Red Bones (Shetland Quartet 3)

started.’
    ‘This isn’t an investigation,’ Perez said. ‘You’re making informal enquiries. Mima was your grandmother. It’s hardly surprising that you’re interested in how she died. But be discreet. The Fiscal was absolutely clear about that.’
    ‘The Fiscal asked me to follow this up?’ Sandy stared back. The Fiscal had never been particularly complimentary about his abilities as a detective.
    Perez was saved the necessity of lying, because they were interrupted by the arrival of two young women. He recognized one as the archaeologist who’d turned up, distressed, at the Wilson house. The other was taller, stronger, with long corn-coloured hair, a wide mouth, freckles. She was talking, almost dragging Hattie behind her into the bar.
    ‘Come on. A find like that, we can take a bit of time off to celebrate.’
    ‘After what happened to Mima, I don’t feel much like celebrating.’ Hattie seemed even thinner. ‘Anyway we should keep this quiet. We don’t want treasure hunters turning up at the site hoping to make their fortune.’
    ‘This is Shetland. Do you really think you’re going to keep this a secret? And Mima would have been so excited. It was always what she wanted, wasn’t it? For us to find something really spectacular on her land. Besides, we have to eat, don’t we? I feel as if I’ve been living off sandwiches for months. You can’t work a dig on an empty stomach.’
    ‘I thought Paul bought you a meal in Lerwick yesterday.’
    ‘Only a bowl of soup in the museum coffee bar before his meeting with Val at the Amenity Trust. I fancy a huge steak. So rare it’s almost breathing.’ Sophie saw Sandy, waved at him, grinned. ‘And a mountain of chips.’ She pulled her sweater over her head. Her T-shirt rode up at the back, revealing a firm brown torso. The legend on the shirt read: Archaeologists Do It In Holes . ‘Hi, Sandy. Is it OK if we come and sit with you?’
    Sandy had been staring at Sophie with a stunned fascination, now he looked at Perez.
    ‘Why not?’ Perez said. The curiosity was kicking in again, though he found Hattie more interesting than her friend. ‘Can I get you both a drink?’
    ‘Oh please.’ Sophie gave a shiver of anticipation. Perez thought he’d never met anyone quite so physical. Like a small child she communicated her thoughts through her body. ‘A large red wine.’ Then, sensing her friend’s disapproval, ‘Don’t look at me like that, Hat. It’s not as if we can get much done this afternoon. Really we need to wait for guidance from Paul and he won’t be here until tomorrow. And you must feel like celebrating. It’s what you’ve been dreaming of since the project started.’
    ‘What’s happened?’ Perez thought he’d have to continue the conversation. No good leaving it to Sandy, who was still staring, his mouth half open. Sophie was wearing a sleeveless vest with a scoop neck showing a lot of cleavage. Soon he’d be drooling.
    ‘Go on, Hat, you tell him. It’s your find.’
    ‘Let me get you a drink first.’ Perez stood up.
    He thought Hattie would refuse. He sensed a real tension between her and her colleague. He couldn’t understand why Hattie had come. But at last she gave a quick smile. ‘All right then. Beer. A half. Sophie’s right: we are celebrating and Mima would have been excited.’ She sat on the bench seat and unlaced her boots, slipped them off so she was sitting in her stockinged feet. She pulled her feet underneath her and looked, Perez thought, like a trow, one of the mythical small men he’d heard stories about since he was a child.
    When he returned with the drinks and Sophie had ordered food, Perez repeated his question. ‘So, what’s happened?’
    Hattie took a deep breath. ‘I can hardly believe it. We ’ve been hoping that the dwelling on Mima’s land would turn out to be something grander than a croft and maybe we’ve found the proof. Look, let me put it in context . . .’ She leaned forward. ‘In the fifteenth century Shetland was a strong member of the Hanseatic League, a trading partnership, but there was a problem. The merchants in the islands were mostly German incomers. As the trading policy became more isolationist, the Germans left and there was nobody to take on that role. My thesis is that some of the more important Shetlanders became traders in their own right. There’s evidence that happened in Shetland mainland, but nothing so far here in Whalsay.’
    She paused and looked at