White Nights - Ann Cleeves [44]
‘I can’t go looking like this.’ But he could tell she was pleased by the suggestion.
‘Why not? You look lovely. You always look lovely.’
They walked down the track together, hand in hand. Kenny felt as if he was on holiday too. He took a quick look towards the jetty. There was a police car there and tape stretched right across the entrance, but nothing much seemed to be happening. He guessed that the police from Inverness hadn’t arrived yet.
The café at the Herring House let in all the light whatever time of day it was. Extra windows had been built into the wall facing the water.
There were more people there than you’d usually get on a weekday morning, and Kenny recognized some of them. A couple of elderly ladies from Middleton who’d taken a trip out in case there was anything to see. They turned out for any reported accident or disaster. A journalist from the Shetland Times. It occurred to Kenny that the plane bringing in the Inverness police would also be carrying reporters from the national press. Now he was here he felt awkward. He supposed he and Edith were just like the others; they’d come to the Herring House in hope of news.
Martin Williamson came out from the kitchen to take their order. He had a light, almost dancing, way of walking that made Kenny think of a racehorse just before it went into the stalls. Kenny nodded at the other customers. ‘At least it’s good for business, then, having a dead body next door.’
Martin grinned. ‘Aye. I’ll not be sorry when they take it away though. It seems kind of weird, leaving it there all night. Mother’s in a right state about it. I don’t think she slept.’
‘I know she’s upset. She came to see me yesterday.’
‘You can’t blame her,’ Edith said. ‘When you think what happened to your father. It must bring it all back.’
‘Have you heard when the police from Inverness will get here?’ Kenny asked. He was thinking that Perez hadn’t phoned him back. When the dead man was taken away he’d have a chance to see him, then he’d know for certain that it couldn’t be Lawrence. The more he struggled to conjure his brother’s features in his head, the more they became blurred and slid away from him.
‘First plane out of Aberdeen,’ Martin said. ‘They’ll be in any time.’
Kenny asked for a cappuccino for Edith and a latte for himself. They always had the same when they came here. Because it seemed like a holiday he added a couple of pieces of cake to the order and Martin danced away.
They’d almost finished when Roddy Sinclair made an entrance. He stood at the door and heads turned. Everyone recognized him and there was a brief moment of silence before the conversation continued. He looked as if he’d just got out of his bed. His hair was tousled and he still seemed half asleep. Or maybe, Kenny thought, he’d been up all night. He didn’t find a table and wait for Martin to take his order, but walked towards the kitchen, leaned on the doorframe and shouted in.
‘Double espresso. Strong as you like.’ There were other people at the tables waiting to order, but nobody seemed to mind him jumping the queue. Typical Sinclair, Kenny thought. They’re arrogant, the lot of them. Across the tables, one of the Middleton old ladies smiled at the boy and gave him a little wave. Kenny thought that was typical too. Women would let the Sinclair boy get away with anything.
Roddy tilted his body away from the doorframe so he was standing upright.
‘Fantastic view from here,’ he said. ‘It always surprises me.’ He sauntered towards them. ‘Do you mind if I join you?’
‘We’ll be going soon,’ Kenny said, but the boy seemed not to hear and sat down anyway. Outside now there was strong sunshine. A sailing boat was on the water halfway to the horizon. Kenny tried to work out who might own it and decided it didn’t belong to anyone local.
Roddy leaned forward across the table. ‘I understand you were the one to find the body.’ His accent was just as strong as when he’d been a boy. Kenny wondered if he practised at night in his Glasgow flat, in