Red Bones (Shetland Quartet 3)

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    His mind left the inquiry, drifted back to Fran and again to marriage. Would she laugh if he proposed to her? It would seem an old-fashioned concept to her and quite outdated. Ridicule would almost certainly be her response.
    When the ferry sailed off he got up. He went to the shop in Symbister and bought bread rolls, cheese, ham, fruit and cakes. There were other customers there and they fell silent until he left, when he was aware of a sudden buzz of conversation behind him. He turned back to the shop to buy a couple of cans of beer and was amused that the silence returned. He put his purchases in his car and drove to the Bod to see Sophie. With Berglund out of the way he supposed he’d find her alone.
    She was sitting inside the bothy at the Formica table, seemed to be filling in some sort of form. He could see her through the grimy window. Remembering the time she’d found him there uninvited, he was careful to knock and wait outside until she called him in. She seemed disappointed. ‘Oh, it’s you.’
    ‘Who were you expecting?’
    She hesitated. ‘I thought Paul might call in before he left.’
    ‘No,’ Perez said. ‘He’s already gone. I saw him go off on the ferry.’
    ‘I’m tidying up the paperwork for the project before I leave.’ Sophie turned round in her seat. ‘There’s no point my hanging around here. I might as well go back to London. It was what I planned anyway.’
    ‘So you’ll be running a cafe bar in Richmond?’
    She grinned up at him. ‘Maybe. That’s one of the options. I’m not going to rush into anything. Maybe I’ll just take some time out.’
    Perez was going to ask what she would do for money, but he saw that was no real concern for her. He didn’t think he’d met anyone before who didn’t have to work for a living. Duncan Hunter was probably the richest person he knew, but he still worked.
    ‘Will you stay with your parents?’
    ‘In their house. Daddy’s just gone off to Hong Kong for six months. Something about one of the businesses. So they’re not there.’
    ‘You don’t want to be with them?’ He thought despite the confidence and the loud voice she could use some support.
    ‘Why would I want that?’ Her voice was scathing. ‘I’m a grown-up. I’m not going to run away to Mummy every time I feel a bit miserable. Besides, all my friends are in London.’
    ‘Why are you miserable?’
    She stared at him as if he were completely mad. ‘Why do you think? The person I’ve been sharing my life with for two months just killed herself. But don’t worry. A couple of decent nights out and I’ll be fine.’
    ‘Is that what you believe? That Hattie killed herself?’
    ‘Of course. What other explanation is there?’
    He didn’t answer directly. ‘I’ve got a picnic,’ he said. ‘Let’s go up the island and have a bit of a walk.’
    Again she stared at him as if he was a madman.
    ‘It’s all right,’ he said, though he wasn’t quite sure why she might need reassuring. ‘I just want to go somewhere we won’t be disturbed or overheard.’
    They parked near the golf clubhouse. Again the weather was unusually mild: a gusty breeze blew startling white clouds and there were moments of bright sunlight. There were no other cars there and the golf course seemed deserted. They walked right to the end of the island and sat on rocks looking out to the Skerries, the inhabited island which stood very clear on the horizon.
    ‘I’ve lived all my life in Shetland and I’ve never been there,’ Perez said. He handed her one of the cans of beer and spread the food on a flat rock. A red-throated diver flew over their heads calling. Last time I heard that sound , Perez thought, was just before Hattie’s body was found . Although he knew it was superstition, he felt uneasy. What terrible thing would happen now? He turned his attention back to the Skerries. ‘Maybe I should pay a visit one day.’
    Sophie tugged on the ring pull of the can. ‘What is all this about?’ she said. ‘What do you want from me?’ She was wearing shorts again and the big boots, a loose sweater with holes in the elbows. No bra, he thought. She leaned forward with her arms on her knees.
    ‘What do you think of Paul Berglund?’ Perez asked.
    He pulled apart a crusty roll and cut a piece of cheese off the block of Orkney cheddar with his penknife, handed the makeshift sandwich to her.
    ‘I’ve always found Paul OK,’ she said. ‘He’s been all right to