Driving through Shetland mainland to get the ferry to the North Isles, he wondered what the young people from Eleanor’s company Bright Star would make of the space and the distances. The chill weather. Willow had said that she’d wait for him to arrive before talking to Charles and David, before asking the men why they hadn’t mentioned that Eleanor had been in touch with them. She was looking out for him at Springfield House and then led him to the yellow lounge that they’d used as an interview room.

‘It sounds as if you had a useful trip south.’ She smiled, looking up from her laptop for a moment.

‘I’m glad to be back.’

‘What was Eleanor’s mother like?’

He thought about that for such a long time that he saw she was wondering if he’d ever answer. ‘Very elegant,’ he said at last. ‘Sophisticated. But not a happy woman even before Eleanor died, I think. They didn’t have an easy relationship. And she couldn’t throw much light on the investigation. Eleanor had lunch with her just before the trip north, and Cilla thought she was different. Unsettled. But there’s nothing concrete. Nothing helpful.’ He hesitated again. ‘Anything to report here?’

‘The techies have blown up the images that were on the two scraps of paper Vicki found at the scene.’ Willow clicked on her laptop and turned it so that he could see the screen. ‘They were definitely photographs, but it’s difficult to make out anything helpful from such small pieces.’

Perez stared at them. One of them was of a corner of a building. Wood and glass. Contemporary. It must be in the background of the shot to contain even that much detail in such a small fragment of photograph. He wondered if it was familiar, but the perspective was strange and he couldn’t quite make it fit anywhere he knew. The other was a slice of a face. An eyebrow and a strand of dark hair. ‘Is that Eleanor?’

Willow looked up from the computer. ‘I wondered that. So the killer ripped up a photo of his victim just before or after the murder? What does that tell us?’

Perez shook his head. ‘Not much, except that the murderer knew Eleanor well enough to have a picture of her, but I think we’d already worked that out.’

Willow nodded. She seemed distracted and he saw that her attention had already moved elsewhere. ‘What do we do about David and Charles?’

He paused again and wondered if he’d been this indecisive before Fran had died. ‘If Eleanor had been in touch with them, why wouldn’t they tell us?’