Chapter Thirty-three
Berglund had hired a car from Bolt’s in Lerwick. It was still parked outside the Pier House. Perez could see it from his bedroom window. He phoned Bolt’s office and asked how long they expected Berglund to keep it.
‘He’s travelling south on the NorthLink this evening. He’ll drop it off in the car park at the terminal at around four-thirty. That was what we arranged, at least.’
Perez wished he had a reason to keep Berglund in Whalsay, but there was no way he could justify it. It was possible that the Setter project would be abandoned altogether now without Hattie to champion it. Rhona Laing was determined that Hattie’s death was suicide and that the use of Berglund’s knife had no significance. And perhaps she was right. The professor had been on the island when Mima was shot, but what reason could he have for killing an old Whalsay woman? He didn’t even have access to a shotgun as far as Perez knew. Hattie was a different matter. Perez could understand why the man would want her dead, and he was the last person to see her alive. But was it possible that the two deaths were unconnected, coincidental? He wondered if he should ask Berglund to stay, at least if he should arrange a more formal interview before the man left. But if he did that he’d be showing his hand. Berglund was a clever man. Better at the moment to let him think his secret was safe.
Perez continued to sit at the window, waiting for the moment when he saw Berglund drive down to the pier and on to the ferry. He wanted to be sure the man was off the island. He had almost an hour to wait before that happened, but Perez didn’t become restless or bored. He valued times of inactivity. He could think more clearly then. In his head he considered the characters playing out this drama in Whalsay. Were any of them capable of killing two people? There were occasions when his stillness drove Fran crazy. Sometimes she’d scream at him, laughing but irritated too. ‘How can you just sit there? What is going on inside your head?’ He was never quite sure how to answer.
Stories
, he thought.
I just tell myself stories
.
His mind left the inquiry, drifted back to Fran and again to marriage. Would she laugh if he proposed to her? It would seem an old-fashioned concept to her and quite outdated. Ridicule would almost certainly be her response.
When the ferry sailed off he got up. He went to the shop in Symbister and bought bread rolls, cheese, ham, fruit and cakes. There were other customers there and they fell silent until he left, when he was aware of a sudden buzz of conversation behind him. He turned back to the shop to buy a couple of cans of beer and was amused that the silence returned. He put his purchases in his car and drove to the Bod to see Sophie. With Berglund out of the way he supposed he’d find her alone.
She was sitting inside the bothy at the Formica table, seemed to be filling in some sort of form. He could see her through the grimy window. Remembering the time she’d found him there uninvited, he was careful to knock and wait outside until she called him in. She seemed disappointed. ‘Oh, it’s you.’
‘Who were you expecting?’
She hesitated. ‘I thought Paul might call in before he left.’
‘No,’ Perez said. ‘He’s already gone. I saw him go off on the ferry.’
‘I’m tidying up the paperwork for the project before I leave.’ Sophie turned round in her seat. ‘There’s no point my hanging around here. I might as well go back to London. It was what I planned anyway.’
‘So you’ll be running a cafe bar in Richmond?’
She grinned up at him. ‘Maybe. That’s one of the options. I’m not going to rush into anything. Maybe I’ll just take some time out.’
Perez was going to ask what she would do for money, but he saw that was no real concern for her. He didn’t think he’d met anyone before who didn’t have to work for a living. Duncan Hunter was probably the richest person he knew, but he still worked.
‘Will you stay with your parents?’
‘In their house. Daddy’s just gone off to Hong Kong for six months. Something about one of the businesses. So they’re not there.’
‘You don’t want to be with them?’ He thought despite the confidence and the loud voice she could use some support.
‘Why would I want that?’ Her voice was scathing. ‘I’m a grown-up. I’m not going to run away to Mummy every time I feel a bit miserable. Besides, all my friends are in London.’
‘Why are you miserable?’
She stared at him as if he were completely mad. ‘Why do you think? The person I’ve been sharing my life with for two months just killed herself. But don’t worry. A couple of decent nights out and I’ll be fine.’
‘Is that what you believe? That Hattie killed herself?’
‘Of course. What other explanation is there?’
He didn’t answer directly. ‘I’ve got a picnic,’ he said. ‘Let’s go up the island and have a bit of a walk.’
Again she stared at him as if he was a madman.
‘It’s all right,’ he said, though he wasn’t quite sure why she might need reassuring. ‘I just want to go somewhere we won’t be disturbed or overheard.’
They parked near the golf clubhouse. Again the weather was unusually mild: a gusty breeze blew startling white clouds and there were moments of bright sunlight. There were no other cars there and the golf course seemed deserted. They walked right to the end of the island and sat on rocks looking out to the Skerries, the inhabited island which stood very clear on the horizon.
‘I’ve lived all my life in Shetland and I’ve never been there,’ Perez said. He handed her one of the cans of beer and spread the food on a flat rock. A red-throated diver flew over their heads calling.
Last time I heard that sound
, Perez thought,
was just before Hattie’s body was found
. Although he knew it was superstition, he felt uneasy. What terrible thing would happen now? He turned his attention back to the Skerries. ‘Maybe I should pay a visit one day.’
Sophie tugged on the ring pull of the can. ‘What is all this about?’ she said. ‘What do you want from me?’ She was wearing shorts again and the big boots, a loose sweater with holes in the elbows. No bra, he thought. She leaned forward with her arms on her knees.
‘What do you think of Paul Berglund?’ Perez asked.
He pulled apart a crusty roll and cut a piece of cheese off the block of Orkney cheddar with his penknife, handed the makeshift sandwich to her.
‘I’ve always found Paul OK,’ she said. ‘He’s been all right to me.’
‘Really?’
‘Yeah. You could have a worse boss. He can be a good laugh.’
‘What about Hattie?’ He broke off a piece of chocolate and put it in his mouth. He thought she sounded defensive. ‘Was he all right to her?’
Sophie didn’t reply. A gull swooped down, scavenging for bits of food. A curlew shouted in the distance.
He went on. ‘Did Hattie tell you about Paul? Maybe warn you about him? Did she think the two of you were getting close and want you to know how he’d treated her?’
She stared out to the islands on the horizon. ‘Paul hasn’t done anything wrong,’ she said. ‘He wouldn’t have.’
‘Did he tell you that?’
She didn’t answer.
‘Something made Hattie kill herself,’ Perez said. ‘If that’s what happened, she used his knife to do it.’
She turned away from him. ‘I hate it here,’ she said. ‘Everyone knowing each other’s business. At first it was OK. Different from anywhere else I’ve ever lived. The boys from the boats were good fun, they know how to party. Now I can’t stand it. Once the fog rolls in you feel as if the world outside doesn’t matter at all. People here lose any sense of proportion. Tiny incidents that happened years ago fester and take over their lives.’
‘What incidents?’
She shook her head in frustration that he didn’t immediately understand.
‘There’s nothing specific. Just a feeling that the islanders can never break free from their history. That they have no free will. Or that they won’t allow themselves any.’
‘Go home then,’ he said. ‘There’s nothing to stop you. Just leave me your address.’
She’d pulled out a piece of heather and was tearing the tiny dead flowers off the stalk one by one. Perez thought it might take more than a night of clubbing and drinking to make her feel happy again.
‘Did Hattie talk to you before she died?’ he asked.
She turned, startled. ‘Of course she talked to me.’
‘So you got on OK?’
A brief hesitation. ‘Boarding school’s great practice for this sort of work,’ she said. ‘You have to muck in together.’
He wasn’t sure that was a real answer.
I went to boarding school
, he thought.
If you can call the hostel at the Anderson High School a boarding school. I’m not sure it taught me much.
‘Did she talk about Paul Berglund?’ he asked. ‘About what happened when they worked together before?’
‘Paul says it’s all rubbish. She just had a teenage crush.’
‘What did
she
say?’
‘Was it true then, all that stuff about Paul?’ Sophie looked at him; her eyes seemed huge. ‘You could never tell with Hattie. Sometimes I thought she was mad. She came up with such odd ideas.’
‘Like what?’
Sophie shook her head, unwilling to be specific. ‘I don’t know. She just let her imagination run away with her .’
‘But she did talk to you about Paul?’
‘Yes, she thought he was hitting on me. She was warning me off. I told her I was a big girl and I could look after myself.’
‘I think she was telling the truth about Paul,’ Perez said. ‘But there’s no evidence and he’ll never be charged, if that’s what’s concerning you. I just need to hear what she told you.’
Sophie finished the beer and crushed the can with her fist. She told her story looking out to sea in a flat, unemotional voice. Throughout, there was no eye contact.
‘It was at the end of her first year at university. She’d already had some sort of stress-related illness after A levels. I guess she was that sort of person. An obsessive. Then in the summer vacation she worked as a volunteer on a dig in the south.’
She paused but Perez said nothing. He knew all this, but Sophie had to tell the tale in her own words.
She continued: ‘That was where Hattie met Paul. She fell for him. I mean absolutely head over heels. She admitted that to me. He was married but when’s that ever stopped anyone?’
Now Perez did interject. ‘Did she know he was married?’
‘Maybe not. She was so naïve, it probably never occurred to her. He must have been flattered. She was young, bright, quirky. He took her out a couple of times. Enjoyed her company but wanted more. Men do always want more . . .’ She paused again and continued to stare into the distance. Perez wished he knew what she was thinking about. ‘One evening, they both got drunk. He invited her into his room for coffee. She went, expecting coffee, maybe a kiss and a cuddle. Like I said, she was very naïve. Paul expected more than that.’
‘He raped her,’ Perez said.
‘No!’ she said and now she did turn towards him, shocked. ‘Not rape. That sounds horrible.’
‘Rape is horrible.’
‘They were both drunk. He misread the signals. She never actually told him to stop. Not really. Not so he understood.’
And perhaps that was true, Perez thought. Hattie had so little confidence. After a while perhaps she had just given in and let the man do what he wanted, too scared to shout and make a fuss. And afterwards she’d blamed herself instead of him. And the anger had eaten away at her and made her ill. Had it turned to paranoia here in Whalsay? Had she been scared it would happen again? Did she imagine him watching her, waiting for his moment? But everyone said she’d been happy until Mima’s death. It didn’t quite make sense.
He didn’t want Sophie to think he was blaming her. He looked out at the water too, at the reflected sunlight shifting with the movement of the waves and the windblown shadows.
‘Are you having a relationship with Berglund?’
‘No!’
Perez had an image of the two archaeologists as he’d seen them the day before, standing together outside the Pier House after Mima’s funeral, both dressed in black. Berglund had put his arm around Sophie’s shoulders, but she’d resisted and walked away. He thought she was telling the truth. He stood up, starting to feel cold. Despite the brightness of the light there was still a chill in the rock where they sat.
‘Have you discussed her allegations with Paul?’
‘I couldn’t help it. It was while we were in the kirk before Mima’s funeral. We got there early. Everything was so solemn and dreary. I couldn’t just sit there in silence. We were the first people there. There was nobody to overhear. And I had to know what he had to say for himself.’
‘What
did
he have to say?’
‘He laughed it off, said she was a screwed-up kid with a serious crush on him and she didn’t know what she wanted.’ She hesitated. ‘Then he warned me off: “Don’t go spreading rumours about me, Sophie. I’ve got a lot to lose.”’
‘Do you think Hattie discussed it with him when they had their meeting?’
‘I don’t know.’ Sophie’s attention seemed to be wandering now, or perhaps she was feeling the cold as much as he was. ‘Paul didn’t say anything about that to me.’
