Maria Markham was slouched in a low armchair. She’d changed into a dressing gown, nothing glamorous, but the sort Sandy’s mother might wear, fleecy and comfortable. She was staring at the television; Sandy suspected it had been switched on to help her relax, not because she was interested in the programme. There was a drink on the table beside her. Maria knew him at once. They were related in the way of the islands, remotely – she was a kind of aunt by marriage – and, growing up, he’d met her occasionally at weddings and funerals. She’d always been on her own; her husband and son had never accompanied her. And since she and Peter had taken on the Ravenswick, Sandy hadn’t seen her at family events at all.

She stood up, pulling her dressing gown around her, a little embarrassed to be caught like this, dressed so informally. ‘Sandy! How lovely!’ It didn’t seem to occur to her that he might be here in a professional capacity. He thought she’d put on weight. Her chin was soft and fleshy. ‘What would you like to drink? You’ll take a dram with us? Were you downstairs earlier? We were so busy that I didn’t see you. The place is full of folk here supervising the new gas terminal up the island. Good for business, but if it lasts, we’ll need to get more staff. And the fog meant that the Edinburgh plane didn’t go, so some of our guests were stranded for an extra night.’

‘I’m here about Jerry,’ he said.

‘He’s not back,’ she replied. ‘He’s working. We’re expecting him at any time. Why don’t you wait? He’ll love to catch up with you.’

Her husband, though, seemed to sense that this wasn’t a social call. He stood behind his wife and put his hand on her shoulder. ‘What is it?’ he asked. ‘Is something wrong?’

‘Jerry’s dead.’ Sandy had broken tragic news a few times now and found that it didn’t get any easier. Those words were so brutal that he felt as if he was killing the man again, but there was no gentle way to do it. Best that there was no doubt, no room for hope.

The couple stared at him. It was as if they were frozen. ‘What do you mean?’ Maria said at last. ‘He’s here in Shetland. He’ll be back any minute.’

‘No.’ Sandy wished he was better with words. With people. ‘His body was found in Aith. I saw it for myself.’

‘Was it that bloody car?’ Markham said. ‘He drove it like a maniac.’