‘We’ll go through them when we’ve finished here,’ Perez said. ‘It would be a start, wouldn’t it? Just having a list of the people who had the opportunity to be at both scenes.’

  As they reached Maeshowe, the sky was lightening, a pale grey line shot with streaks of pink over the eastern horizon. Willow and Perez stayed outside the burial chamber. They had no reason to go in to contaminate the scene further, and there was little enough space for Dr Grieve to work. Willow was curious though and crouched to look through the low, tunnel-like entrance to see inside. Grieve was still setting up and out of her line of sight, so she could see straight through to the back of the domed space. The place was brightly lit by the electric lights installed by Heritage Scotland. George Riley’s body was there, just as Perez had described, forced into his own burial chamber. He seemed to be staring straight out at her.

  ‘Why do that?’ She was speaking to herself now, rather than Perez. ‘He must have been killed in the main body of the place. Why take the time to put him in the smaller chamber? It wasn’t as if the body was properly hidden from view. It wouldn’t stop him being identified. It almost suggests a kind of revulsion. A need to dispose of the body with some violence, to push it away.’ She straightened and shook her head, not coming up with any real answer to the question. ‘It’s almost personal.’

  ‘Let’s go,’ Perez said. ‘We’re not helping by being here. You didn’t have any breakfast and you should be eating for two.’

  Perez agreed to come back to the house with her – the team knew where he’d be and that they could contact him. Willow scrambled eggs and broke her caffeine rule to drink the coffee Perez had made as soon as they’d got home. They sat at the kitchen table and went through Phil Bain’s list of people who were away from Westray on the day of Riley’s death.

  ‘Vaila and the boys are here on the mainland,’ she said. ‘They’re staying until after the Ba’ on Christmas Day. I didn’t see them at the cathedral and Vaila came out with a car. She could easily have met up with George before you turned up.’ She put down her fork. ‘I’m assuming he was killed not long before you got to the place. We only have Miles’s word that he had lunch in town, or even that he went into school that morning. He could have met his killer much earlier.’

  Perez shook his head. ‘I don’t think so. It was so cold yesterday that my windscreen iced up when I left the car for an hour outside Riley’s house to inform his partner of the death. I noticed that the windscreen on George’s car was quite clear when I saw it at the mill. It was earlier in the day, but the temperature was already dropping. If he’d been there very much sooner, it would have frozen.’

  ‘Did you see anyone then? Anyone driving away from the mill when you arrived?’

  He shook his head. ‘Certainly not from the car park. But I was quite preoccupied, wondering what George might have to tell me. And you know how busy that road can get, even at this time of the year.’

  ‘You would have noticed if someone was on foot though. They could have parked at some distance from Maeshowe. It wouldn’t have been too far to walk even from the public space down at the Stones of Stenness.’ Willow tried not to sound impatient.

  ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I would have noticed that.’ She saw again how deflated he was and reached out to touch his hand.

  ‘All three of the Pierowall Hotel residents were in Kirkwall. Godfrey Lansdown was in the cathedral, but if he came out with his car, he might just have had time to kill George at Maeshowe and be back for the service. He’s an elderly man though and a gentle soul. I’m not sure he’d have the strength for those attacks. Besides, I can’t see that he’d have any motive for either murder.’

  ‘Wouldn’t he only need a motive for killing Archie?’ Perez was writing notes on a large sheet of plain paper. That was always his way of ordering his thoughts. ‘My assumption is that George saw something while he was out that night on Westray, and he was killed to stop him talking to me.’

  ‘If George was suspicious of any individual, I don’t think he’d arrange a meeting with them, would he? And the killer can’t have bumped into him in Maeshowe by chance.’ Willow paused. ‘But you’re right. It’s too much of a coincidence to assume that the murders aren’t connected. The fact that the story stones were used in both cases means we’re only looking at one killer.’

  Perez stood to refill his mug with coffee. ‘Who else did you see in Kirkwall yesterday?’

  ‘The Johnsons, the professor and his wife. They claimed to have been at the service, but I didn’t see them inside the building, just when we got outside. That doesn’t mean anything. It was packed with people. I couldn’t see everyone. Besides, I think they might have claimed to be in the cathedral just to show they’ve really become part of the island community. Not common-or-garden tourists.’

  ‘That’s a bit harsh!’

  ‘Maybe.’ Willow tried to put her mistrust of the couple into words. ‘They seem so respectable and above suspicion, but they’ve been involved with Westray and the story stones since they were students. The man’s professional reputation is founded on his work on them. He has a lot to lose. I’ve been thinking about how Archie might have threatened that. For example, if he’d worked out that Tony Johnson’s research was unreliable, or that he was guilty of plagiarism, that might be a motive.’

  She looked across the table at Perez and saw that he was taking the theory seriously.

  ‘It would matter to Archie,’ Perez said, ‘if it seemed that Westray’s famous archaeology was based on a lie. The island’s reputation was important to him. And Rosalie told us that he was worried before he died. She thought it had something to do with the place, the community. I’ll talk to Paul Rutherford again. He might have picked up some rumours in academic circles, that Johnson’s work wasn’t entirely safe.’

  ‘It’s possible that George came across something that didn’t quite hang together when he was researching his kids’ book. He read history at Cambridge. He’d have the background knowledge.’

  ‘It’s not much, but at least it gives us a thread of a motive that works for both murders.’ Perez sounded a little brighter.

  ‘Rosalie was in Kirkwall yesterday too.’ Willow remembered the brightly coloured coat worn by the woman. The artist certainly hadn’t been trying to make herself look inconspicuous. ‘I didn’t speak to her, but I saw her wander past when James and I were going into the cathedral.’

  Perez added another name to his list.

  ‘And Bill MacBride came out on the ferry with me the day before. He said he needed to escape Westray for a while, that the island was driving him crazy. I saw him when I came out of the cathedral too.’

  ‘Phil was right,’ Perez said. ‘It seems that most of our suspects were on Orkney mainland yesterday.’

  His phone rang. ‘Phil!’ He looked across at Willow and smiled at the coincidence of the DC calling just as they were speaking of him. ‘What have you got for us? Where are all our Westray residents now?’

  Willow watched him take another sheet of paper and start scribbling on it. She’d never been able to read his writing, certainly not when it was upside down, and had to wait until the call ended to find out what was going on.

  ‘He’s spoken to the purser,’ Perez said. ‘Vaila and the boys are still in Kirkwall, as we knew they would be. Everyone else on our list took the last boat home last night.’

  ‘I’ll pack a bag.’ Of course, Perez would want to come with her, but again Willow knew that his involvement would cloud any trial that followed. They would be handing a gift to the defence. ‘There’s a plane in an hour. If you give me a lift to the airport, I should be able to make it, and I’ll get Phil to meet me at the airstrip. I might even get home on the last ferry tonight.’

  ‘I’ll talk to Rutherford again and check out Tony Johnson’s research. Find out if there have ever been any suspicions that he’s not quite the reputable academic that he seems.’

  ‘Great. Yeah, that makes perfect sense.’

  Willow got the last seat on the plane – it only held eight passengers and she had to sit next to the pilot. She was a neighbour of theirs, and her daughter was at nursery with James. She didn’t need to ask why Willow was going in to the island. She just grinned a welcome and talked through the safety procedure over a crackly mic. Willow didn’t recognize anyone else, but gathered as they boarded that the elderly couple were from Westray and heading home to visit family for Christmas and the others were a group who wanted to do the shortest scheduled flight in Europe. The plane would fly on from Westray to Papa Westray. She and Perez had done it once, just for the craic. As soon as the plane took off, it had come into land. It had been something of an anticlimax.

  It was another cold and sunny day. The weather was forecast to be like this almost until Christmas. Orcadians and Shetlanders were smug, watching the chaos the freezing fog and the snow were causing further south. The flight was as smooth as any Willow could remember and she had a magnificent view of the islands scattered beneath them, a living map of water and land. She could hear the tourists behind her gasping at the beauty and felt again the privilege of living in this place.

  Phil was waiting for her at the airstrip. ‘Where do you want to start?’

  She thought about that. ‘Let’s leave the hotel residents until later. We’re not far from Rosalie. We’ll go there first, shall we?’

  They found Rosalie at work. It took her a while to come down from her studio on the first floor.

  ‘I thought you’d be here. I heard about George Riley. I didn’t really know him, but everyone said he was a lovely man and a brilliant teacher.’ She looked out at Willow. ‘What’s going on, Inspector? Everyone’s scared. We thought this was a safe place where the kids could play out and we didn’t have to lock our doors or our cars. And now people are hiding away indoors. The snake’s slithered its way into our paradise. I didn’t even swim this morning. My imagination was running wild.’

  ‘We’re talking to everyone from Westray who was on the mainland yesterday.’

  ‘Of course. You have to do that. I saw you with your little boy outside the cathedral. Do you want to come upstairs? I’ve had the heating on in the studio because I’ll be there all day.’

  It was a large, light room with windows looking out across the bay where she did her ritual swim. Under the windows a large trestle table held scraps of sea glass and coils of silver wire. ‘I just need to put the lid back on this glue.’

  There was a battered sofa against the opposite wall and Willow lowered herself onto that. Phil took a bentwood chair and Rosalie leaned against the table.

  ‘What were you doing in Kirkwall?’ Willow asked. ‘I didn’t see you at the carol service.’

  Rosalie shook her head. ‘I was there on business. The craft shop that takes my work had run out of my jewellery. I know there are only a few days until Christmas, but I didn’t want to miss out on sales, so I brought in a load more stuff for them.’

  That made sense. ‘I’ll need the name of the owner. You understand that we’ll have to check.’

  ‘Of course.’ Despite her comment about the snake and paradise, Rosalie seemed entirely at ease now. These questions weren’t shaking her.

  ‘Did you spend the whole time in Kirkwall? We can see from the passenger list that you had your car with you. Why would you do that if you only intended to stay in town?’

  ‘I had boxes of merchandise. I’d have to drive down to the pier at Rapness anyway, so it made sense to take the car. I booked it in a while ago.’

  ‘Of course. But did you head anywhere else? Take time to do a bit of sightseeing while you were out on the mainland?’

  There was a brief hesitation before Rosalie answered. ‘I went to Stromness, to the gallery there, to see if they would take any of my stuff.’

  ‘The main road from Kirkwall to Stromness would take you through Stenness and past the footpath to Maeshowe. Did you stop at all? You’re into the islands’ archaeology. You might have been tempted on a clear day on the solstice.’

  There was a flash of anger. ‘Are you accusing me of killing a schoolteacher I barely knew?’

  ‘No.’ Willow kept her voice calm. ‘But if you did stop that afternoon, you could be an important witness. You might have seen somebody you knew or a car that you recognized.’

  Rosalie shook her head. ‘I was tempted to stop. But I wasn’t sure what time the gallery would close.’

  ‘Did you manage to sell any of your goods?’

  ‘No. When I got there, the manager had already left and the lad at the desk didn’t have the responsibility to make a decision. I left a few samples. You can check. It was my fault – I was starving when I arrived in Stromness and went for lunch in the cafe in the street before going to the gallery. But it felt like a wasted afternoon. I’d just arrived back in Kirkwall when you saw me outside the cathedral. I was looking for somewhere I wouldn’t feel awkward on my own to have a glass of wine.’

  Chapter Nineteen

  PEREZ HAD PHONED LUCY MARTINDALE, GEORGE’S head teacher, the evening before and had arranged to meet her in Kirkwall Grammar School that morning. She’d been stunned by the news of Riley’s death.

  Perez had heard the catch in her voice on the phone and imagined silent tears. When he’d talked to her in her home, she’d been cool, matter-of-fact. Archie’s death hadn’t moved her. She might not have known George for long, but it seemed he’d made a strong impression on her.

  ‘I can hardly believe it. I’ve never met anyone so full of life.’ Perez was thinking that he’d had exactly the same impression of Archie. Martindale was still speaking. ‘Such a huge personality. Of course, I’ll need to let the parents and students know. I’ll be in school all morning, Inspector, making arrangements. Some of our students might want to come later to be with their friends, to mourn together. And a skeleton office staff will be in. They’ll look out for you in reception.’ She was still efficient despite the emotion.

  Since meeting Martindale, Perez had put out feelers, asking what people had made of the new head. The response had been mixed. There were grumbles about a new crackdown on behaviour, rules rigidly upheld. This isn’t an inner city. She could be a peedie bit more flexible. Other parents liked the change. The old head teacher had been a soft touch, they said, and academic standards had been slipping. The kids had been allowed to get away with anything.

  The building was relatively new, a comprehensive school, despite the name and the history – it had been going since the twelfth century. Most of the island children would go there, at least to finish their education. Cassie had settled in well, and Perez supposed that James would go there too when he was old enough.

  There was, as Martindale had said, a woman in reception and she was expecting him.

  ‘I’ll just phone the head to let her know that you’re here.’ Then, as if she couldn’t help herself: ‘I can’t believe that George won’t be coming back after Christmas. We’ll all miss him so much.’

  Lucy Martindale’s office was large and airy, immaculately tidy as he’d imagined it would be. She sat behind her large, pale wood desk and he felt like one of her students, called in to be questioned about some misdemeanour.

  ‘Is it true that he was murdered? Like the Stout boys’ father? I find that almost impossible to believe. I came here from an inner-city school. Even there, the death of a teacher seemed unimaginable. But here . . .’ Her voice tailed off.

  ‘Tell me about George.’ Details of his work and movements, Perez thought, could come later. He wanted her impression of the man. This woman would be clear-eyed about anyone working with her.

  ‘We didn’t always get on, but – and I never told him this – I think he was one of the best teachers I’ve ever worked with.’

  ‘Why didn’t you get on?’

  She paused for a moment and when she spoke, she chose her words carefully. ‘The former head teacher was here for years. I have a feeling that for a while he’d been coasting towards retirement. Exam results weren’t as good as they could have been. We were letting down some of our brightest students. I was brought in to make changes. When you’re new to a school, or even to a class, I’ve always thought it important to go in tough. It’s possible to relax later, but it’s almost impossible to start off as if the rules don’t matter and then try to tighten up.’ She looked up at him. ‘I’m guessing that’s the same in any institution.’

  Perez thought about that. Willow wasn’t exactly his boss now, but she was his superior. She’d never been one for sticking to protocol, even at the start. They were a small team though and she understood every different personality. It would be much harder trying to treat nine hundred pupils and nearly a hundred staff members as individuals.

  ‘Perhaps,’ he conceded. ‘And George didn’t understand your approach?’

  She gave the mischievous smile that had attracted him in her home. ‘He understood it perfectly well in theory, but then he was always asking me to make exceptions. He came to me with kids he felt should be treated more leniently, cases where he thought we should bend the rules. I explained that we couldn’t work like that. Not at first.’

  ‘Yet you still thought he was a good teacher.’

  She nodded. ‘A great teacher. Sometimes his approach was unorthodox, but he had a charisma that hooked the students in. Actually, I never saw any problem with discipline in his lessons, but he cared about every one of them. Recognized them as individuals. That’s why he came to me to battle on their behalf.’

  ‘Were there other ways that his approach was unorthodox?’

  ‘He despised the box-ticking that has become so much a part of education. He was, perhaps, a little lax when it came to risk assessment.’ She looked up and smiled again. ‘He would have taken his history group to one of the out-isles to look at the archaeology and had them camping out in a bothy, without doing any safety checks or completing parental consent forms, if I’d let him, so we didn’t always see eye to eye. But he understood the students. He listened to them. I started at the school in September and at half-term I created a new post for him – head of pastoral care. I could tell that he’d be perfect in the role.’