Cold Earth

Chapter Forty-One

Willow was doing her morning yoga when she heard the baby. It was a strange noise, more like a bleat than a cry. Rosie started singing then, and the combined sounds – the mother singing and the baby calling – moved Willow almost to tears. She thought she could understand those sad, lonely women who snatched children from prams outside shops. In the kitchen John was sitting in his dressing gown drinking tea.

‘Oh God,’ he said when he saw her. ‘Is it that time? What must you think of us? Are you OK with cereal and toast?’

‘I’ll make it.’ She preferred to be in the kitchen on her own. Something about his sleepy, rather smug face made her want to hit him. It was deep and basic playground envy: You’ve got something I want, and I hate you. She knew it was ridiculous, but she couldn’t control it.

‘Are you sure?’ He was already on his feet. ‘You know where everything is?’

‘Quite sure, and I’ll find it.’

After breakfast she walked through the drizzle to the police station: up the lane, emerging opposite the library, and then past the town hall. Lerwick had become familiar to her now and some of the passers-by recognized her, gave her a wave. It was early and the place was quiet. Sandy had planned to head straight to the airport and Perez would be in the house in Ravenswick, staring down the valley towards Gilsetter and Tain. She hoped he wasn’t brooding over Fran; she hadn’t intended to give him some sort of ultimatum.

She spent the morning attempting to lose herself in the details of the investigation and stuck a mind-map on the wall – a contemporary-art extravaganza of different-coloured marker pens, all circles and connections: Alison Teal’s sudden crisis in Simon Agnew’s office linked to the crisis that had first brought her to the islands; Tom Rogerson’s relationship with Alison, with Kevin Hay and with the developers of the smart cabins north of Ravenswick. The second generation – the Hay boys and Kathryn Rogerson – marked in red; the earlier generation – Magnus Tait and Minnie Laurenson – circled in green. Willow was still staring at the map, feeling that she was starting to see a strange inverted pattern, when Sandy came in. He looked at the map briefly, but seemed to dismiss it as the ravings of a lunatic and started to tell her about his trip to Sumburgh. Willow turned away from the wall to listen and felt her theory dissolve into nothing.

‘Rogerson took a phone call while he was waiting for his plane,’ Sandy said. ‘Or made a call out. My witness couldn’t be sure. And suddenly his plans changed and he cancelled his flight.’

‘We asked Kathryn for her dad’s mobile number.’ Despite herself, Willow began to see why Sandy was so excited. ‘She didn’t get back to us. We know he had two phones – one for business, and I have that number; and a personal one. I don’t think we’ve ever been given those details.’

‘You think the killer took Rogerson’s mobile?’ Sandy was back in bouncy puppy mode. Excitable. He’d let slip that he’d dropped in on Perez, but had given no details.

Willow shrugged. ‘If so, I doubt we’ll ever find it. Easy enough to chuck it into the tide, if the killer didn’t want anyone to know that they’d called.’ She stood up and picked up her coat. ‘I’m going to talk to Mavis Rogerson. She’ll have Tom’s number.’

She found Mavis in the big house near the park. She was alone. ‘I sent my sister back to Kirkwall. I couldn’t stand her fussing.’ She stood aside to let Willow into the house.

‘We could go out,’ Willow said. ‘Coffee and cake. My treat.’

‘Nah.’ Mavis gave a little smile. ‘People just want to tell me how sorry they are for my loss. They didn’t have much good to say about Tom when he was alive. It sticks in my craw now he’s dead. Besides, I’ve been baking.’

They sat in the kitchen and she switched on the kettle. There were scones cooling on a wire tray on the table. ‘I can’t seem to stop cooking,’ she said. ‘Since you took me out and bought me cake that day. It’s something to do. Kathryn took a batch into school today for the bairns.’

‘I wanted to ask you about Tom’s phone numbers. It’s always something we check. I’ve got his work number from his office, but they don’t have his personal one. And he didn’t have his phone with him when we found him.’

‘Sure.’ Mavis took a mobile from her bag, searched for the number and handed the phone to Willow, who copied the number into her own contact list. She pressed Call just in case, but there was no ring tone anywhere in the house.

‘Did you phone him on Saturday morning when he was waiting for his flight?’

‘No.’ A pause. ‘I didn’t call him much. He didn’t always answer, and then I’d start imagining what he might be up to.’

‘Why did you stay with him for all that time, when he treated you so badly?’ Willow couldn’t help asking the question. She couldn’t imagine what it must be like to be in a relationship with someone it was impossible to trust.

‘I don’t know. Maybe I don’t think sex is that important?’ Another pause. ‘And I liked all the things that came with being his wife. This house. Nice holidays. Social events. And his company. He was such good company.’ She turned away from Willow to make instant coffee. ‘Sometimes I thought the sex was an illness. Like an addiction. That maybe if he got help, he could stop. Then other times I thought it wasn’t about the sex at all, but it was the admiration he needed. That there were things he needed that I couldn’t give.’

‘It was never your fault.’ Willow took a mug of coffee and blew across the surface.

‘Aye, maybe.’ Not really believing it.

They sat for a moment in silence.

‘Do you know the Hays at Gilsetter?’

‘Kevin and Jane?’ Mavis split a couple of scones and buttered them, passed a plate to Willow. They were still warm and the butter began to melt. ‘I’ve met them a few times, but we’re not pals. I know the boy better.’

‘Which boy?’ Willow kept her voice even, but in her head she was Sandy, dancing around the room in anticipation.

‘Andy, the oldest one. He was at the house a few times when Kathryn was at school and in college.’

‘But she’d be older than him.’

‘Six or seven years, maybe.’ Mavis was eating a scone with intense concentration.

‘That’s a big gap between friends when you’re a teenager.’

‘They weren’t friends exactly.’ Mavis put down the scone and tried to find the words she needed. ‘Andy was more like a pet.’

‘A pet?’

‘Kathryn took up with him when he started at the Youth Theatre. He was the youngest there and she was one of the oldest. Maybe “pet” is the wrong word. He was more like a mascot. He played up to the big ones, showing off and making them laugh. Tom liked having the young people around.’ She paused. ‘Maybe it made him feel not quite so old. Or perhaps he just enjoyed staring at the bonnie lasses. Sometimes they held informal rehearsals here; sometimes they just came back for supper afterwards.’

‘When did you last see Andy?’ Willow thought this was another connection, another colour for the mind-map on the board.

‘Just before Christmas. He’d dropped out of uni and wanted to ask Kathryn’s advice. He was thinking about applying to drama school and wondered what Kathryn thought of the idea.’ Mavis smiled. ‘I hadn’t seen him since he was about twelve years old and I hardly recognized him. He’s got so skinny, and those dreadful piercings on his face.’

‘Was Tom here then?’

‘I think he was out at a meeting and came in just as the boy was leaving.’

‘They had a row in the street, the week before Tom died.’ Willow resisted the temptation to take another scone. ‘Any idea what that might have been about?’

Mavis shook her head. ‘Tom didn’t really do confrontation. He wanted everyone to like him. If there was an argument, the boy will have provoked it.’

Willow tried to think through the implication of Andy’s friendship with Kathryn Rogerson. Did it really have any significance? In a place like Shetland perhaps there were always going to be unexpected connections. She stood up. ‘Thanks for the number. If you come across the phone, just give me a shout.’

‘It was good of you to come.’ Mavis followed Willow out into the dark hall. ‘You seem to understand. Everyone thinks of Tom as a monster. Or a bit of a joke. It’s hard to grieve for him when everyone thought so badly of him. There’s nobody to talk to.’

‘There’s always Kathryn,’ Willow said. ‘She seems to have loved him.’

There was a moment of silence. ‘Ah yes, Kathryn.’ There was a pause. ‘She’s very much her father’s daughter.’