None but the Dead Read Free

on cue, a sudden squall hit the side of the jeep.
    ‘You won’t be flying back,’ Derek offered.
    The schoolhouse looked like the one Erling had spent his primary-school days in. L-shaped, the backbone of it had housed the big classroom where they’d all sat at desks
according to age. A second room had served as a dining room and occasional second classroom where the bigger folk went for more grown-up lessons such as maths.
    How Erling had envied the older pupils that privilege. He remembered going into the room after such a lesson and finding strange shapes on the blackboard, which seemed to symbolize a world he
could not yet access. A world the younger Erling had wished to join as soon as possible.
    Eventually he had, and the magic of the world of mathematics had lasted through secondary school in Kirkwall. Even as far as university. That the complexity of life might be depicted
symbolically had fascinated him. One thing though had spoiled that concept.
    Maths could describe the physical world, but it couldn’t describe a human thought. There was no formula for that. Nor a formula to work out why people made the decisions they did. So he
hadn’t become a maths teacher after all, but a police officer. Quite why, he wasn’t sure, although he was certain that he had made the right decision. Both in his profession and the
fact that he had chosen to return to his native Orkney to live and work.
    His mobile rang as they approached the schoolhouse. Erling glanced at the screen and was pleased to find Rory’s name.
    ‘Can you talk?’
    ‘Not really,’ Erling admitted.
    ‘I’ll be back tonight. Will you be there?’
    ‘If I get back from Sanday.’
    ‘I’ll cook us something.’
    ‘Good,’ Erling said and hung up as Derek swung the jeep in between the old-style school gates and drew up at what had obviously been the main entrance. As Erling climbed out, a
figure appeared in the doorway. Tall, sandy-haired, the man looked to be in his forties.
    Erling introduced himself. The handclasp was firm and the man kept eye contact.
    ‘Thank you for coming out, Inspector.’
    ‘Is Hugh still here?’
    ‘He had to go to another job. He says to give him a ring if you want him back.’ He gestured that they should enter. ‘It’s quicker if we go through the house.’
    Erling followed him inside.
    The entrance fed on to a narrow hall. Mike immediately turned left and they were into the big room that Erling remembered from his own schooldays. High rafters, wooden wainscotting, big windows
to let in the light. No school desks here, but a comfortable living space and heat radiating from a stove on one wall.
    In his classroom there had also been a stove, fed by coal by the pupils. Everyone wanted a seat next to the heat, especially in the dark days of winter. It was worth working hard and getting
good marks just to be awarded a desk next to it.
    Mike led them out through a door at the rear area of the big room, which also housed his kitchen. Functional, organized, the man had, Erling thought, made a really good job of the conversion.
The door open now, Mike ushered them outside, his expression worried by what lay before them.
    Erling surveyed the scene.
    This, he decided, had definitely been the playground, although the field beyond the fence had probably been used too. In Erling’s schooldays on the Orkney mainland, the pupils hadn’t
been permitted to go beyond the perimeter fence. Despite the prospect of punishment, they’d all disobeyed. The fields and, in his case, a neighbouring shoreline were a much more enticing
prospect than the confined tarred surface. The secret was always to be back before the bell rang for the end of break.
    The tar here was pitted, weeds pushing up through cracks, the surface gradually attempting to return to soil. Several feet from the back door was a mound and what Erling assumed was the hole
covered by a tarpaulin, weighted down by four stones. Mike stayed by the door, his