BooksBarbecue
Back Dead Water Save as PDF
Chapters (47)
  1. Chapter One
  2. Chapter Two
  3. Chapter Three
  4. Chapter Four
  5. Chapter Five
  6. Chapter Six
  7. Chapter Seven
  8. Chapter Eight
  9. Chapter Nine
  10. Chapter Ten
  11. Chapter Eleven
  12. Chapter Twelve
  13. Chapter Thirteen
  14. Chapter Fourteen
  15. Chapter Fifteen
  16. Chapter Sixteen
  17. Chapter Seventeen
  18. Chapter Eighteen
  19. Chapter Nineteen
  20. Chapter Twenty
  21. Chapter Twenty-One
  22. Chapter Twenty-Two
  23. Chapter Twenty-Three
  24. Chapter Twenty-Four
  25. Chapter Twenty-Five
  26. Chapter Twenty-Six
  27. Chapter Twenty-Seven
  28. Chapter Twenty-Eight
  29. Chapter Twenty-Nine
  30. Chapter Thirty
  31. Chapter Thirty-One
  32. Chapter Thirty-Two
  33. Chapter Thirty-Three
  34. Chapter Thirty-Four
  35. Chapter Thirty-Five
  36. Chapter Thirty-Six
  37. Chapter Thirty-Seven
  38. Chapter Thirty-Eight
  39. Chapter Thirty-Nine
  40. Chapter Forty
  41. Chapter Forty-One
  42. Chapter Forty-Two
  43. Chapter Forty-Three
  44. Chapter Forty-Four
  45. Chapter Forty-Five
  46. Chapter Forty-Six
  47. Chapter Forty-Seven

‘I went to see Jimmy Perez,’ he said. ‘I thought it was a courtesy.’ He was proud of the new-found word.

She hesitated. ‘He didn’t want to come along then?’

‘He didn’t feel up to it.’ Sandy paused too. ‘A pity. It could be just what he needs. Something to take his mind off things and get him out of the house.’ The Fiscal didn’t answer and he went on. ‘I spoke to Inverness, and they’re sending a team on the first flight tomorrow. I’ll collect them from the airport and bring them straight here. Morag is sorting out accommodation. There’s a new inspector.’ He was going to add that it was a woman with a strange name, but thought better of it. He knew Rhona Laing wouldn’t consider that relevant. He wondered what the women would make of each other and smiled in the gloom at the possibilities of a power-play. It would be good to have someone else as the target of the Fiscal’s sharp tongue.

‘This way.’ The Fiscal led him along the jetty to one of the moorings. They’d put a screen at the end of the pier to stop prying eyes, and a piece of tarpaulin hid the body in the yoal. Davy Cooper, a uniformed sergeant, lifted one end and shone a torch so that Sandy could see.

‘He’s kind of familiar,’ Davy said. ‘But I can’t put a name to him. I’ve opened the briefcase, but I couldn’t find an ID. I didn’t want to look in his pockets until the CSI gets here tomorrow morning.’

Sandy looked down at a man in his early thirties, who was dressed in jeans that would have cost him a couple of days’ wages. ‘It’s Jerry Markham,’ he said. There was shock to see him dead, though no sense of bereavement. They’d been distant cousins, but never had enough in common to be friends. ‘His folk run the Ravenswick Hotel. He worked as a journalist on The Shetland Times until he went south to make his fortune. I didn’t know he was home.’

‘Of course it’s Markham,’ Cooper said. ‘Now you say, I can see his mother in him.’

But Sandy wasn’t listening. He was looking at the Fiscal, who seemed suddenly even whiter in the unforgiving lights. ‘Did you know him, Ma’am?’

‘No,’ she said. ‘I know his name of course, but we’ve never met.’ She looked away from the body. ‘It’s getting cold, and I’ve not eaten. If you need me, you can find me at home.’ She began to walk away, but just as she reached a patch of shadow she turned back to them. ‘Will you inform the family?’

Sandy nodded.