White Nights - Ann Cleeves [15]
When he came to the house, Perez knocked at the kitchen door. He stood for a moment. There was no answer and he was wondering if he should let himself in when Kenny came up behind him, a scruffy dog completely silent beside him.
‘I was looking out for you,’ Kenny said. ‘Sandy said he’d called you. But I thought I might as well get on with some work. We’re planning on clipping the sheep at the end of the week.’
‘Do you want to carry on? We can talk just the same.’
‘No, I was about ready for a coffee. You’ll join me?’
The kitchen was tidier than most croft houses Perez had been in. Kenny stood at the door and unlaced his boots before walking inside with stockinged feet. Perez checked that his shoes were clean before following. The room was square with a table in the middle, a couple of easy chairs close to the Rayburn. The fitted cupboards and the fancy appliances all Kenny’s work, Perez thought, but chosen by Edith. A jug of campion stood on the windowsill, its deep pink matching a motif in the wall tiles. Everything planned and ordered. The breakfast things, still unwashed on the draining board, were the only items out of place.
Kenny must have seen Perez looking at them. ‘I’ll have those done before Edith gets in,’ he said. ‘It only seems right when she’s been at work all day. Are you all right with instant? Edith likes the real stuff – Ingirid bought her a fancy machine for Christmas – but I’ve always thought it kind of bitter.’
‘Of course,’ Perez said. ‘Whatever you’re having.’ He could have done with a strong espresso, but knew it wouldn’t be right to ask.
He waited until Kenny joined him at the kitchen table before starting the questions.
‘What time did you find him?’
Kenny considered. Everything he did would be slow and deliberate. Except dancing, thought Perez, remembering the scene in the Fair Isle hall. He was a wild dancer.
‘It would have been about ten-past nine this morning. Edith had left for work around half-past eight and I was thinking about starting on the neeps; there aren’t many days like this, even in the summer.’ He smiled. ‘I was tempted by the fishing. Thought we might have a bit of a barbecue tonight if I got lucky and brought back some piltock or mackerel.’
Perez nodded. ‘I know you didn’t see his face, but do you have any idea who the dead man might be? We need to identify him.’
Another pause. ‘No. I’d never met him.’
‘But you might have some idea?’
‘Bella had one of her parties last night. The place was full of strangers.’
Not so full.
‘You weren’t there yourself, Kenny. I thought she always asked Biddista folk to her openings. I thought you were the inspiration for her work.’
Kenny’s face was brown and lined. It cracked into a brief mischievous smile. ‘That’s what she tells the media. Did you see that TV documentary about her and Roddy? I’ll never believe anything I see on the TV again. They came to film in Biddista, you know, followed me around one day and you’d think from the programme I was some great landowner, almost a laird.’ The kettle came to a boil. ‘Don’t be taken in by the stories, Jimmy. Bella Sinclair always thought she was better than us. Even when we were at school and she was living in a council house down at the shore. It was true that she could always draw, mind, even as a scrap of a girl. She seemed to see things differently from the rest of us.’
‘Do you know