The Body in the Bracken Page 12

  It all ought to be above-board; except for that odd mention of Ivor passing on information. There had been no need for Jeemie to speak of that, unless it was going round that I was interested in Ivor. Beryl had probably seen Robert-John give me a lift, that day of the party, and put two and two together. I could just see her leaning over to her far-out cousin, my dad’s cleaner Jessie: ‘And sho was axing a lock o’ questions about Ivor Hughson, him that was married to Julie and went off south …’ Jessie might reply that Robert-John had been round talking to Dad, and before an hour was past they’d both be spreading a highly coloured version round all their friends. Jeemie looked to me like one who’d be well up in the gossip chain. Had he thrown me that connection with Ivor as a tub to distract a whale?

  But distract me from what? I remembered his uneasiness as I’d looked at the jewellery, palpable as a cold wind. Was it possible, I wondered, that Ivor had been nicking stuff from boxes as he transported them from place to place?

  Whaar der truss, der buss. Ivor would warn Jeemie of the person moving, Jeemie would have a look around and suggest items to Ivor, and Ivor would take them. A grandmother’s engagement ring, kept safely but never worn, wouldn’t be missed like an ornament that took up pride of place on the mantelpiece. £725 clear profit to share between them … but was Ivor, was Jeemie, really so unpleasant a person as to run a racket like that? I could see Jeemie doing it. There was a slyness about him that made my back neck creep. Ivor, though, no. It wasn’t just reluctance to think ill of a fellow-sailor. He’d been brash, Ivor, a charmer, too … too big for a scheme like that. I gestured with my hands, trying to articulate it to myself. Ivor was a bolder character than that. I could see him getting involved in some daft quixotic big scam – stealing the Stone of Destiny would have been right up his street – but not in this petty thievery. Jeemie, though, Jeemie could easily pocket a ring here, a brooch there, as he looked through a jewellery box, especially as folk in Shetland wouldn’t be suspiciously standing over him. But he’d be known as the last person to have howked about in the box, when the item was found to be missing … I shook my head and got on with my tea.

  Chapter Fifteen

  I was just at the cup of tea stage, with a blanket wrapped round my legs, Cat purring in my lap, and both of us drawing warmth from each other, when I heard the gate clang. It was Julie Hughson in her businesswoman jacket, face shadowed by the fur-lined hood. I expected her to go to Ivor’s boat, but she continued along the pontoon, and paused by the finger leading out to Khalida, her face uncertain. I untangled my legs, still watching her. A step backwards and a deep breath, then she tapped on the roof of my cabin. I clambered into the cockpit, gesturing her in. ‘Come aboard.’

  I waved her into the corner seat which I still thought of as my friend Anders’ place, and re-lit the gas under the kettle. The lamplight gave her tanned face a gold colour, but her eyes looked haunted, with dark shadows under them, and a blotched look as if she’d been crying. Her fingers were restless, plucking at her fur collar, running along the edge of the table. Cat put out a paw to tap them, thinking she wanted to play, and she jumped, and laid them in her lap. ‘This is right boanie, with all the older wood. There’s a lot of wood in Ivor’s one, but it’s all new. This is like a real old boat.’ She tried to suppress a shiver. ‘You don’t find it cold, living aboard in winter?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said frankly. ‘You should see Cat and I at night, huddled together under two downies. Tea, or drinking chocolate? It’s sweet, but warming.’

  She shook her head. ‘I’m no’ keen on sweet things. A cup of tea would be fine.’ She had a good teaching voice, low-pitched, and pleasant to listen to. I made the tea, and waited for her to tell me what she’d come about.

  She clasped her hands around the mug, hesitated, then plunged in. ‘I had a visit from Robert-John on his way home from his work. He thought I ought to know – he’d had a phone call from his sister …’ She’d got tangled in her sentence. She took a deep breath and came to the point. ‘Is there any truth in the rumour that the skeleton you found down south is Ivor?’

  I looked her straight in the face. ‘I don’t know. I couldn’t ken him. It’s a possibility, that’s all.’ Made the more possible by the speed my questions had been passed round the Georgeson clan. ‘Someone from Inverness HQ will likely be contacting you soon, to ask about dental records.’

  She shook her head, wondering. ‘But how did they connect a skeleton down in the Highlands with Ivor? He was here, he brought the boat back.’

  ‘I suppose the connection was me.’ I jerked my chin at the gas tap. ‘Someone tried blowing me up. Of course I wondered why, and that was all I could think of – that I was joining the two ends of the puzzle, the unidentified skeleton there and the man who’d disappeared here.’

  ‘I never thought of him as having disappeared,’ Julie said. ‘He left a “Dear Julie” note on the kitchen table and went south on the boat.’ She grimaced. ‘I expected him back, once he’d got it out of his system. His boat was here, his stuff. I didn’t realise until Robert-John told me that he’d screwed up the business as well.’

  Curiouser and curiouser. ‘You mean he didn’t take much with him?’

  Julie shook her head. ‘Hardly anything. His car and a bag of clothes, as far as I could see.’ She flushed. ‘I was that angry, I fired all he’d left in the drawers into black bags and shoved it into the bottom of his wardrobe. Then, when it had been three months without a word, I decided that was that.’ Her dark eyes were stone-hard. ‘No phone call, no’ even a lawyer’s letter. So I packed up every last thing that had belonged to him, from his teddy bear to his business suit, and took it to Save the Children. I changed the locks, cleaned the house from top to bottom, re-organised the furniture, and took off for Christmas in Tenerife.’

  ‘A clean sweep.’

  She nodded. ‘Yea, that was it. He’d gone out of my life after all these years, so I decided I’d have done with him. If he came back, there’d be nothing left there he could return to.’ Her thin hands clutched the fur at her throat. ‘Nothing inside me either.’ One hand made a chopping gesture. ‘Finish.’ Her face crumpled. ‘And now it seems …’ She lifted her hands to her face; her shoulders shook. I sat stroking Cat, understanding. She’d made herself hate him because he’d left her without a word, and now it seemed he hadn’t done that. If he’d not been killed, the word might have come.

  Julie lifted her head again. Her eyes were bright with tears, but her mouth was set in a determined line. ‘I’m fed up of the lying. I’ll tell you. It wasn’t just about having a baby, though I suppose that was part of it. Ivor didn’t see himself as ever being grown up. He didn’t want a family. He didn’t want to believe he was forty.’ Her cheeks flushed, under the tan. ‘I said we’d come home through the Caledonian canal, up through Loch Ness, because that was the plan, but it wasn’t that way at all. I’d been aboard just one night when I found a pair of knickers that werena mine. Well, of course there was a row. I was that mad that I stormed out and I thought about coming home, but you see aabody kent how long we were going for, and I didna want to come home early and face all the questions. So I did the same as Hubert, sight-seed round the Highlands for those four days, until my Inverness booking. Ivor tried to phone me several times, but I just snicked the phone off. Then … when I came home …’

  She drew a long, shuddering breath. ‘I wondered at the time about the odd way he’d taken his clothes. It was like he’d just taken half of each drawer: socks, underwear, T-shirts, shirts. His suit, too, he’d left the new one and taken the old.’ Her brows drew together. ‘Of course, it wasn’t him who packed it at all. She was watching for him to come in.’ Her voice hardened. ‘In my house, while I was down south. And then …’ She began twisting the fur collar in her hands again. ‘Me going like that, I think it made him realise. When he came home to her, he told her it was over, and she killed him. But why should she have taken his body down to this loch south?’

  �
�Hang on,’ I said. ‘Who’s she?’

  Julie’s voice was venomous. ‘I hadn’t found out her name. I was too proud to go following him, but I knew she existed. He was pretty obvious about it. Late meetings, working overtime, an “overnight down south” with the van parked in Lerwick for all to see.’

  My head was spinning. ‘But why should she kill him?’

  ‘Because of the holiday.’ Julie shook her head in impatience at my slowness. ‘We’d booked this holiday together, to make time to re-discover each other. I wasn’t keen on the sailing, but I knew I had to make an effort, or we’d be over. And it worked, for that first night.’ She went a delicate pink under the tan. ‘We talked about what had gone wrong, and how we could fix it. Oh, I was angry about the girl, but I thought, I thought that he’d be waiting when I came home, with bubbly in the fridge, to coax me round, the way he always had. Then, when I arrived …’ Her hand clenched into a fist. ‘Don’t you see, he told the girlfriend it was over, and she killed him.’ She bit her lip. ‘I carried the note everywhere for a week. Just having it in my pocket reminded me it was true. It was his handwriting, I’m sure it was.’ Her eyes opened wide, her jaw fell. ‘It was,’ she repeated. ‘But it wasn’t to me.’ She turned to face me, vehement, eyes flashing. ‘It was to her, don’t you see? Darling, I can’t go on any more. It’s just not fair. I love you, but this has to be the end. Ivor.’

  As a finish to twenty years of marriage, it left a lot to be desired. Even I could see that. As an end to an affair, it was only marginally better.

  ‘She killed him, and left it on my table. It was her revenge, because in the end he’d loved me better.’

  Only she knew their history. If re-writing it made her feel better, then I supposed it was a good thing. Nothing she’d said had made me feel Ivor was capable of loving anyone better than he loved himself, but what did I know about love? My last attempt at it had ended in the middle of the Atlantic, with Alain’s death.

  ‘And she killed him, and took the body where she hoped nobody would ever find it, because if it was found here, if I came home to find him lying here, dead two days ago, when I’d been miles away, then she’d be the prime suspect.’

  I didn’t see why the girlfriend would’ve taken the body to Scotland to dispose of it, when there were perfectly good cliffs and bogs in Shetland. Julie stood up. ‘It was her. I know it.’ She handed me her cup and smoothed her collar. ‘I’ll wait for the Inverness police to contact me, then.’ Her face twisted again. ‘You know what I can’t forgive him? Even if he’s dead. He gave her my great-grandmother’s engagement ring. If the police find her, I want it back.’ Her mouth turned down. ‘No’ that I could bear to wear it, after her having had it, but it was mine. He had no right.’

  ‘No,’ I agreed.

  Julie spread her hands. There was no wedding ring mark on the smooth tan. She touched one middle finger with the other hand, as if drawing off a ring. ‘It was that pretty. I was afraid to wear it, because it was so old, and the stone was loose, and people always wanted to see how the hands unclasped, so I didn’t wear it to work, but there’s to be a college do next Friday, so I thought, instead of my wedding ring – and then I looked for it, and it was gone. Her voice hardened. ‘I’d know it anywhere. If she still has it, that’ll be proof it was her, won’t it?’

  ‘Unless she got rid of it, in a fright,’ I agreed. An old ring with clasping hands over a stone … Maybe I’d been doing Jeemie an injustice. Maybe his uneasiness was because he’d recognised Ivor’s girlfriend, trying to get rid of the ring he’d given her. I wondered how well Jeemie kept his records of who’d sold him each object.

  I told Gavin about it when he phoned. ‘Julie’s convinced herself that the note was to the girlfriend, not to her, and that the girlfriend then killed him, for revenge.’

  ‘If the skeleton is him, if he was having an affair, we’ll find out who with soon enough.’

  ‘I think Inga’s brother-in-law knows.’ I remembered the conversation on New Year’s Day. Beryl had said, Another woman, and Harald’s wife had leaned forward as if she was going to speak, then Harald had shaken his head at her. That’s in the past, and the least said, the shoonest mended. ‘Or it may be in Jeemie’s records, the antiques dealer. Doesn’t he have to keep a record of who he buys things from?’

  ‘It would be usual,’ Gavin said cautiously, ‘but I’ve never had the impression that Shetlanders are obsessed with book-keeping. Explain to me the chain between our skeleton and Julie visiting you. I’m finding that a bit suspicious.’

  ‘I think it’s okay. When Maman went in to see Mr Georgeson senior, the owner of Georgeson Removals –’

  He cut in, very gently. ‘Had she a particular reason for visiting him?’

  ‘Fair cop,’ I conceded. ‘She was asking about a piano removal.’

  ‘I haven’t met your mother, but your father seemed a sensible man.’ It was still gently said, but I could tell he wasn’t happy, his smooth voice rougher, like a stream running over pebbles. ‘What was he saying about this?’

  I chuckled. ‘He was in the back shop, in a boiler suit and toorie cap, with his best Dublin accent, asking about work there.’ I left a pause for Gavin to object, if he was so minded.

  ‘You know this isn’t a game.’ Now his voice was grave. ‘My ship, Cass.’

  ‘I know,’ I agreed. I felt a brief spasm of contrition. I was interfering with his investigation, losing him the element of surprise by meddling, making it harder for him to do his job. ‘I should have thought it through.’ I took a deep breath. ‘I’m sorry if I’ve made your life harder by warning them. But they had a good shot at blowing us up, and nearly poisoned Cat. I thought he was dead. And Maman enquiring about a piano, what could be more innocent?’

  ‘It obviously wasn’t, if you’ve stirred a hornet’s nest up about your ears.’

  ‘You’d lost the element of surprise anyway,’ I pointed out. ‘Ironic, isn’t it? I wouldn’t have connected the skeleton with Ivor if – I presume – the person who killed him hadn’t tried to kill me with my own gas.’

  ‘The engineer hoist with his own petard. Go on, then. Your mother saw Mr Georgeson senior about a piano.’

  I began laughing. ‘You should have seen her. She treated the receptionist as if she was invisible. But in came Miss Georgeson, the nastiest teacher I ever had. We hated each other with a passion right through my primary 6. I dived backstage before she could see me, but of course she’d have known Maman straight away, from parents’ nights.’

  ‘Primary 6 was twenty years ago.’

  I shook my head. ‘You don’t forget Maman. Anyway, I met her – Miss Georgeson – again in Da Street, and she stopped me. She was being sarcastic, and I suddenly thought she’d be ages with Ivor Hughson, so I tried the name on her.’

  ‘How did she react?’

  ‘She’d been keen on him at school. You could hear it in her voice when she said his name. She said what a charmer he was.’

  ‘Was?’

  ‘Yes, she used the past tense, but it could have been for the schooldays, rather than Ivor. Me mentioning him was a shock, that was clear. She went sheet-white, then she looked behind me at an imaginary clock, muttered something about the time, and rushed off.’

  ‘To phone her brother, Ivor’s former partner; and he phoned Julie Hughson.’ He was silent for a moment. ‘Write me down an account of your meeting with each of them, as detailed as you can remember, and as soon as you can. Tonight, tomorrow morning. Re-live it, every look, every gesture. Will you?’

  ‘No problem. Gavin …’ I was still tentative about using his name. ‘If the word is out that Ivor’s being linked with the skeleton, should I be safe now?’

  ‘That depends what sort of a hornet’s nest you stirred up this morning. If the murderer’s only worry was that you were the link between the skeleton down here and Ivor’s disappearance up there, well, they’re linked now. But if the Georgeson clan are involved, well …’ He was teasing me now. �
�… there’s a mild possibility, don’t you think, that they’ll think you want to play detective?’

  Playing the girl detective … ‘In which case they might prefer to warn me off?’

  ‘What did you see backstage?’

  ‘A barrel. You spoke about casks of whisky, but it’s barrels it’s matured in, isn’t it?’

  ‘It would be. Where did you see this barrel?’

  ‘In a dusty corner, labelled ‘Lucky Dip’, and with cut-out cartoon figures in front of it. The Lerwick Gala stuff. Oh, and the oldest son’s harness and armour, from his re-enactment days. It was pretty well hidden.’

  ‘Re-enactment? You mean horse harness?’

  ‘Yes. Miss Georgeson told us all about it, and we had one of those poster-size photos of him as our classroom pin-up. You know, knights in armour stuff. He came and gave us a display. He was jolly good.’

  ‘Interesting,’ Gavin said, and went silent again.

  ‘And the barrel was behind this,’ I said, when it was obvious he wasn’t going to share his thoughts with me, ‘and covered with far more dust than would be natural since last summer’s Gala. Do you think that Ivor Hughson and John Georgeson might have conspired together to steal the whisky?’ I could see Ivor doing that; it was a victimless crime, for nobody counts insurance companies, and a fun, breaking into a locked warehouse to swap two barrels. ‘He’d have seen it as a lark.’