Blue Lightning

Chapter Fifteen

As soon as it was light Dougie was at Golden Water to check that the swan was still there. He’d left Hugh asleep. The boy’s mobile phone was on the table by the side of his bed, set to silent, but it had vibrated just as Dougie was getting up. Dougie had looked at the caller ID, thinking it might be a birder he knew wanting more information. Dad, the display read. The father Hugh claimed to hate. The father who’d paid for his travels and his smart school and was probably subsidizing his stay in the North Light. Spoiled brat, Dougie thought again.

The clouds were higher, less dense, and the wind wasn’t quite as strong: the water on the pool was ruffled but not as choppy as the previous day. The swan was at the east side of the pond. He saw it immediately and tried to decide what he thought about that. Was he pleased that the waiting birdwatchers still had a chance to see it? Or disappointed? Would the bird be devalued if it was seen by more people? He thought he was pleased. The worst scenario would be for it to fly on to Shetland mainland, where the birders would see it without having to make the pilgrimage to the Isle.

He attached his digital camera to his telescope and took photographs of the swan. The image stabilizers factored out the windshake. These would be good, clear photographs and there’d be a market for them in birding magazines. He’d make enough in fees for another trip to the island. On his way back to the lighthouse he met Ben and Hugh; they were walking south, presumably hoping to see the swan too.

‘Hey,’ Hugh said. ‘You should have woken me up. I’d have come with you.’

It was as if the evening game, the strange episode of the spinning bottle, had never happened, as if this was another man altogether.

‘The bird’s still there,’ Dougie said. He heard his voice sounding curt, the anger underneath it. He nodded at the two younger men and was just about to continue back to the North Light to breakfast when he remembered the phone call.

‘Your dad rang. Did you see?’ Dougie knew it was malicious, but he couldn’t help himself. He was curious too. What was it with Hugh and his father?

‘You didn’t answer it?’ Hugh almost spat out the words.

‘Of course not. It was your call.’

Dougie was shocked when he got to the field centre to see Poppy in the kitchen, leaning against the workbench with a bowl of cereal in one hand and a spoon in the other. He’d almost forgotten about Maurice Parry and the girl, they’d been hiding out in the flat for so long. She looked younger than he remembered, less aggressive, almost attractive without the make-up and the stuff in her hair. He stared awkwardly for a moment, then he called through from the dining room: ‘Are you OK?’

She nodded very quickly but she didn’t speak. Perhaps her mouth was full of food. Jane came bustling through with tea and toast. She was wearing a long blue apron over jeans. Dougie thought she could have been working in one of those smart cafe bars in the city centre, where sometimes he took a woman from work. ‘You’re late,’ she said. ‘The others have all finished.’ He wondered if she was having a go at him, but he didn’t think so. ‘Bacon and egg?’

He nodded. ‘If it won’t put you out. Sorry. I’ve been down to Golden Water to see the swan.’ He poured himself a mug of tea, but remained standing, so he could talk to her through the kitchen door. She had bacon keeping warm, but moved a frying pan on to the cooker to do his eggs.

‘It’s still there then?’ Jane splashed some oil into the pan, but looked at him and seemed genuinely interested. Poppy just stood, filling her face, saying nothing. ‘I’ve already had some birders on the phone,’ Jane went on. ‘There won’t be any flights today, but tomorrow looks good for the boat and the plane.’ She cracked two eggs. The oil spattered and hissed. Dougie suddenly wondered if it would be possible to frighten the swan away. Maybe there was an islander with a gun, who might fire very close to it and scare it off the island. He thought of all the smug birders tipping out of the plane and running up to Golden Water, only to discover that the swan had just left. He felt himself smile, but tried to control his expression. After all, that wasn’t what he really wanted.

Poppy set down her bowl and her spoon and walked out. Jane frowned but didn’t try to stop her.

‘Jimmy Perez wants to see you,’ she said to Dougie. ‘In the hall. Ten o’clock.’

‘I can’t tell him anything.’ He sat down at the table.

‘Can’t you?’ Jane set his breakfast in front of him. ‘I thought Angela always used to confide in you.’ She stood for a moment beside him, as if she wanted to make a point, or perhaps she was waiting for him to answer. But he didn’t. He stuck his knife into the centre of the yolk and watched it spread out across the plate.

Dougie arrived at the hall early. Punctuality was one of his curses, inherited from his mother, who was anxious about everything and particularly about being late. Dougie had laughed at her when he was a boy. ‘What’s going to happen, do you think? Will you get locked up for missing the dentist’s appointment by two minutes?’ But now he understood how she’d felt, had the same sensation of panic when time seemed to pass too quickly or he was delayed and he was scared he might be late. Then it did feel as if the sky would fall in and his whole world would collapse.

Perez was there already. He’d set up a small table in one of the corners, close to the stage. The building smelled of wood polish and disinfectant. Dougie wondered if the hall had been cleaned specially for the occasion, if one of the island women had been in early with dusters and a mop, just to get it ready for Perez.

The detective waved him over. ‘Would you like coffee? I can run to that.’ He seemed more relaxed than he had in the lighthouse the evening before. Dougie nodded. He was always wary when people tried to make friends with him. Only Angela had got under his defences and look where that had led.

Perez pulled out the statement Dougie had written, sitting in the lighthouse common room. Then everyone had been so tense and Dougie had been infected by the mood. A sort of collective guilt, Dougie thought now. As if they’d all been responsible in some way for Angela’s death. We were all scared of her. Fascinated, but terrified at the same time. Because none of us could stand up to her.

‘Tell me about Angela,’ Perez said.

Dougie hadn’t been expecting that. He’d thought there’d be a list of questions, a bit like the script he prepared for the call centre staff.

‘I mean, you must have known her quite well,’ Perez went on. ‘You’ve been coming to the island for a long time.’

‘She was a very good birder.’ It was what came first into Dougie’s head. He realized it was the tribute Angela would have wanted. No, he thought. She would have wanted more than that: brilliant. The best of her generation. He didn’t think he could go that far.

‘But competitive,’ Perez said. ‘Not a team player. Not an easy person to get on with. That’s the impression I have.’

‘She knew how good she was,’ Dougie conceded. ‘She didn’t suffer fools gladly.’

‘Did you like her?’

Dougie thought about that for a moment. Had he liked her? She’d been a kind of obsession, but that wasn’t the same thing. ‘We got on OK.’

Perez leaned forward across the table. ‘You see, in this case motive is important. Any one of you staying in the centre had the opportunity to kill her. You all had access to her knife. It didn’t have to be a premeditated crime. The knife was there in the bird room. But why would anyone do it?’

‘She could wind people up,’ Dougie said. He finished the coffee and carefully set the mug on the table.

‘How do you mean?’

‘She’d prod and poke until she got a response. She enjoyed making people angry. She thought it was a laugh.’

‘And you think she just went too far? She provoked someone to kill her?’

‘It could have happened that way,’ Dougie said. ‘Everyone was tense anyway. Stranded here because of the weather.’

‘Did she ever make you feel like that? Angry.’

‘Nah, I was never worth provoking. Fat Dougie. Too easy a target. She took me under her wing.’ Dougie struggled to explain the relationship he’d had with Angela. ‘You know how sometimes really fit women have an ugly friend. Someone who’s not a threat. Someone to confide in. That’s how Angela was with me. I was the ugly friend.’

‘Even though you only came to the field centre once a year?’

Dougie hesitated. He wasn’t sure how much to tell Perez. He’d decided to stick to answering the questions, not to volunteer any information, but the questions were more wide-ranging and personal than he’d expected. And he thought Jane had guessed how things were between Angela and him. She’d probably tell Perez anyway. ‘We kept in touch,’ he said at last. ‘Email mostly. Sometimes by phone.’

‘Didn’t you resent it?’ Perez asked. ‘The way she used you, I mean.’ When Dougie didn’t answer at once, he added: ‘Or perhaps you didn’t feel used? You didn’t mind being the ugly friend?’

‘I knew I could never be anything else,’ Dougie said. ‘It was better than nothing.’ He paused. He had never thought he’d tell anyone about his feelings for Angela. And in five minutes this strange islander with the dark hair had wheedled information out of him that he’d always kept secret. Dougie thought this was what it must be like to be under hypnosis. Perez said nothing. He waited for Dougie to continue and Dougie felt compelled to speak.

‘I loved it when she phoned me. It was always late at night. I imagined her in the bird room, looking down over the cliffs to the sea. It was exciting. She knew she excited me. Perhaps she only did it when she needed a boost for her ego. I didn’t care, even when she just wanted to talk about her marriage, other men. I was flattered that it was me she’d chosen to talk to.’

‘Were there other men?’

Dougie nodded. He expected other questions, a demand for specifics, but Perez didn’t follow that line of inquiry.

‘What did she say about the marriage?’

‘That Maurice was a sweet man but sometimes he bored her so much that she thought she would die. She wasn’t sure she could stand living with him any more. “And he’s crap in bed.” That was what she said.’ Dougie felt he should apologize for Angela. She wasn’t malicious, not really. Sometimes she said outrageous stuff just to make me laugh. But he had the feeling Perez understood anyway.

‘Do you think she was seriously considering divorce?’ Perez asked.

‘Nah! Maurice was just what she needed: someone to look after the domestics so she could spend all her time birding. He was too convenient to have around. And he was besotted with her. She knew he’d let her get away with anything.’

‘Did you go and see her in the bird room the night she died?’

Dougie was astonished. Was the inspector some sort of magician? Could he read men’s thoughts?

‘Because it’s the sort of thing a friend would do,’ Perez went on. ‘There’d been that scene with Poppy. Angela might have been upset. I thought you might call in to check that she was all right.’

‘I heard her go into the bird room,’ Dougie said. ‘I couldn’t sleep. I’d brought a bottle of whisky to the island with me. I don’t drink much, but other people do.’ And you still feel the need to buy friendship, don’t you, Dougie? ‘I took it down. I offered a drink but she didn’t want one. “Not for me, Dougie. You have one if you like.” I didn’t stay for long. She was working. She made it clear I was disturbing her. If we had any sort of friendship it was always on her terms.’

‘Did you have a drink? Was there a glass on her desk?’

‘Nah, I didn’t bother either. Like I said, I don’t really like it.’

‘Did she tell you what she was working on?’

‘No. We talked about Poppy. Angela said if the wind didn’t change soon, so she could get rid of the teenager from hell, there’d be a murder.’ Dougie looked up at Perez. He didn’t want the Shetlander to think he’d made some sort of crass joke, but Perez still focused on the notes on the paper before him.

The detective looked at him. ‘Was she alive when you left her?’

‘Yes!’ Dougie felt himself flush. Would Perez assume that was a sign of guilt? He couldn’t help himself. He always blushed like a girl when he was nervous. In the distance he thought he heard the sound of the plane coming in. Jane had said there’d be no flights today, but perhaps she’d got that wrong. Would it be full of birders? He wanted to be on the hill to meet it, to show the incomers his find.

But Perez still had questions: ‘Were there any feathers in the bird room? Was Angela working with them?’

‘That night? No.’

‘Any time?’

Dougie knew what this was about. Ben had described the feathers in the hair. ‘I don’t understand why there should be. Unless there was some special study I knew nothing about.’

‘Was Hugh asleep when you went back to the dormitory?’

‘Yes.’

‘Would you have heard him if he left the room in the night?’

‘No,’ Dougie said. ‘It takes me a long time to get to sleep, but when I finally go off, I sleep like the dead.’