‘Maria was a bit of a cow,’ Sandy said. ‘She didn’t believe that there’d been any relationship between Jerry and Annabel. At least that was what she said.’

‘And Peter?’ Perez wasn’t sure why, but he thought Peter’s response to the Greys was even more important.

‘He didn’t say much at all.’ Sandy frowned. ‘He just stared at the lass.’ He glanced down at his notes. ‘Annabel went out into the garden. She said she wanted to be on her own to think about Jerry.’ Another pause. ‘I phoned the vicar of St Luke’s, the church where the advent course was held, when I got back here. He was quite interesting on the relationship between Annabel and Jerry.’

‘In what way?’ Willow leaned forward.

‘He wasn’t convinced Jerry was genuine. The Christian thing. You know. He didn’t know that Jerry was making the whole thing up, but he wasn’t sure.’ Sandy checked the notebook. Perez thought it had become a habit. Sandy knew quite well now what he wanted to say. ‘And then there was Annabel’s dad.’ He paused for breath. And for effect.

‘What about Richard Grey, Sandy?’ Willow was sharp now.

‘He didn’t trust Jerry Markham, either. And Grey is wealthy. A private income, on top of what he makes as a barrister, according to the vicar.’

In his head Perez replayed one of the conversations he’d had with Maria Markham. Jerry had told his mother that he would never need to ask her for money again. Perhaps Markham had calculated that, if he married Annabel Grey, he’d be rich enough in his own right. Or at least in his wife’s. Had he played the convert so that he could marry into a wealthy family? The idea seemed fanciful, but perhaps Jerry was desperate. He was a journalist and he understood about research. Had he turned up at the church that day because he knew Annabel would be there? Could anyone be that calculating?

‘What do you make of all this, Jimmy?’ Willow sounded suddenly cheerful.

‘I think that if Jerry expected to marry into serious money, we have to reconsider his motivation in coming to Shetland.’ Outside, the rain continued to batter on the windowpane and on the grey pavement. Perez imagined Cassie inside his neighbour’s kitchen, sitting at the table with her best friend. Cosy. Safe. ‘I mean he was hardly likely to risk blackmail if he was going to be rich soon anyway.’

‘Would he have been rich, though? If Richard didn’t like Jerry, and he was the one with the money.’ Willow’s thoughts were fizzing again. ‘Richard seemed reasonable enough while he was here, but he’s got his way now, hasn’t he? There’s no chance that Annabel will marry Jerry Markham. I don’t know how these things work, but perhaps he threatened to disinherit Annabel if she went ahead with the marriage.’