‘Mr Berglund.’ As soon as he spoke he realized he’d got the title wrong. Berglund was a professor. But Berglund stopped and turned slowly, curious but not offended. At first he didn’t recognize Perez and seemed confused. Not far away a family was welcoming back a young man, a student, and there was a lot of noise. Everyone was there – both parents and a couple of children. The returning teenager seemed embarrassed by the attention, the hugs and the shrieking voices.

‘I’m sorry to trouble you,’ Perez said. ‘I wonder if I could have a few words. It won’t take long. It’ll save me a trip to Whalsay.’

Now Berglund did recognize him. ‘Of course: you’re the detective.’ A pause and a frown. ‘What’s happened now?’

It seemed a strange question. Perez wanted to ask, What were you expecting to happen? ‘I just need to complete my report for the Fiscal. Routine. I’m sure you understand. She’s satisfied Mrs Wilson’s death was an accident, but as you were on the island when it happened . . .’ It sounded an unconvincing explanation to Perez, but Berglund shrugged and nodded his agreement.

They had breakfast together in a small and steamy cafe by the harbour. Bacon rolls and tea in thick china mugs. There was nobody to overhear them. Berglund shrugged off his heavy coat and Perez saw he was wearing a hand-knitted sweater in a pattern he didn’t recognize.

‘That’s not Shetland, is it?’ Small-talk because he wasn’t quite sure how to begin.

If the archaeologist was surprised by the question it didn’t show. ‘No, my grandmother’s a great knitter.’

The pattern of the sweater and the name made Perez think Berglund’s family must be Scandinavian.

At first he seemed nervous, almost jumpy. Perhaps it was just a natural reaction to being questioned by the police. He talked too much about the dig at Lindby and the find of coins the girls had made. ‘Hattie will be pleased. It’s her commitment that set the project going. She’s a strange young woman. Obsessive. There are times when I worry about her. I hope this will take the pressure off a bit. She doesn’t need to justify herself now.’

It was warm in the cafe. The condensation on the window meant there was no view outside.

‘Have you known Hattie long?’ It had come into his mind. Of course it had no relevance to the inquiry, but perhaps he could form a proper question while Berglund answered.

Berglund considered for a moment. ‘I’ve been supervising her since the beginning of her project.’

Was that a real answer? But Perez thought he couldn’t justify following it up. Berglund’s personal life was none of his business.

‘How did you get on with Jemima Wilson? I take it you knew her?’