by Ann Cleeves
‘She was the reason we came to Shetland. I met her a few times. Years ago, of course. At a party in London held by a mutual friend, at a gallery when she had her first exhibition there. She was a bit younger than me. But I loved her art and I watched her progress when she settled here. Daniel did too. That was what drew us here.’
Perez nodded towards the little girl playing in the water, damming the stream to form a pool. ‘That’s her daughter – that’s Cassie. I look after her, though I’m not her biological father.’ He paused for a moment and felt the need to explain. ‘Duncan, her dad, is a bit flaky, and Fran kind of bequeathed her to me before she died.’
‘I know,’ Helena said. ‘I heard.’ She gave him a quick grin. ‘Shetland’s not the place for secrets, is it?’
‘Ah, you’d be surprised.’
‘I’ll go,’ she went on. ‘I said I wouldn’t be long. Daniel’s great with the kids, but they’re not the easiest.’
‘You should bring them round sometime. Cassie likes having new folk to play with.’
She gave another quick grin and he saw how she and Fran might have been friends. ‘They’re both a bit bonkers. Not really house-trained.’
Perez nodded towards Cassie, whose arms were covered in mud as far as her elbows. ‘I’m not sure that we’re really house-trained, either.’ He felt in his jacket pocket for a scrap of paper and a pencil and scribbled down his mobile-phone number. ‘If anything else unusual happens – anything at all – give me a shout.’
He watched Helena walk down the bank to her van. She stopped on the way to chat to Cassie, who stood up. He couldn’t hear what was said, but the conversation seemed animated and friendly. Once more Perez felt well disposed towards the strange woman; he didn’t mind after all that she’d turned up on his doorstep.
Chapter Five
Helena didn’t go to her studio on Sundays. When they’d first moved to Deltaness she’d worked every free second, desperate to build the business, to cement the contacts she already had with retailers in London and Europe. She’d been the main earner, of course, and while they’d had some savings, she’d known they wouldn’t last forever. Daniel had been the person to collect the kids from school, to give them tea. For Helena, work had become an escape and an obsession. She’d never been a multitasker. One project at a time captured her imagination and filled her thoughts. She hadn’t even noticed that Daniel was feeling so stressed until he’d burst into tears one evening, as they were preparing to go out for dinner with friends. She’d come out of the shower to find him in their bedroom sobbing. The door was open and both children were standing there looking in at him, while Helena dripped on the bare wooden floor.
‘What’s the matter?’ Ellie had seemed most distressed. ‘What’s the matter with Daddy?’
Helena had sent them down to the kitchen with soft words, the offer of biscuits and usually forbidden fizzy drinks, and she’d taken Daniel into her arms. The towel had fallen to the floor and now she remembered the rough wool of his jersey against her skin. She’d made promises that she wasn’t sure she’d keep: that she’d work less, spend more time with the children, more time with him. She’d still insisted that they go out for dinner with Robert and Belle that night, though. She’d been looking forward to the evening, to lively conversation and getting out of the house. To laughing again. She’d thought she’d go mad if she didn’t have someone else to talk to. ‘It’ll do you good,’ she’d said to Daniel, not really believing it, knowing even as she spoke that she was being selfish.
She had kept most of the promises. She tried to do much of her work while the kids were at school. She collected them at least a couple of times a week. She encouraged Daniel to follow his own interests. And she kept Sunday free for family time.
Today they decided they’d head out for a long walk in the morning. Belle Moncrieff had phoned the night before, asking if Helena would help with the Sunday teas, the community fundraising event, but that was the last thing she needed.
‘Sorry, we’ve planned an expedition with the kids. Get them away from computer screens and out into the open air.’
Packing a picnic, she thought of Jimmy Perez, dark-haired and scruffy. Kind. She decided she’d take him up on his offer and visit him in Ravenswick again.
They trekked north, ignoring Christopher’s complaints about the long walk. Daniel showed the children the otters at Suksetter and Helena skimmed pebbles and watched Ellie play in the sand at the edge of the shore. She was reminded of Cassie Hunter, and again of the detective with the Spanish name and dark good looks, felt a moment of lust and wondered how things would be if she were single. Then she thought that, without any responsibility at all, she wouldn’t know who she was. The responsibility, like her anxiety about Daniel and the kids, gave her a role in life. She wasn’t sufficiently brave to carve out her own identity. The work – the designs – were unimportant compared to caring for these people.
Back at the house, the children were tired and Christopher disappeared into his room. Ellie whined to be taken to the Sunday teas at the Deltaness hall, but Helena still couldn’t face it. She had more important things on her mind. A family to protect. Daniel hid himself away in his office. He was probably transferring wildlife images from his camera onto the computer. They’d built big windows into the east of the house, and the sun drenched the kitchen with light and heat. Ellie wandered out into the garden to play. Helena, sitting in the rocking chair, felt herself drowsing. This was allowed, after all. It was Sunday, their day of rest. But she still had work to do, despite her promise to Daniel, and she made her way outside.
When she returned to the kitchen, she’d lost all sense of time. Sun still came through the window and it was warm in the room. Ellie was bouncing on the trampoline on the grass outside and Helena was reassured by the sight of her, but she felt a little dizzy and disorientated. She wasn’t wearing a watch and the clock above the cooker needed a battery. She switched on the kettle, went out to the hall and shouted to Daniel to ask if he’d like tea. His office door was shut and there was no answer. She was about to go in when she heard a noise from outside the house, a strange yelping that she recognized immediately. It was the sound Christopher made when he was disturbed or excited. She thought Ellie must have persuaded him outside to join in a game.
Helena opened the door and looked out into the courtyard that was formed by her workshop, converted from some of the original croft buildings, and the house. Christopher was standing there, obviously disturbed, shaking. She went out to him. ‘What’s happened?’ He didn’t answer and she saw the panic still in his eyes. She went up to him and held him, very tight, against her body. Christopher hated light touches, arms around the shoulders, his hair being stroked, but sometimes he responded to a firm embrace. This time, though, it didn’t work. He remained tense and pushed her away.
‘Can you tell me what’s wrong?’ She kept her voice cool. Christopher didn’t respond well to emotion of any sort.
He shook his head, took her hand and pulled her towards the byre. This was the only building they still hadn’t renovated. When they’d bought the house, Helena had thought one day it might be converted into a self-contained home for Christopher, if it turned out he couldn’t manage on his own in the big world, if he still needed their support when he was an adult. It stood a little apart, behind her workrooms. It was where Daniel had found Dennis Gear.
The double door that led in was rotten and had fallen on its hinges and it was left propped open. Inside, the only light came from the half-open door and one window high in the wall.
A body hung from one of the beams. The noose was made of nylon rope. Helena didn’t panic and was surprised at how calm she felt, how well she held things together. The scene was like one of the small anonymous drawings, brought to life, though this wasn’t a replica of the dead Dennis Gear. It was a young woman, wearing a dress. She had bare legs. No shoes. Helena pushed Christopher away.
‘Don’t look. Stay outside.’
> When he was gone, she went closer, touched an ankle. It was cold, lifeless. There was no point trying to get the body down, even if that had been physically possible, even if she could bear to do it.
She shifted position and looked up, so she could see the woman’s face, and for a moment her stomach heaved and she thought she might be physically sick. It was Emma Shearer, the nanny who worked for Belle and Robert Moncrieff. She’d been one of the gossiping group who’d turned towards Helena when she’d gone to collect the kids the Friday before. Belle thought the world of her, but Helena had never taken to Emma, even on their first meeting. She’d been polite in the little conversation they’d had during those first encounters, helpful enough, picking up Ellie occasionally if Helena had been running late. But somehow knowing, superior, critical. I didn’t like her and now she’s dead. As if her dislike was to blame for the woman’s death. As if that had been enough to kill her.
She heard a noise behind her and turned, thinking that Christopher had come back in, determined to send him away again. But Daniel was standing in the doorway, framed by the bright light outside. She could only see him as a silhouette, but she heard him gasp and thought what a shock this must be for him. He’d found Dennis Gear’s body in exactly the same place. What’s happening to us? Why is our life here falling apart?
She went over to him and pushed him into the sunshine. ‘Where’s Christopher?’
‘I don’t know.’ He looked back into the barn. ‘Shouldn’t we try to get her down?’
‘No point. She’s dead. The police would want us to leave her there.’ Helena knew because her guilty viewing passions, late at night, when the others were all asleep, were the true-crime shows on television. Just like her son.
She’d already put Jimmy Perez’s number into her phone and she pressed the buttons now and waited for him to answer.
Chapter Six
Perez decided to go to the Deltaness Sunday teas. It would be something to do with Cassie; the weather was fine and he might pick up scraps of information about the Fleming family, some understanding at least of the tensions within the community. Often Cassie spent Sundays with Duncan Hunter, her natural father, but this week he was south on one of his mysterious business trips and she was resentful and moody, blaming Perez, not Duncan. Duncan spoilt her, let her stay up all night, then let her down. The overseas trips were becoming more frequent. Perez thought that unfettered access to cake, and the chance to meet up with other bairns, might lift Cassie’s spirits. He decided it was unlikely the Flemings would be there; the teas would be full of gossip and he suspected Helena would make sure to keep well away.
In the car north, Cassie hardly spoke. It had been a battle to persuade her to come at all; she would have preferred a DVD and a lazy afternoon slouched on the sofa. She was plugged into a story tape and grunted occasionally when he asked her a question. He wondered how it would be when she was a teenager. The weather was still fine, sunny with a south-easterly breeze to keep away any fog. The car park at the community hall was already busy when they arrived. On the way into the building Perez nodded to a few people he knew – a woman he’d been to school with, and Robert Moncrieff, the GP who covered Northmavine. There were more familiar faces inside. He dropped cash into a bucket on the table near the door and queued with Cassie for home-bakes. They found space at a trestle table covered with a white cloth and a woman appeared as if from nowhere with a giant teapot to fill his cup. On the low stage, a couple of teenagers were playing the fiddle. Cassie saw Moncrieff’s youngest daughter, a girl she knew from her gymnastics club, at another table and she ran off to join her. Perez sat and listened to the conversation that eddied around him.
Two women came to sit opposite him. He decided they must be sisters; they were both in their sixties, with the same square jaws; one was stocky, big-boned, the other slight with thin white hair. He thought perhaps the thinner sister was deaf because they spoke loudly, and their voices carried above the background conversation. But perhaps they just liked an audience. He didn’t know them, but he thought he’d seen the bigger one before; she’d once worked in the bank in Lerwick. At first, he thought she was speaking about an ancient relative.
‘I do think he’d be better off in a home, don’t you, Lottie?’ She paused then added: ‘That Fleming boy.’
The sister had her mouth full of scone and could only nod.
‘At the moment, he’s a danger to himself and everyone else. Who knows what he might do next? They can’t control him. They let him wander. He might burn us in our own homes.’ Her voice was self-righteous, but Perez thought she’d probably be delighted if someone died as a result of Christopher’s behaviour. It would provide a subject for conversation for years.
The sister had emptied her mouth. ‘The mother seems a fine enough woman.’
‘I’d say she was taking liberties. Coming to the islands and using our wool and our patterns to make her fortune.’ The first speaker paused briefly to take a sip of tea. ‘And not respecting the real traditions. If you ask me, I’d say she’s just a user.’
Perez pictured Helena Fleming with her fierce determination to fight for her family. He wanted to break in and tell the woman that she was being unfair, but he thought that would only make things worse for the Flemings. He couldn’t stand listening to the bile, so he got to his feet and looked for somewhere else to sit.
He’d been to school with Robert Moncrieff and remembered him as sporty, a bit aloof. Perez had been a loner when he first moved from the small school in Fair Isle to board at the Anderson High. There’d been low-level bullying and he’d been homesick. Robert’s father had been a doctor too, working in the Gilbert Bain Hospital, at a time when most of the boys came from crofting or fishing families. Now, Perez thought it couldn’t have been easy for the young Moncrieff to fit in, either. The inspector wandered over to the man, who shifted his chair to make room for Perez. The doctor was looking at the end of the hall, where Cassie and her friend were doing handstands against the wall.
‘Look at those two monkeys.’ Moncrieff’s youngest daughter, Kate, was a little younger than Cassie. ‘They seem to get on fine, seeing as they only get together at the gym club.’
‘Maybe it’s easier to stay friends if you only meet up once in a while.’
‘Aye, maybe.’ The doctor paused. ‘Little girls can be such bitches.’
‘Not only little girls.’
‘Ah,’ Moncrieff said, ‘I see you’ve just escaped the Deltaness witches.’ He nodded towards the sisters. ‘Lottie’s not so bad, if you get her on her own, but Margaret Riddell lives on a diet of malice, gossip and rumour. Her husband left her because he couldn’t stand it and has moved in with a Latvian waitress half his age who works at the Kveldsro Hotel in town.’
‘So, she’s become the subject of gossip herself?’ Perez grinned. Even so, he found it hard to feel sorry for the woman.
‘Indeed.’
‘They were talking about the Fleming boy.’
‘Were you involved in that business?’ Moncrieff seemed surprised. ‘Something and nothing, I’d have thought, setting fire to a pile of waste paper in the school yard. There was no damage done.’
‘No,’ Perez said. He only remembered then that Helena had spoken of the boy playing with matches at school. ‘We weren’t involved.’ The teenage fiddlers finished a tune and there was a round of applause. Perez turned back to Moncrieff. ‘Do you know the family?’
‘Our younger kids meet theirs at school, and we’ve had Daniel and Helena round for supper a couple of times. We’ve been to their house for drinks, a family barbecue earlier in the year. You know what it’s like in a place like Deltaness, Jimmy. Any newcomer is a source of interest and entertainment. Belle was delighted when they moved in. She thought they’d read The Guardian and we could have intelligent discussions about art and literature.’
‘And did you?’ Robert’s wife Belle had grown up in England. Perez couldn’t remember quite what she’d done for a living be
fore moving to Shetland. Something in PR perhaps? Now she was a stay-at-home mother to four children and an active member of more voluntary organizations than Perez could list. Today she was in the hall kitchen, buttering bannocks. He’d glimpsed her as he came in.
‘We did with Helena. Daniel’s pretty hard-going. A bit intense and given to long and introspective silences.’
‘He found Dennis Gear’s body,’ Perez said, though he was sure Moncrieff must already know that. ‘Apparently it shook him up and he can’t quite get over it.’
‘Of course, poor chap. That might explain it then.’ Moncrieff waved his cup at a young woman who was passing by with a teapot. ‘I should be more sympathetic.’
‘You’re not his GP?’
‘No, I think the Flemings signed up with the health centre in Brae. And of course even if I were his doctor, Jimmy, I wouldn’t be discussing Daniel’s condition with you.’
‘What does the rest of Deltaness make of them?’
Moncrieff paused for a moment. ‘Most of our neighbours are very tolerant people. We’re used to welcoming strangers. From the Vikings on, there’ve been invaders in the islands.’
‘Daniel and Helena Fleming are hardly invaders.’ Kate and Cassie had moved outside and were doing backflips on the grass outside the hall. Perez watched them and wondered what it would feel like if Cassie were the centre of malicious gossip. He thought he’d feel murderous.
‘Of course not. And Dennis Gear’s house was in a dreadful state when they bought it, but they haven’t had an easy time settling in. None of the locals wanted to take on the place – it was too much of a project. Which doesn’t stop the muttering, now it’s finished, about soothmoothers coming in and buying up all the best places.’
‘And maybe there’s a bit of guilt about the way Dennis Gear killed himself? Easier to blame the English family than to think they might have done more to support the man while he was alive.’ Perez wondered if Gear had returned to Deltaness to kill himself as an accusation aimed at the community rather than the Fleming family. He’d probably never met them.
