Too Good to Be True Read online

  He walked upstairs. The child’s bedroom had been emptied of most of her clothes. A doll lay on the bed. Perez hoped that a loved soft toy had been taken into care with her.

  He looked into Anna’s room, then went inside and opened the curtains and the window to let in some clean, cold air. The room was untidy. There was a pile of clothes on a chair and make-up on the pine dressing table. Along with the lipstick and perfume, Perez spotted an empty plastic bottle which had once contained Anna’s pills.

  He tried to picture what might have happened on the night of her death. She’d been drinking. Had she roused herself to walk upstairs? Had it been a sudden impulse to take the pills in the bedroom? Why would she then go back to her chair downstairs? It seemed a little odd.

  If Anna had planned to die, wouldn’t she lie on the bed? A final sleep. When Fran, the love of his life, had died he’d thought of killing himself, and had imagined how good it would be to go to sleep and never wake up. But he’d had their daughter Cassie to look after.

  And Anna had had Lucy, he thought, so perhaps it wasn’t suicide after all. He kept changing his mind about what might have happened here. By the bed there was a photo of a woman and a girl. Anna and Lucy. They both had dark curly hair and dark eyes. Both of them were laughing.

  Perez looked at the dressing table again. Along with the clutter of make-up there was a scrap of paper. He’d missed it before because his attention had been caught by the pill bottle. The police must have been so certain Anna had killed herself that they hadn’t done a proper search of the house. Or perhaps the paper had meant nothing to them.

  It was a note written in pencil. It looked as if it had been written in a hurry.

  Got your message. Friday 10th will be fine. Wine will be in the fridge! See you then. A x

  It was in the same handwriting as he’d seen in the file downstairs. The 10th was the day before Anna’s body had been found. The day she was supposed to have killed herself. Perez read the note again. These didn’t sound like the words of a depressed woman. They were almost hopeful, looking forward. Like the flowers in the pretty vase in the living room.

  But if Anna had written the note to confirm a meeting, what was it still doing in her bedroom? Had she never sent it? And if someone had been in this house drinking wine with Anna on that evening, why had they never come forward to the police?

  He went back to the kitchen and looked in the cupboards. Anna had only brought the basics with her. This could be a student house. There were a few mismatched bowls and plates, some cutlery in a tray. Most of her stuff was still dirty on the counter. Perez was tempted to wash it up. In the cupboard there was one clean glass. It still had a white thread of cotton inside from the tea towel, so it had been dried quite recently.

  He stood looking at it and pictured again the evening of Anna’s death. Perhaps there had been a visitor, someone who’d had a glass of wine with Anna? Someone who had taken the trouble to wash up the glass and put it away before leaving the house. And that definitely suggested not suicide – but murder.

  5

  The Village

  Anna’s elderly neighbour must have been looking out for Jimmy Perez leaving her house, because he came to his door and shouted across.

  ‘Everything all right?’

  Perhaps everyone in this village was nosy.

  ‘Yes,’ Jimmy said. ‘I’m surprised the landlord’s not been in to clear the place for the next tenant.’

  ‘Maybe the doctor and his wife thought it wouldn’t look good if they were too hasty. Perhaps they’re showing the lass a bit of respect at last, even if it’s too late.’

  ‘Maybe.’ Perez paused. ‘The local police must have asked if you were at home the evening that Anna died?’

  ‘I’m always at home,’ the man said. ‘Once it gets dark, at least.’

  ‘You didn’t happen to notice if Anna had a visitor?’ Perez leaned on the little wall that separated the man’s garden from the pavement.

  ‘The police asked me that too.’

  ‘And what did you tell them?’ Perez tried to keep his patience.

  ‘That I didn’t see anyone.’

  Perez sensed that the man had more to say. ‘But perhaps you heard a car?’

  ‘Not a car. I didn’t tell the other policemen because I wasn’t sure and they were in such a rush, but I thought I heard voices through the joining wall. It could have been the television, though Anna didn’t watch much TV. Music was more her thing.’

  ‘The voices must have been loud for you to have heard them through the wall,’ Perez said.

  ‘Nah, these houses were put up in a rush just after the war. No sound-proofing at all.’

  ‘So you could hear what was said?’ Perez found that he was holding his breath, waiting for an answer.

  ‘Nah, nothing like that. Just a murmur of voices. Nobody was shouting, and like I said, it could just have been the telly.’ The old man stamped his feet to show that he was feeling the cold and disappeared inside.

  It was still only mid-morning. It must be playtime at the school, Perez thought, because he could hear the children’s voices again. He didn’t want to go back to the hotel and to Elspeth’s questions, but he felt a need for strong coffee and a chance to think in peace.

  On the main street there was a cafe. It must be warm inside because the windows were steamed up and from the pavement he couldn’t see anything at all. He pushed open the door and walked into a small room almost full of women. They had taken over two of the tables and baby buggies were crammed into any spare space. Perez took the one remaining table by the window. The women seemed not to notice him and carried on with their gossip.

  A young waitress came to take his order. Perez wiped a patch in the mist on the window so he could see into the street, but it soon steamed up again. He tried to order his thoughts about the Anna Blackwell case but the young mothers’ voices intruded.

  ‘I feel dreadful,’ one of the women said. ‘I didn’t want to sign that petition to get rid of Miss Blackwell in the first place, but Sarah is chair of governors and she’s always in the school. I thought her reasons for thinking Anna was no good must be real.’

  There was a moment of silence. ‘Well, we didn’t know then that Tom and Anna were such . . .’ There was another pause . . . ‘friends.’

  ‘You can see why Sarah would have wanted her out of the village.’

  Perez had always thought there was a lot of gossip in Shetland, but he had rarely heard anything there that was quite as toxic as this. He could understand for the first time why Sarah was so upset that she had called for his help. It must be a nightmare to face this malice wherever she went.

  The talking continued. ‘Do we know for certain that Tom and Anna were lovers? Gail, you knew Anna better than anyone. Lucy stayed at your house the night it all happened.’

  So this was Gail Kerr, the woman from the farm who’d had Anna’s daughter for the sleepover. She was stocky, a bit older than the others, and she didn’t seem to have a baby with her. She was wearing an anorak over a scruffy sweater. The others seemed to have made more of an effort with their appearances. Some were rather glamorous, shiny and made-up. They could have been in a fancy restaurant instead of a scruffy cafe.

  ‘Well, my brother Sandy saw them walking together through the woods,’ said Gail, resting her elbows on the table. ‘He said they were so wrapped up in each other that a bomb could have dropped and they wouldn’t have noticed.’

  The waitress brought Jimmy’s coffee. It was hardly warm and didn’t taste of anything.

  ‘But you don’t really think he killed her?’ the first woman said. ‘Not Tom! He’s a doctor. A kind man. He looked after my mother when she had cancer and he couldn’t have been more caring.’

  ‘It’s just too much of a coincidence.’ It was Gail again. ‘Something weird was going on there. If the Kings didn’t kill her, they drove her to suicide.’

  Jimmy Perez couldn’t stand any more of their unkindness. He drank
his coffee in one go, paid the bill and went outside.

  Next to the cafe an estate agents’ office was advertising houses to let. On impulse Perez went inside. A middle-aged woman in a suit looked up from her computer screen.

  He showed his ID. ‘Do you manage a property owned by Doctor King?’

  ‘The house in Woodburn Close? Yes, that’s one of ours.’

  ‘I’m making inquiries about the most recent tenant,’ he said. ‘Anna Blackwell.’

  The estate agent turned round in her chair to give him her full attention. ‘She was the woman who died.’

  ‘That’s right,’ Perez said. ‘I assume she had to provide a deposit before she moved in? Someone had to vouch for her?’

  ‘No . . .’ The woman paused. ‘It was a more informal arrangement.’

  ‘In what way informal?’

  ‘I understood that she was a friend of Doctor King’s. He said there was no need for her to pay in advance. He could vouch for her.’

  Perez considered this. How had Tom King met the young teacher before she moved to Stonebridge? A thought leapt into his head. Was it possible, even, that he was the father of her child?

  ‘Do you have a previous address for Miss Blackwell?’

  The woman turned back to the keyboard. ‘Yes, we do have that, I think, because we had to send out a contract before she moved in.’ She hit a button and a printer began to whir. She handed a sheet of paper to Perez.

  The address was in Berwick, just south of the border, in England.

  ‘I believe that was her parents’ address,’ the estate agent said. ‘Miss Blackwell had been at university in Edinburgh and had just finished her degree. She suggested the Berwick address would be the best one to use.’

  Perez wondered why Anna’s parents hadn’t come forward to take care of their granddaughter, Lucy, after her mother’s death. He’d assumed that there was no close family. It seemed very sad that the grandparents had allowed the little girl to be sent off to be cared for by strangers. Perhaps Anna’s parents were old-fashioned and didn’t approve of a child born out of marriage.

  Outside in the street, the village was very quiet – there were no children’s voices. Soon it would be lunchtime and they would be out to play again, Perez thought. Stonebridge seemed sad without them.

  6

  The Farm

  Jimmy Perez was thinking that he’d go back to the Stonebridge Hotel for lunch when he saw a woman leaving the cafe where he’d had coffee earlier.

  The woman was alone. The other yummy mummies must still be inside talking, he thought. It was Gail, the mother from the farm, and she made her way towards a battered Land Rover parked in the wide main street. He caught up with her just before she opened the Land Rover’s door.

  ‘Could I have a word?’

  She turned round and stared at him. ‘Who are you?’

  ‘I’m a detective. My name’s Jimmy Perez. I’m just checking some details concerning Anna Blackwell’s death.’

  ‘But she killed herself.’ Gail was still staring. ‘According to the local police the case has been closed.’

  Something in her eyes made him ask, ‘Do you think it shouldn’t have been?’

  She looked at him carefully. ‘Look,’ she said. ‘I can’t stay here and chat. I’ve got to get home for a delivery of feed for my hens. Why don’t you come too and we can talk? I might even find some soup for your lunch. I’ve got to come back to Stonebridge to collect my little girl from school at three o’clock and I can give you a lift back then.’

  So Perez climbed in beside her and Gail drove out of the village. It seemed like a sort of escape. He realised how trapped he’d been feeling in the village with its bitchy women and the dark woods all around it.

  They took a lane that rose sharply away from the river, and as they rounded a corner there was a view of a whitewashed house at the end of a rough track. ‘I love this place,’ Gail said. ‘I was born here and I can’t imagine living anywhere else.’

  She parked the Land Rover in the farmyard. Perez could see sheep on the hill behind the house and hens in a small orchard beside the yard. He thought it looked like a child’s idea of a farm rather than the real thing – it could have come from a picture book. Gail seemed to read his thoughts.

  ‘It’s only a smallholding really,’ she said. ‘My parents sold off most of the land years ago. Now my brother and I run it almost as a hobby. We’re trying our best to make a go of it. Sandy has a full-time job working for the forestry commission, and that just about keeps us afloat.’

  ‘What does your husband do?’

  There was a moment’s silence and then Gail answered:

  ‘He died three months ago in a car crash. He had real plans for the place. He thought we should turn some of the buildings into holiday lets. Without him I can’t seem to work up the same passion for the project, but I’ll try to make a go of it as a tribute to him.’

  She opened the farmhouse door and led him into a cluttered kitchen. ‘Will you have some soup?’

  He nodded and sat at the table. He thought how strong she must be to carry on with her everyday life when her husband had so recently passed away. Perez had been good for nothing for months after Fran had been killed. He’d just brooded.

  ‘Lucy Blackwell stayed here the night Anna died?’ he asked.

  She nodded. ‘My daughter Grace is best friends with Lucy. They’re both only children, so it was good that they each had someone to play with. Lucy loved it here. All this space is perfect for children and she enjoyed helping with the animals.’ Gail slid a pan onto the hotplate of the range. ‘Grace is so sad that Lucy’s moved away.’

  ‘Were you and Anna friends?’

  Gail turned away from the stove to face him. ‘Well, we didn’t have a lot in common. Anna was young enough to be my daughter. I was forty when I had Grace. John and I married late. And I’ve lived all my life here, and Anna was English and had moved around. But we got on OK. She was great with the girls and I liked her.’

  ‘Was she the sort of woman who might have killed herself?’

  There was a long pause before Gail answered. ‘I wouldn’t have said so when she arrived in the village last year. She was full of enthusiasm and ideas then. I was pleased that we’d have some-one young and fit to teach the little ones. Freda had been there a long time and she was still teaching in the same way as when she first started in the job. She’d taught lots of the children’s parents.’

  ‘But later?’

  Gail tipped home-made soup into a bowl and set it in front of Perez. ‘Later it all seemed to get too much for Anna. It can’t have been easy dealing with a small child and a full-time job all on her own.’

  ‘You seem to manage,’ he said.

  ‘Aye, well, I’m a little bit older and I have lots of friends in the village. Besides, I’m not really on my own. My brother Sandy lives here too.’ Gail looked up from her soup and smiled. ‘But not for much longer, it seems! He’s just got engaged and he’ll be moving into a home of his own.’

  ‘You’ll miss him,’ Perez said.

  Gail grinned again. ‘I will, but he’s marrying a lovely girl and they won’t be living far away. Besides, Grace, my daughter, is great company now.’

  There was a knock at the door. ‘That’ll be the feed delivery,’ Gail said. ‘You’ll have to excuse me.’

  She went out into the farmyard. Perez wandered around the kitchen. There was a picture of Gail on her wedding day standing next to a giant of a man with a beard. He must be the husband who’d died. They were surrounded in the photo by laughing friends and family.

  When Gail returned to the kitchen, it seemed that she’d made up her mind to speak, because she started talking as soon as she came into the room. ‘Did you know that there are lots of rumours about Tom King and Anna?’

  ‘What sort of rumours?’

  ‘People are saying that Tom and Anna were lovers. He owns that little house in the village where she lived, after all. And Tom’s wife
Sarah took against her as soon as she started at the school. It was as if she wanted to get rid of Anna as soon as she arrived.’

  ‘Do you know who started the rumours?’ Perez pushed away his soup bowl and put his elbows on the table.

  ‘Who can tell where gossip begins in a place like Stonebridge? The stories are like weeds, they seem to grow out of nowhere and then they spread, so there’s no way of stopping them.’

  Gail was silent for a moment. ‘When my husband died in the car crash there were rumours that he’d been drinking. It wasn’t true and it’s dreadfully hurtful at a time when I’m still grieving for him. I don’t know who started that gossip either.’

  ‘But you think there might have been truth in the story about Tom and Anna?’ Perez remembered Gail talking in the cafe. It had seemed then that she believed the two had been lovers.

  Gail shrugged. ‘They’ve been seen together and they seemed very close. Sarah obviously couldn’t stand Anna. Perhaps we’ve all jumped to conclusions, but it seems to make sense.’ She stood up. ‘I’ll get you back to Stonebridge. The kids will be coming out of school soon.’

  As they drove through the open countryside and into the village, Perez felt a stab of dread. It was as if he was being taken back to prison after a brief period of home leave.

  7

  The School

  Back in Stonebridge, Jimmy Perez went to his hotel room. He wanted to talk to Robert Anderson, the local police inspector, about the cleaned wine glass in the cupboard at Anna’s house. He also wanted to find out why Anna’s parents weren’t taking care of their granddaughter Lucy.

  But Jimmy was told that Inspector Anderson was in a meeting and wouldn’t be available all day. Perez left a message for Robert to call him back.

  He stood at his window and watched a flurry of snow blow across from the hills. Parents had collected their children from school and were hurrying home. He saw Gail’s Land Rover move away down the main street. Back outside, the light was already fading and it felt colder.