White Nights - Ann Cleeves [17]
Sullivan obviously hadn’t found the shift too great a sacrifice, because he was whistling when he got out of the car and grinned at them.
‘Sorry to keep you, gentlemen. A lady in Whiteness was further into labour than she’d realized and we delivered her baby at home. A very bonny little girl!’
Perez wondered if he’d be so cheerful in the winter. There were incomers from the south who couldn’t face the endless nights and the wind. These light nights would soon give way to the storms of the autumn equinox. Perez loved the dramatic change in the seasons but it didn’t suit everyone.
Sullivan took a quick look at the body from the door, then returned to his car. When he came back he was carrying a heavy torch. He shone it into the corners of the hut, lifted a small wooden stepladder that had been hooked on to nails in the wall.
‘I need a closer look. That’s OK?’
Perez nodded. If this turned out to be a crime scene, they’d be lucky if the CSI from Inverness got there that day. Best he got all the information he could now. ‘Just try not to touch anything else.’
The doctor had set up the stepladder so he was level with the hanging man. He shone the torch at the neck.
‘Problems?’
‘Maybe. Not sure yet. It looks like he died of strangulation, but that’s not unusual with hanging. They don’t often go with a quick break of the neck, especially with such a short drop.’ He came down a couple of steps. ‘If I had to place a bet, I’d say he was strangled and already dead before he was strung up. Look: this rope is very thick, but there’s another mark on the neck here and the angle’s rather different. The mark from the thick rope doesn’t quite hide the thin one.’ Now he was standing back beside them. ‘I’d like a second opinion before I call this in as murder, inspector. I’m new here. I don’t want to make a fool of myself.’
‘But you’re pretty sure he didn’t kill himself.’
‘Like I said, inspector, if I was a betting man, I’d say he was already dead before he was hanged. And if I was on my home territory I’d have no hesitation. But it’s not my place and you’ll not get me to commit myself until someone with a bit more experience has taken a look.’
Perez looked at his watch. If this was a murder investigation he’d need to get the team from Inverness in on the last plane of the day. There was still time, but not much. ‘How soon can you get your second opinion?’
‘Give me an hour.’
Perez nodded. He knew he wanted it to be murder. Because of the excitement, because this thrill was what he’d joined the service for, and in Shetland there weren’t so many cases to provide it. And because if the man hadn’t killed himself Perez wasn’t responsible, couldn’t have foreseen it.
Chapter Seven
Lying on her bed, watching the sunlight on the ceiling, Fran tried not to get seduced by the sense of well-being. She had felt equally euphoric after her first night with Duncan and look what had happened there! He’d been sleeping with a woman old enough to be his mother all the time they were married and had made a complete fool of Fran. Thinking about it still made her squirm inside. A breeze from the open window blew the curtain and she had a glimpse of a fat black ewe, chewing, only feet from the house. The curtain fell back into place and Fran pushed images of Perez from her mind.
When she had left Duncan, the temptation had been to run back to live in London, to her gang of friends, the anonymous city streets where nobody knew of her humiliation. But there’d been Cassie to think about. Cassie was nearly six now, had more freedom here than she’d ever have had in London. She had a right to know her father. And Fran had come to love Shetland, despite its bleakness, so she’d moved into a small house in Ravenswick, rented it over the winter to give herself time to make up her mind about where she wanted to be. Three months ago she’d bought it. She’d committed to Shetland. She wasn’t sure, though, whether she could commit yet to Jimmy Perez. It was all