Poppy set down her bowl and her spoon and walked out. Jane frowned but didn’t try to stop her.

‘Jimmy Perez wants to see you,’ she said to Dougie. ‘In the hall. Ten o’clock.’

‘I can’t tell him anything.’ He sat down at the table.

‘Can’t you?’ Jane set his breakfast in front of him. ‘I thought Angela always used to confide in you.’ She stood for a moment beside him, as if she wanted to make a point, or perhaps she was waiting for him to answer. But he didn’t. He stuck his knife into the centre of the yolk and watched it spread out across the plate.

Dougie arrived at the hall early. Punctuality was one of his curses, inherited from his mother, who was anxious about everything and particularly about being late. Dougie had laughed at her when he was a boy. ‘What’s going to happen, do you think? Will you get locked up for missing the dentist’s appointment by two minutes?’ But now he understood how she’d felt, had the same sensation of panic when time seemed to pass too quickly or he was delayed and he was scared he might be late. Then it did feel as if the sky would fall in and his whole world would collapse.

Perez was there already. He’d set up a small table in one of the corners, close to the stage. The building smelled of wood polish and disinfectant. Dougie wondered if the hall had been cleaned specially for the occasion, if one of the island women had been in early with dusters and a mop, just to get it ready for Perez.

The detective waved him over. ‘Would you like coffee? I can run to that.’ He seemed more relaxed than he had in the lighthouse the evening before. Dougie nodded. He was always wary when people tried to make friends with him. Only Angela had got under his defences and look where that had led.

Perez pulled out the statement Dougie had written, sitting in the lighthouse common room. Then everyone had been so tense and Dougie had been infected by the mood. A sort of collective guilt, Dougie thought now. As if they’d all been responsible in some way for Angela’s death. We were all scared of her. Fascinated, but terrified at the same time. Because none of us could stand up to her.

‘Tell me about Angela,’ Perez said.

Dougie hadn’t been expecting that. He’d thought there’d be a list of questions, a bit like the script he prepared for the call centre staff.

‘I mean, you must have known her quite well,’ Perez went on. ‘You’ve been coming to the island for a long time.’

‘She was a very good birder.’ It was what came first into Dougie’s head. He realized it was the tribute Angela would have wanted. No, he thought. She would have wanted more than that: brilliant. The best of her generation. He didn’t think he could go that far.

‘But competitive,’ Perez said. ‘Not a team player. Not an easy person to get on with. That’s the impression I have.’

‘She knew how good she was,’ Dougie conceded. ‘She didn’t suffer fools gladly.’

‘Did you like her?’

Dougie thought about that for a moment. Had he liked her? She’d been a kind of obsession, but that wasn’t the same thing. ‘We got on OK.’

Perez leaned forward across the table. ‘You see, in this case motive is important. Any one of you staying in the centre had the opportunity to kill her. You all had access to her knife. It didn’t have to be a premeditated crime. The knife was there in the bird room. But why would anyone do it?’

‘She could wind people up,’ Dougie said. He finished the coffee and carefully set the mug on the table.

‘How do you mean?’

‘She’d prod and poke until she got a response. She enjoyed making people angry. She thought it was a laugh.’

‘And you think she just went too far? She provoked someone to kill her?’

‘It could have happened that way,’ Dougie said. ‘Everyone was tense anyway. Stranded here because of the weather.’

‘Did she ever make you feel like that? Angry.’

‘Nah, I was never worth provoking. Fat Dougie. Too easy a target. She took me under her wing.’ Dougie struggled to explain the relationship he’d had with Angela. ‘You know how sometimes really fit women have an ugly friend. Someone who’s not a threat. Someone to confide in. That’s how Angela was with me. I was the ugly friend.’

‘Even though you only came to the field centre once a year?’

Dougie hesitated. He wasn’t sure how much to tell Perez. He’d decided to stick to answering the questions, not to volunteer any information, but the questions were more wide-ranging and personal than he’d expected. And he thought Jane had guessed how things were between Angela and him. She’d probably tell Perez anyway. ‘We kept in touch,’ he said at last. ‘Email mostly. Sometimes by phone.’

‘Didn’t you resent it?’ Perez asked. ‘The way she used you, I mean.’ When Dougie didn’t answer at once, he added: ‘Or perhaps you didn’t feel used? You didn’t mind being the ugly friend?’

‘I knew I could never be anything else,’ Dougie said. ‘It was better than nothing.’ He paused. He had never thought he’d tell anyone about his feelings for Angela. And in five minutes this strange islander with the dark hair had wheedled information out of him that he’d always kept secret. Dougie thought this was what it must be like to be under hypnosis. Perez said nothing. He waited for Dougie to continue and Dougie felt compelled to speak.

‘I loved it when she phoned me. It was always late at night. I imagined her in the bird room, looking down over the cliffs to the sea. It was exciting. She knew she excited me. Perhaps she only did it when she needed a boost for her ego. I didn’t care, even when she just wanted to talk about her marriage, other men. I was flattered that it was me she’d chosen to talk to.’

‘Were there other men?’

Dougie nodded. He expected other questions, a demand for specifics, but Perez didn’t follow that line of inquiry.

‘What did she say about the marriage?’

‘That Maurice was a sweet man but sometimes he bored her so much that she thought she would die. She wasn’t sure she could stand living with him any more. “And he’s crap in bed.” That was what she said.’ Dougie felt he should apologize for Angela. She wasn’t malicious, not really. Sometimes she said outrageous stuff just to make me laugh. But he had the feeling Perez understood anyway.

‘Do you think she was seriously considering divorce?’ Perez asked.

‘Nah! Maurice was just what she needed: someone to look after the domestics so she could spend all her time birding. He was too convenient to have around. And he was besotted with her. She knew he’d let her get away with anything.’

‘Did you go and see her in the bird room the night she died?’

Dougie was astonished. Was the inspector some sort of magician? Could he read men’s thoughts?

‘Because it’s the sort of thing a friend would do,’ Perez went on. ‘There’d been that scene with Poppy. Angela might have been upset. I thought you might call in to check that she was all right.’

‘I heard her go into the bird room,’ Dougie said. ‘I couldn’t sleep. I’d brought a bottle of whisky to the island with me. I don’t drink much, but other people do.’ And you still feel the need to buy friendship, don’t you, Dougie? ‘I took it down. I offered a drink but she didn’t want one. “Not for me, Dougie. You have one if you like.” I didn’t stay for long. She was working. She made it clear I was disturbing her. If we had any sort of friendship it was always on her terms.’

‘Did you have a drink? Was there a glass on her desk?’

‘Nah, I didn’t bother either. Like I said, I don’t really like it.’

‘Did she tell you what she was working on?’

‘No. We talked about Poppy. Angela said if the wind didn’t change soon, so she could get rid of the teenager from hell, there’d be a murder.’ Dougie looked up at Perez. He didn’t want the Shetlander to think he’d made some sort of crass joke, but Perez still focused on the notes on the paper before him.