Red Bones - Ann Cleeves [48]
‘They knocked down the old house and built on the same site,’ Sandy said. ‘Ronald and Anna lived here too while they were waiting for their place to be finished.’
‘There’d be plenty of room.’
‘Aye. It’s a grand place for a party.’
It seemed a poor excuse to put up such a monstrosity.
Jackie had seen them coming and had the door open before they had the chance to ring the bell. She was small, wiry and energetic, with dyed blonde hair so tightly curled that it might have been a wig. Perez guessed she was older than Evelyn. She wore a white T-shirt in Lycra with diamante letters on the front. Perez didn’t want to stare at her chest to read it and by the end of the visit was still not sure what it said. Her jeans had more diamante on the pockets. Her sandals were gold. In the house the central heating was full on and even with the door open the heat was overwhelming. Perez was still dressed for the ferry and began to sweat.
Jackie seemed to know exactly who he was and why he was there. ‘Ronald’s in the kitchen,’ she said. ‘The baby’s finally gone to sleep, so Anna thought she’d do some work and he decided to keep out of her way.’ She paused briefly for breath. ‘Whoever would have thought you could make a business out of teaching people to knit and to spin? It’s always seemed an old-fashioned kind of pastime to me and it’s so easy, with the internet, to buy clothes in. But Anna says it’s a big business in America. In my day it was enough for us to look after the house and bring up the bairns, but now all the women want work of their own. It doesn’t seem right so soon after the baby was born.’ She paused again. He wondered if she was remembering the time when Andrew was skipper of a trawler and Ronald was a boy.
‘Thanks,’ he said. He didn’t want to encourage the flow of words. He understood that Jackie was nervous on behalf of her son, but her tension was having an effect on him. He suddenly felt an irrational panic, as if the woman’s stress was contagious.
The kitchen was the size of his house, with chunky units built of orange pine, a six-hob range cooker and a huge stainless-steel fridge. Jackie pointed out the main features of the room with pride. ‘We’ve just had it done.’ Her speech was rapid, clipped. It reminded him of the regular metronomic click of knitting needles. ‘The old one was looking kind of tired.’
Ronald sat at the table reading a newspaper. Not the Shetland Times, one of the more intelligent nationals. When he saw them come in he got to his feet. He appeared to Perez like one of the rabbits he dazzled and then shot, terrified but unable to move. Next to him was an older man.
‘This is Andrew,’ Jackie said. ‘My husband.’
The man waved a hand at them. He was a giant, tall and big-boned, with frizzy grey hair and a full grey beard. Perez could tell Andrew Clouston wasn’t well, but wasn’t sure how he knew. Something about the stiffness of the gesture, the brief moment of panic in the eyes at seeing a stranger in the house. The fact that he was wearing slippers and a cardigan rather than working clothes during the day. Jackie stroked his shoulder. ‘There’s nothing to worry about. He just wants to speak to Ronald.’
‘Perhaps Ronald and I could talk on our own.’ Perez thought the house was sufficiently large to allow half a dozen confidential interviews. It wasn’t that he felt the need for privacy, but he wanted to escape the woman’s words for a while.
‘You can use the office,’ Jackie said. Ronald seemed to have lost the power of speech.
The office was on the ground floor just off the lobby. There was a desk with a PC, printer and scanner. Perez shut the door behind him and leaned against it. He nodded to Ronald to take the chair.
‘The Fiscal’s decided not to proceed with the matter,’ he said at once. ‘You won’t