the south and that they were making a great drama of it. They were making out that I was hiding away in rehab, or that I’d taken an overdose. He offered not to tell anyone, if I needed a bit longer to myself, but I realized I’d have to face them all in the end. I phoned my agent that night.’

  Sandy thought the lawyer must have been Tom Rogerson. Who else would it be? But if that was the case, how had he not recognized Alison Teal when they’d circulated the drawing of the dead woman’s face? She’d certainly aged in the last fifteen years, but she hadn’t changed that much. And it would have been Tom Rogerson who had collected her from the Brae Co-op and sat with her in Mareel. He could see how Alison might have kept in touch with him over the years. He’d offered to keep her secret and she’d surely have been grateful for that. Had she asked for his help again? And if they’d got on so well together, what could be his motive for killing her?

  Sandy set those questions aside. Willow and Jimmy would be the people to answer them. He put the printed article on Perez’s desk, returned to his own office and was about to start making the calls that would help them to trace Alison Teal’s relatives. But before he could lift the receiver, the phone rang. On the other end of the line was a woman with a very loud voice. She announced herself as Genevieve Winter. This, it seemed, was Alison Teal’s agent, returning his cal
l.

  Chapter Nineteen

  They all caught up over tea and sandwiches in the basement kitchen of the guest house where Willow was staying. Rosie set the refreshments on the table, said she was going to put her feet up and left them to their discussions.

  Even Vicki Hewitt was there, and Willow turned to her first.

  ‘Anything new from the scene?’

  Vicki shook her head. ‘I’ve pretty well finished looking at the debris caught up behind the wall. Nothing’s jumped out at me as being significant. I’ll send it south as soon as I can, and I’ll start inside the house tomorrow.’

  ‘But Sandy, it seems, has had a very productive morning.’

  Willow had already read the Independent article, but she’d asked Sandy to print out more copies and he passed them round the table.

  ‘So this is an interview Alison Teal gave to the journalist Camilla White a little while after her disappearance fifteen years ago.’ He looked serious, like a schoolboy asked to speak in front of the class.

  Perez interrupted. ‘Is it exactly fifteen years?’

  ‘Aye, almost to the day. She arrived in Shetland on the last day of January.’

  ‘So maybe she saw it as an anniversary trip. Could that be the reason for the champagne?’

  ‘Rather than because she was feeling desperate again, you mean?’ Willow thought either explanation would work. ‘Let’s not get bogged down with speculation just now. Carry on, Sandy.’

  ‘It’s clear from the article that Alison met at least two people while she was here: Magnus Tait and a lawyer who’s almost certainly Tom Rogerson. Nobody else is mentioned specifically, but it’s possible that she came across other islanders.’

  ‘Yeah, that’s certainly suggested.’ Willow nodded for him to continue.

  ‘Alison mentions a number of family members too, and talks a bit about her troubled childhood. So now we know she has a brother called Jonathan who went into the army, that her mother’s maiden surname was Black and her first name Susie, and that Alison’s grandparents lived in Cromer. The article says that Susie and her partner were addicts and handed the children over to Alison’s paternal grandparents to be cared for. It seems likely that social services were involved, and they too will have records.’

  ‘Tell us then, Sandy. How many of them have you tracked down?’

  This was Vicki, teasing, but Sandy took the question seriously. ‘Jonathan Teal was the easiest to find. He left the army five years ago as a corporal with the paratroopers. He’s serving time in Wormwood Scrubs for armed robbery. He and a friend held up a family shop in Norwich. Nobody was hurt, but Teal was the person waving a gun around.’

  ‘Which is very interesting and perhaps adds something to our understanding of the family,’ Willow said, ‘but it means that he couldn’t have been in Shetland strangling his sister.’

  ‘Norfolk Police are trying to trace the grandparents and parents.’ Sandy looked at his notes. ‘It’s probable that at least one of the grandparents has died, but they’re checking all that out. The parents both have records for drug-related offences, but they seem to have dropped out of the system not long after Alison’s first jaunt to Shetland.’

  ‘So they got clean,’ Perez said.

  ‘Or they got clever.’ Willow wondered if there was some significance in the timing of all this, but she couldn’t work out what it might be.

  ‘And then,’ Sandy said, ‘I spoke to Alison’s agent. A woman called Genevieve Winter.’

  ‘Impressive name.’

  ‘She’s a very impressive woman.’ Willow jumped in at this point. ‘She spoke to Sandy first, but she claimed not to understand him, so I phoned her back later.’

  ‘She got me flustered.’ Sandy was turning red. ‘I tried knapping, honestly, but she still didn’t seem to get what I was saying.’

  ‘Probably because she didn’t stop talking long enough to listen.’

  ‘Knapping?’ Vicki raised an eyebrow.

  ‘Losing the accent, for the benefit of soothmoothers,’ Perez said. ‘They expect us to understand Geordie or cockney, but they won’t make the effort to understand us.’

  ‘And this was a particularly arrogant woman.’ Willow pulled a face. ‘But in the end I did shut her up long enough to give her the news that Alison was dead. She had no contact details for a next of kin, but she was able to tell me something about Alison’s recent career. Such as it was.’

  ‘How did she respond to the news of Alison’s death?’ Perez poured more tea from the huge pot.

  ‘Honestly? I don’t think she was very bothered. Alison had stopped making her much money years ago. And Ms Winter made it very clear that her business as an agent was all about making money.’ Willow paused and then tried to order her thoughts, to sum up the last years of Alison’s life. ‘Dolly the housemaid – the character Alison played in the costume drama – was killed off very soon after Alison went to Shetland. Alison had got the reputation of being unreliable, and as Ms Winter told me: “Darling, there’s nothing worse for a young actor. Directors hate it.” She got some work immediately after that: a small part in a soap, a panto the following Christmas, some reality show on Channel Five, but about seven years ago the parts dried up altogether. Genevieve still put Alison in for auditions, but recently she’d stopped even doing that.’

  ‘So that could explain her trip to Shetland,’ Sandy said. ‘If the lack of work had brought on another bout of depression. I haven’t managed to get her medical records yet, or speak to social services. Because it’s a Sunday, nobody’s working.’

  ‘It would be useful to know if she’d been working in any capacity at all recently.’ Willow thought it sounded as if Alison’s life had stopped completely, several years ago.

  ‘I think she must have been.’ Sandy again. Tentative. ‘The clothes in the house at Tain all looked pretty classy. She couldn’t have bought them if she was on benefit.’

  ‘Good point, Sandy. All the witnesses who’ve seen her in Shetland describe her as well dressed. And according to Jimmy, she gave Simon Agnew the impression that she was normally confident and in control. That doesn’t sound like an unemployed actor. And she’d be unlikely to be splashing her money around on champagne if she was skint. Even if there was a special offer at the Co-op.’

  They sat for a moment in silence. The breeze had dropped and outside it was quite still and silent.

  ‘Do we know if Alison had a partner?’ Perez said. ‘Or even if she’d married?’

  ‘You’re hoping she had some romance in her life?’ Sometimes, Willow thought, Perez was the soppiest man in the world. ‘I did ask Genevieve. She said she couldn’t imagine Alison settling down. “She was always rather a wild child, darling. There was usually some poor bloke in tow. Or, rather, some rich bloke. She went in for sugar daddies. But commitment very definitely wasn’t her thing.”’

  There was a moment of silence.

  ‘So where do we go from here?’ Willow looked at them, spread out around the table, surrounded by empty plates and scraps of food. They were like a family, she thought, with herself and Perez as the parents and Vicki and Sandy as the kids. It felt a responsibility.

  ‘The first priority is to speak to Tom Rogerson,’ Perez said. ‘He misled us about knowing Alison, he had access to the keys at Tain and his car fits the description of the vehicle that collected her from Brae.’

  ‘What time does his plane get in from Orkney tomorrow?’

  ‘He’s booked on the early evening flight.’

  ‘Should we meet that?’ Willow thought again that she and Perez were like grown-ups, this time taking decisions that were beyond the responsibility of the kids. ‘Or let him get home and visit him there later?’

  Perez took a while to consider. He never rushed a decision. ‘Maybe it would be safest to meet the flight. I’d hate to lose him. If Taylor tells him we’ve been to the office, he might be jumpy.’

  ‘Hard to lose a suspect in Shetland.’

  ‘Maybe.’ He
gave her one of his slow smiles. ‘But there are lots of islands. Lots of places to hide. I’d be more worried that he might destroy evidence that we could use later. He could be keeping stuff at home.’

  ‘Where his wife could find it? If we think Tom was having an affair with Alison Teal, would that be likely?’

  Another pause. ‘Mavis, his wife, strikes me as a woman who would prefer not to know what her husband gets up to. I don’t think she’d go sneaking through his things.’

  Willow ran through the evidence they had against Rogerson. There was nothing concrete. Nothing at all that they could present to a court. ‘I’d love to find a definite connection between him and Alison Teal.’

  Perez pulled a plastic evidence bag from his pocket. Inside was the note he’d retrieved from the bin in the solicitor’s office. ‘I thought we’d get this off to a handwriting expert, along with a page from Magnus Tait’s notebook, and see if we can find a match with the letter Sandy found in Tain. Rogerson’s writing looks like a match to me.’

  ‘You think Tom was her lover?’ Willow couldn’t quite see how that played out now. ‘But according to the article, Tom recognized Alison in the hotel and the next day she flew back to London. She doesn’t talk about seeing him again.’

  Perez shrugged. ‘People lie. And they make up good stories to cover their tracks.’

  Another silence. Sandy and Vicki were listening, but they made no attempt to interrupt. Willow spoke next.

  ‘Do you think it’s safe to let Rogerson come back on his own from Orkney? There’s nothing to stop him getting a flight south.’

  ‘I don’t think he’ll run away from Shetland,’ Perez said. ‘He’s got too much to lose here. He likes the power and authority of being a councillor. Rogerson’s a classic big fish in a small pool. I think that’s why he came home in the first place.’

  ‘So we wait for him at the airport?’

  ‘I think so.’ Perez had already thought this through. ‘His car’s there. I checked. So nobody will be coming to collect him. Let’s make it informal.’