Sandy seemed shocked by the idea. ‘It’ll just come to my father,’ he said. ‘She had no other close relatives. I don’t know what he’ll do with it. Take on the land and sell the house, perhaps.’

‘You said there was a cousin, Ronald. He has no claim?’

‘Ronald’s related to me on my mother’s side. He won’t get anything as a result of Mima dying.’

They were still standing outside the house. Perez was what the locals called a black Shetlander; his ancestor had been washed up from a sunken Spanish Armada ship. He’d inherited the name, the dark hair and Mediterranean skin. Now he felt the cold seeping into his bones and thought he’d inherited a love of sunshine too. He couldn’t wait for the summer.

‘We should tape off the garden where the body was found,’ Perez said gently. ‘Even if the Fiscal puts it down as an accident, at the moment we have to treat it as a potential crime scene.’

Sandy looked up at him, suddenly horrified. Perez realized the suggested piece of routine police work had made Mima’s death real again.

Sandy pushed open the door and they arrived in the kitchen. Again Perez was taken back to his childhood. His grandparents, and a couple of elderly aunts, had lived in houses like this. It was the smell as much as the furniture that took him back: the smell of coal-dust and peatsmoke, a particular brand of soap, damp wool. At least in here it was warm. The solid-fuel Ray-burn must have been banked up the night before and still gave out plenty of heat. Perez stood in front of it and put his hands on the covered hotplate.

‘I don’t know what will happen to the cow,’ Sandy said suddenly. ‘My father milked her this morning, but I know damn well he’ll not want to do that twice every day.’

Reluctantly Perez pushed himself away from the range.

‘Let’s go outside,’ he said. ‘You can show me where she died.’

‘I keep thinking that if I hadn’t stayed for that one last drink I might have been here in time to save her,’ Sandy said. ‘I might have stopped her going outside at all.’ He paused. ‘But I only came in to give me time to sober up before going back to my parents’ house. If I’d gone straight home, I’d have taken the first ferry out this morning and someone else would have found her.’ He paused. ‘She phoned me earlier in the week and asked when I’d next be home. “Call in and have a dram with me, Sandy. It’s a long time since we had a chat.” I should have spent the evening with her instead of going down to the Pier House with the boys.’