White Nights - Ann Cleeves [42]
‘Not enough work, Sandy? That’s fine then, because there’s something I’d like you to do for me. A guy dressed as a clown was handing out flyers at Morrison’s Dock the day before yesterday to all the passengers coming off the cruise ship. Someone else must have seen him. Go and talk to anyone who was working there. Did anyone chat to him? Find out who he was and where he was staying.’
‘You think he’s our victim?’
‘Two strange men dressed as clowns in Shetland on the same day? A bit of a coincidence, wouldn’t you think?’
Sandy looked sheepish and grinned. ‘Someone phoned for you,’ he said. ‘Kenny Thomson.’
‘What did he want?’
‘I don’t know. He wouldn’t speak to me. Nothing that won’t wait. He said it wasn’t urgent.’
So Perez left without phoning Kenny back, allowing more time than he needed for the drive south, thinking he could make the call from his mobile while he was hanging round at the airport. He had to drive right past Fran’s house on the way to Sumburgh. He saw her silhouette in the window of the bedroom she used as a studio. She was working. He imagined her standing in front of her easel, frowning, oblivious of everything going on around her. She said her work was all about concentration. Sometimes she spent all day on a piece, not even stopping to eat. He admired her passion, but he didn’t quite understand it. He couldn’t concentrate for more than twenty minutes at a time without wanting coffee, contact, the feedback of other people.
He speeded up and carried on down the road. Sumburgh was crowded with people who’d been trapped in Shetland by the fog. There was competition for places on the first plane south and some of the passengers were irritable. There was an English family: a man and a woman, a toddler in a buggy, a baby in a sling. ‘What sort of place is this?’ the woman said. Her voice was too loud, she needed other people to hear her. ‘A bit of mist and everything grinds to a stop. If this is your idea of an adventurous holiday, Charles, you can keep it. Next year we’re going back to Tuscany.’
As she set down a piece of charcoal, Fran caught a glimpse of Perez’s car driving past. She paused for a moment, half expecting him to stop, but he drove on. She watched with relief as he continued down the hill. The thought of him had been at the back of her mind all morning, but she didn’t want to dwell on it now. She had so little time to work. The school day was short and there were only a few more hours before she would need to collect Cassie from class. She turned back to the sketch, an idea for a larger piece, her head full of colour and shape. Perez was forgotten.
Chapter Fifteen
Edith had taken a day off work. Kenny was delighted. He liked nothing better than having her at home all day. This was how things had been arranged when his parents had been living here – his mother had never gone out to work. And it had been like this when his own children were young. Even when he was working outside it made him happy to know that she was in the house.
Because Edith wasn’t in a rush to get off to work, they had breakfast a little later than normal. Edith made the coffee she liked, spooning the grounds into the cafetiere, which she put on the Rayburn to keep warm, and pouring in the water from the kettle slowly and carefully. Kenny thought that later in the afternoon, when he’d finished the neeps and they’d walked on the hill together to look at the sheep, they would make love.
Looking at her standing with her back to him, reaching into the cupboard to fetch down her mug, he thought he would like to take her back to bed with him now. Her hair was still pinned up from her shower, so her neck was bare. She wore jeans which fitted well around her backside. He liked her in jeans so much better than in the smart work clothes. Even in middle age her body was firm.