Sandy thought it was like old times, he and Jimmy Perez out on the island together heading up to Aith, and Jimmy almost back to his old self. Perez didn’t say much in the car on the way north, but then he’d never been exactly chatty. And at least he didn’t sit in the passenger seat, crouched and brooding, looking as if he might hit you every time you asked him a question. It had been a bit like that until recently.

When they got to the Fiscal’s house, Perez told him to slow down.

But when Sandy asked if he should stop, Perez said to carry on. ‘There’s no sign of her,’ he said. ‘Her car’s not there. She left a message on my answer phone at home last night. I tried to call her this morning, but there was no reply. She must have been on her way to work.’

Sandy couldn’t see that it would be important. ‘She has your work mobile number. She would contact you on that if it was urgent.’

‘Aye, maybe.’ Perez seemed about to say something else, but no words came out. Sandy thought Willow would want to talk to Rhona Laing about the Fiscal’s connection to Richard Grey and she wouldn’t be best pleased if Perez interfered.

When they got to the school the children were in assembly, singing a hymn that Sandy remembered from when he was a boy. It took him straight back to the school in Whalsay, he and his cousin Ronnie sitting at the back of the hall causing mischief. In the Aith kitchen two women, dressed in white overalls and white caps, were preparing lunch. One was peeling carrots by the sink and the other was rolling out pastry on a workbench. This was Jen Belshaw. She looked very different from when he’d interviewed her in Vatnagarth and she’d been dressed in old-fashioned clothes.

‘You can’t come in here,’ she said. ‘Health and safety.’ She was a big woman, not fat, but soft and round. ‘We don’t know what germs you might be carrying.’ Though she was telling them off, it sounded as if she was laughing at the notion too.

‘Any chance we could have a few words?’ Perez stood in the doorway to talk to her and Sandy couldn’t really see past. ‘It’s about the murders.’

Jen Belshaw said something to her colleague and washed her hands in a little basin in the corner. ‘We’ll go through to the staffroom,’ she said. ‘There’ll be nobody in there at the minute. I might even make you a coffee.’ She led them into a pleasant room, easy chairs around the wall, a coffee table in the centre, and switched on a filter machine. ‘So how can I help? Andy said you were round at the house asking about John.’