'Of course I know it wasn't,' he said lightly. 'You're the one person it couldn't have been I was with you all night.' He went up to her and put his hands on her shoulders, pulled her towards him and kissed her forehead. 'I'll always remember that evening. Not for the murder that was work and in time it'll be an interesting case, nothing more but because it was the first night I spent with you.'

He rinsed out his mug under the tap and set it carefully on the draining board. She stood at the door and watched him walk to his car. Soppy git, she thought. Then, So he is serious about me, after all. That she found a little scary. She stared out over Raven Head, lost in thought, until he drove away.

Chapter Nineteen.

Perez arrived at the school in Middleton at eight-fifteen. He reckoned Dawn should already be there by then, but the kids wouldn't have arrived. He didn't want to talk to her in Biddista with Martin in attendance, though he wasn't sure why. Perhaps because Martin would try to lighten the conversation, would shy away from any serious discussion. Perez knew the teacher by sight but he'd never spoken to her. She hadn't been a part of the family when Martin's father drowned.

The school was a low modern building, with a football pitch to one side and a playground to the other. It looked over a narrow inland loch. A bit of a breeze had blown up and the water was whipped into small waves. The children came from the houses scattered over the surrounding hill and from settlements as far as the coast. Like all the Shetland schools Middleton was well maintained and well equipped. The oil had brought problems to some communities but it had its benefits too. Shetland Islands Council had negotiated a good deal with the companies to bring the oil ash.o.r.e and the income had been channelled into community projects.

There was already a line of cars parked in the yard and the main door was unlocked. No one was in the office and he wandered through to one of the cla.s.srooms. A young bearded man was writing on the board.

'I'm looking for Mrs Williamson.' Perez hovered at the door. Even this school was much bigger than the room in Fair Isle where he'd sat to do his lessons, but the smell was familiar.

'Are you one of the dads?' The man was polite enough, but hardly friendly. Perez wondered what it was about schools that made him uneasy. Maybe all adults felt exactly the same way. Too big and clumsy for a place built for children. He supposed a stranger walking into his working environment would be intimidated too. Then he thought he would love to be a dad. It was something he'd always wanted. He wouldn't mind then the effort of coming into school, of attending parents' evenings and nativity plays.

The man had turned from the board and was waiting for him to reply.

'No,' Perez said. 'No, I'm not.' He was thinking how to explain his presence without causing Dawn problems when he heard footsteps on the corridor behind him and he saw her walking towards them, a mug of what smelled like herbal tea in one hand. She was a little older than Martin, he thought. Early thirties, curly red hair, a wide mouth.

'Mrs Williamson,' Perez said. 'Could I have a word? It'll not take long.' He couldn't tell if she recognized him. Perhaps she thought he was a parent too.

She took him into a cla.s.sroom and he sat on one of the children's desks, feeling a moment of wickedness because when he'd been a boy sitting on the desks wasn't allowed.

'I'm Jimmy Perez,' he said. 'I'm looking into the death of that man in the Biddista hut.'

She nodded as if to say she knew who he was. 'Is it about that mask that Alice was wearing? Aggie said you were interested in it. Maybe I should have got in touch with you before, save you dragging all the way out here, but I don't think I'll be of much help. Is it important?'

He couldn't think of any reason not to explain. 'We're treating the death as suspicious. He was wearing a mask just like the one Alice was wearing. It might help us trace him.'

He saw that he'd shocked her. She seemed suddenly very pale.

'Can you remember where Alice got the mask?'

'It was the Middleton Sunday teas,' she said. 'I bought it for her there.'

The Sunday teas had become a Shetland inst.i.tution, almost a tradition, though Perez couldn't remember anything like that happening when he was a boy. Then, Sunday had just been a time for the kirk and the family. Now local ladies would provide tea and home-bakes in the nearest community hall on Sunday afternoons in the summer. There were always plants for sale and a bring-and-buy stall. It was a place to meet friends and catch up on gossip, and funds would be raised for a good cause.

'Do you remember who was selling it?'

'Some la.s.s I didn't recognize. She must have got them cheap when she was south, because she had a whole load of them. Animals mostly, then there were the clowns. I tried to persuade Alice to go for a cat but she wasn't having any of it.'

'Was anyone else from Biddista there that afternoon?'

'No, we were on our own. Aggie usually comes with us, but she wasn't feeling well. Martin was working in the Herring House. It was quite nice to spend some time with Alice, just the two of us.'

'It can't be easy living so close to your mother-in-law.' Perez was thinking of his ex-wife Sarah's mother, a formidably competent woman who ran the Women's Inst.i.tute and won prizes for the spaniels she bred. And again he was distracted by thoughts of how Fran would get on with his own mother. Sarah had found her unconventional, rather intimidating. He thought Fran might like her.

Dawn gave a little smile. 'I should be grateful. I wouldn't have been able to come back to work full-time if she hadn't offered to mind Alice. But families are never easy, are they? Aggie thinks I'm bossy and I should be a better wife to her son. She never quite says it, but I know that's what she's thinking. Martin laughs it off. He doesn't see it as a problem. I don't usually, but it was good for Alice and me to run away to Middleton together.'

'Was anyone else you recognized there?'

'Some of the families from school. As I said, n.o.body else from Biddista. That doesn't mean they weren't there later, though. We went in early, just as it opened, and we didn't stay long.'

Some of the children had arrived in the yard. Through the window Perez watched two boys chasing each other, grabbing hold of each other's jerseys, rolling over on the ground. Did boys always end up fighting?

'How did you land up here in Shetland?' Probably it had nothing to do with the case, but he was always intrigued by the different routes incomers took to the islands.

'I did my education degree in a college in West Yorkshire. So close to home that I could take my washing back at the weekends. I wanted to see a bit more of the country. When I saw this job advertised, I thought, Why not go for it? I only expected to be here for a couple of years. Now I know I'll never live anywhere else.'

'That'll be down to Martin.'

'Oh,' she laughed, 'I fell for the islands before I fell for him. I'd rented a place in Scalloway when I first moved here. Aggie and Andrew ran the hotel there then and Martin worked in the bar. He made me laugh. We started going out . . . Before I knew it, I was married with a child on the way.'

'You look well on it.'

'I love it all. Teaching in a place like this still has its challenges, but if I think of some of the schools where I did my teaching practice, there's no comparison. And Martin is pretty much in charge of the cafe and restaurant at the Herring House. Bella doesn't interfere too much.'

'How do you get on with her?' he asked.

Dawn shrugged. 'We don't usually mix in the same circles. She likes to give the impression that she's rooted in the community, but she's away a lot of the time. She and Aggie grew up with each other; now she talks to Aggie as if she was some sort of servant when she comes into the post office. Or she's so patronizing she makes me want to throw up.'

'I understand tact isn't really her thing.'

Something in his voice made her realize what he was on about. He saw she was a very bright woman. Nothing would need spelling out. The kids would get away with nothing in her lessons.

'You've heard about her putting me down at the art cla.s.s then.'

He hoped she wasn't going to ask who'd told him. 'All sorts of things come up during the course of an investigation.'

'She just made herself look a bit daft,' Dawn said. She turned her back on him and continued talking as she wrote on the whiteboard. He wished he could see her face, judge her reaction to what she was saying. 'It was an amateur show. A bit of fun. Why did she take the thing so seriously?'

'Why do you think she did?'

'G.o.d knows. Maybe she's not as confident as she makes out and she needed to come across as the grand artist by showing us up. Pointless. We all know we're not in her league.'

'Do you think she recognized it as your painting?'

She put down the marker pen and turned back to face him. 'I'm sure she did. I was doing the sketch for it out on the hill one evening after Alice had gone to bed. Suddenly I found she'd come up behind me and was looking over my shoulder.'

'Did she comment on it then?'

'Not really. I think she made another put-down comment, like it was nice for me to have a hobby, a break from the family.' Dawn paused. 'I know it sounds stupid, but sometimes I wonder if she's jealous of me. I do have a family. I even usually get on with my mother-in-law. Aggie's a love, despite what I said just now. Bella must be lonely most of the time, rattling around the Manse on her own.' She hesitated. 'I haven't told anyone here yet, but I found out a couple of weeks ago that I'm pregnant again. I'm thrilled to bits. We'd been trying for a while. So I couldn't really get worked up about Bella behaving like a spiteful six-year-old in front of my painting.'

'Congratulations.' Sarah had been pregnant once. Perez too had been thrilled to bits. Then she'd had a late miscarriage and it had seemed like the end of their world. It had marked the beginning of the end of their marriage.

'Thanks.' He saw that she couldn't help bursting out in a huge grin.

'Do you think Roddy is a subst.i.tute child for Bella?' he asked.

'Perhaps. But he's not much to be proud of, is he?'

'Lots of people would think so.'

'He's a grand musician,' she said. 'And he can hold an audience. When you listen to him play it's easy enough to be taken in by him.'

'Has he done anything specific to upset you?'

'Nothing serious. Apart from getting my husband bladdered every time he comes home. The last time was Alice's birthday, and Martin missed the party.'

Perez wanted to ask if that wasn't Martin's responsibility Roddy Sinclair had hardly tied the man up and poured the drink down his throat but he found himself a little in awe of Dawn Williamson. It was the pregnancy, he thought, and the fact that she was so untroubled by Bella's outburst. Besides, what did it have to do with this investigation? A bell rang. The children jostled into the school and formed a chattering queue outside the cla.s.sroom door.

'I'm sorry,' she said. 'I don't think I've helped much.'

'I'm sorry to have disturbed you at work.'

She must have given a sign to the children because they began to file in, blocking the door. He had to wait for a moment until they were all at their desks. He shook hands with the teacher and began to leave.

'Give my best wishes to Fran,' she said. 'She's a brilliant teacher. I loved the exhibition.'

He wondered how much she knew about their friendship. What had Fran told her?

'Were you there at the opening?' He couldn't remember seeing her.

'I had a look before most of the people arrived.'

'Did you see the man who died?'

'How would I know?' The children were getting restless. They were expecting the register and a.s.sembly. Perhaps that was why Dawn's answer seemed a little curt. She wanted him gone so she could give her full attention to her work.

'He was the one who caused the scene by crying.'

'I must have left before then.' She reached into the drawer of her desk and brought out the long thin register, opened it, held a pen in her hand. 'I didn't see that.'

'If you were outside and on your way home you might have seen him arrive. Slight, shaved head, dressed in black.' He was standing at the door to let her know that he was about to go and his words were gabbled to show he was hurrying. It would only take a moment for her to answer this last point.

She stood poised, torn between calling the names of the children and considering his question.

'I think I did see him. He was getting out of a car.'

'Was he driving?'

'No. Someone dropped him off.'

'Anyone you recognized?'

'No. It was a young man. The car was pretty old and battered. And no, I didn't see the number and I don't know what kind it was. It was white, I think. But mucky.'

She saw he wanted to ask her more, but cut him off. 'I'm sorry. There's really nothing else I can tell you. And I have to get on with my work.'

From the corridor he watched her. She smiled at each child as she called out his or her name. Further down the hall other cla.s.ses were already gathering for a.s.sembly. The bearded man was playing the piano. By the time he reached his car the children had begun to sing the first song.

Perez drove back to Biddista. The evening before, Taylor had arranged for a sketch of the murdered man's face to be released to the national press. Until they had identification, he said, they couldn't move forward. Perez had taken the comment as a statement of his own incompetence. He should have focused on tracing the victim, not spent two days drinking tea in croft kitchens. Yet now, Taylor was keen to get to know the people in the community too.

Driving west, the sun was behind him and made the driving easy. At least he had something to offer Taylor. A battered white car, which had dropped the victim off. He'd get Sandy on to finding that. If he didn't know already who it belonged to he would by the end of the day.

The land tilted slightly and Perez had a view down towards the main road from the south and Biddista beyond. He could see all the houses. The three small ones at the jetty, the Manse and Skoles. Already he knew more about these people than he did about his own neighbours. He realized then that he hadn't yet talked to Kenny's wife, Edith. She'd been at work when the body had been found and would probably be at work today. It would be something else for Taylor to pull him up about.

Chapter Twenty.

Martha lived in a flat over a launderette in a leafy suburb of Huddersfield not far from the Royal Infirmary. She'd lived alone since leaving university, and enjoyed it, but now she wished there was someone at home to share her worries with. Someone to tell her not to be foolish, or to sit with her while she phoned police stations and hospitals. It was Thursday and there was still no word from Jeremy. Tomorrow would be the last day of rehearsals. Tomorrow night or afternoon if they got their way the cast would go home for a weekend's break and on Monday the tour would begin.

There had never been a production that had had no input from Jeremy. He always supervised the last run-through and gave notes. Even the actors had begun to comment about his absence. There was a middle-aged woman, Liz, who was a regular. She did the Interact gigs for fun and pin money. Her kids had left for university and it seemed that her husband bored her to tears. Martha thought the work made her feel young and irresponsible again. Liz was already starting to ask questions.

'Where on earth has he disappeared to, darling? We are all going to get paid, aren't we?'

Money was another problem. Jeremy had left a couple of hundred pounds cash in the office as a float, but with diesel for the van to buy and subsistence while the troupe was on the road, that wouldn't go far.

Martha took the p.e.n.i.stone line train from Huddersfield to Denby Dale. She owned a car, but she tried not to use it if she was going to the office: there was always a possibility that it would break down on the way home. The train went through a wooded valley. The small stations were strewn with hanging baskets full of garish flowers. Liz was already in the Mill, waiting outside the Interact door. She followed Martha into the office.

'Is there anything you're not telling us, darling? Jeremy's not done a bunk, has he? I don't think it would be the first time.'

'What do you mean?'

'As I understand it he had a perfectly respectable life until he was in his mid-twenties. Marriage, a kid. Then he left them one morning to try his hand in the theatre. Vanished without a word. He'd joined an amateur dramatic society and got bitten by the bug, apparently. I always said those am-dram groups should come with a health warning.'

'When was this?' Martha was thinking that there was no sign of the family in Jeremy's house. No photos that could relate to them. Unless he'd ended up marrying the woman on the beach. Surely he'd have kept a picture of his own child? b.l.o.o.d.y actors, she thought. This will be one of Liz's stories. They're all liars and self-dramatists.

'Oh, yonks ago,' Liz said airily. It was obvious that her knowledge was sketchy. 'And you wouldn't know now. He never sees them. Not even the child who must be quite grown-up. Jeremy could even be a grandfather. Now there's a scary thought.'

'He never mentioned any of this to me.'

'He never mentions it to anyone unless he's maudlin drunk, and then it all comes out. Or most of it. Even then I think there's stuff he's not telling.' Liz had been leaning against the door. 'So what do you think? Has the stress been too much for him again? Has he p.i.s.sed off to start a new life somewhere else?'