He climbed down the ladder and Vicki followed. He’d brought a flask of coffee with him from the field centre. Now, standing with Sandy just outside the house, he took it out of his rucksack and pulled out of his pockets, like a magician conjuring brightly coloured ribbons from thin air, several rounds of sandwiches and half a fruit cake. ‘Jane’s fruit cake was famous. Make the most of it.’

They sat in Tammy Jamieson’s van to eat. The man must have walked home. There were fingers of ice on the windscreen, but the cold hadn’t driven away a background stink of fish. Perez sat in the back on a grubby cushion. He drank some coffee but left the food to the others.

He asked: ‘Where have you fingerprinted?’

Vicki took her coffee like he did, strong and black. There was milk in a screw-top jar for Sandy, and a couple of tablespoons of sugar, twisted into the corner of a polythene bag. She took a gulp, spluttered because it was so hot, then turned round to where he was sitting behind her. ‘The shelf, the wine rack, the mugs. There are a couple of smudges on the ladder but I’ve pulled a good one from the planks in the loft. Could be Jane’s or Angela’s, of course.’

‘I opened that wooden box, before I found her body.’

‘I tried that for prints. There was nothing. Not even yours.’

He thought that was odd because he hadn’t been wearing gloves, but maybe he’d just touched the edge of the lid and the prints hadn’t taken.

He leaned forward to ask her another question. By now the back windows of the van were running with condensation. ‘Have you bagged up the stuff that was inside the box?’

‘What stuff?’ She took a slice of cake and put it in her mouth.

Perez shut his eyes and felt for a moment as if he were drowning. He pictured his father, dressed in the crime scene suit, setting up the strong lights inside the Pund, the sharp response to Sandy’s offer of help. When Perez looked up again, Sandy was asking about plane times and the practicalities of bringing up the search team. ‘Do you think we could fly them direct from Inverness?’ Perez held his breath and waited for Vicki to repeat the question: What stuff? But when he hadn’t immediately replied, she’d answered Sandy instead, too tired and overwhelmed by the detailed work, it seemed, to hold the thought in her mind.

What will I say if she asks me again?

In the van the conversation continued, passing backwards and forwards between Sandy and Vicki, but he hardly heard it.

Will I answer with the truth? The silver earrings and bangle. Jewellery made in the Isle by that Scottish woman who set up business in the South Light. I recognize the style. I bought some for Fran.