Red Bones (Shetland Quartet 3)

was just the time of the year. Spring. All those new lambs on the hill. He should concentrate on the case.
    ‘I’m meeting one of the lasses from the university in the camping bod,’ he said. ‘Can you tell me how to find it?’
    So when he drove off the ferry at Symbister he knew exactly where he was going and he didn’t have to ask. He pulled into the side of the road and walked down past a couple of empty houses until he reached it. He looked at his watch. Five to six. He was pleased; he didn’t like to be late. Many of the Shetlanders he knew had a relaxed attitude to time and it always irritated him.
    He expected Hattie to be waiting for him. There’d been desperation in her voice on the phone; although she’d said it wasn’t urgent he knew she’d been eager to talk to someone. But there was no response when he knocked at the door. Ten minutes later he was feeling uneasy. He looked inside. It seemed quite primitive: a bare floor, a camping stove and a pile of assorted plates, cutlery and tins on a wooden shelf. Equipment for use with the dig was stored there too: a theodolyte, camera and tripod, surveying poles. On the table a pile of pink sheets of thin paper that seemed to be used for recording finds. There was no sign of Hattie and no explanation for her absence. He walked into the house in case she’d left a note for him and once inside couldn’t help looking around. Beyond the kitchen there was a bedroom with four bunks, two against each wall, the lower of each made up. One was tidy, the sleeping bag straightened for use, clothes folded on a plastic chair at one end. The other, which he presumed was Sophie’s, was a mess.
    ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’
    He turned, startled and embarrassed. The inside of the house was in shadow and the figure was silhouetted in the doorway.
    ‘I was looking for Hattie.’
    ‘In our bedroom?’ Sophie stood accusingly where she was, blocking his exit.
    ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I didn’t know. We’d arranged to meet here. I thought she might have left a note.’
    She said nothing, though just the way she was standing made it clear what she was thinking. Ye ah, right!
    He walked towards her and her image came into focus. ‘Look, I’m sorry to have intruded. There must have been a misunderstanding. Just tell me where she is and I’ll leave you in peace.’
    Still she stood her ground. She was almost as tall as he was. She wore a sleeveless vest under a denim jacket. Her stomach was flat and firm. She had the poise he associated with film stars and models. He wondered how she and Hattie got on away from the dig, what they could have to say to each other.
    ‘What do you want her for?’ Her tone was amused, but he was left in no doubt that she expected an answer.
    ‘I think that’s between her and me.’
    ‘I haven’t seen Hattie since lunchtime.’ At last Sophie did step aside to let him past and they stood together in the sunshine.
    ‘Where was that?’
    He thought she was going to question his right to put the question but after a pause she answered. ‘We were at Utra. Evelyn invited us for a meal. Paul was there too – his first chance to look at the Setter coins. Afterwards he wanted to talk to Hattie about her PhD. I suppose they were planning what should happen next, the focus of the next phase of the project.’
    ‘You weren’t involved in that discussion?’
    ‘No, I’m just the hired labour.’
    He couldn’t tell what she made of that, whether it rankled. ‘Where did they have the meeting?’
    ‘I’m not sure. I left them at Utra.’
    ‘What were you doing this afternoon?’
    ‘I went back to the dig and carried on working for an hour. I expected Hattie to join me there.’
    ‘But she didn’t?’
    ‘No. I presumed Paul had taken her back to the Pier House for a celebratory drink. I thought, Sod them! and I packed up early. I’ve been visiting a couple of the fishing boys.’ She seemed edgy and out of sorts. Perez wanted to ask whose house she’d been in, but it probably wasn’t any of his business.
    ‘Hattie doesn’t strike me as someone who would enjoy an afternoon in the bar,’ he said, keeping his voice light, hoping it didn’t sound like an interrogation. The day before when they’d been there, Hattie had been jumpy, nervy even after a couple of drinks.
    ‘No, definitely not her scene. She doesn’t do pleasure. He should have asked me instead.’ Sophie grinned, but Perez thought she was