Page 36 of Deep Waters

He’d gone from the hotel to the Seagull Café for a coffee and a late breakfast. He’d been starving by then. Harry had spent the entire night with him. When Harry had left that morning, the temptation to ask him to stay had been massive. Christian could easily have cancelled all his plans for the day and spent them in bed, fucking and ordering room service, but something made him hold back.

Things had moved so fast for the two of them, and it would do them good to spend a little time apart. They’d made a date for tomorrow night, once Harry returned from his fishing charter. That would have to do for now. Christian would only be here for another week. Who knew what would happen after that? It was best that they had some time apart from each other to process everything that had occurred.

For the rest of the day, he was determined to focus on work.

In the café, he’d eavesdropped on a couple of conversations before speaking to a middle-aged couple who seemed to know the Jasinski family. Keeping it casual, he’d drawn information out of them. Niko had had a full-time job at a food processing factory on an estate outside of town, but since he’d turned eighteen, he’d been earning extra cash as a bartender at the workingmen’s club. Christian remembered Dominic and Jacob had also mentioned something about that. If the OnlyFans rumours were true, when had he found time to make his videos?

Christian drained the pint of lager he’d been drinking and approached the bar for another. The bartender put down his paper and enquired, “Same again?”

“Please,” Christian said.

“Are you staying nearby?” the bartender asked, selecting a fresh glass from an upper shelf. His tone was friendly, sounding like he was genuinely interested.

“Is it that obvious I’m a tourist?”

The man chuckled. “Pretty much. Even though you’ve arrived at the arse end of the season. What made you choose Nyemouth?”

“I’m a friend of Dominic Melton. He recommended the place.”

“And you listened to him?” the man laughed. “It’s not my idea of a holiday destination. You should have gone to Benidorm or the Canary Islands at this time of year. I know I would.”

“I’m not too keen on the hot temperatures there. This climate suits me fine.”

The man looked unconvinced. “If you say so. In another month, it’ll be Baltic around here. The winter sun becomes very tempting around that time.” He set the drink on the counter in front of him. As Christian handed him a five-pound note, he saw the man examine him more closely. “You’re not the fella who was on the boat with Harry Renner the other night, are you? When they found young Niko.”

“I am,” Christian said carefully. “I was the one who spotted him.”

The man groaned. “What an awful business.” He handed the note back to Christian. “Keep your money, son. This is on the house after all you’ve been through.”

Christian feigned ignorance. “You knew him?”

The man nodded sadly. “He worked here on and off. He started collecting the empties for me before I moved him behind the bar. He was a lovely lad—a real grafter, you know, not like some of the other work-shy bastards around here. Even when he got another job, he would still help me out on the weekends. I could always rely on Niko when I was in a tight spot.”

“It sounds like he had a strong work ethic.”

“He certainly did. And that’s a rare thing in the young ’uns these days. Believe me, I know. I’ve hired and fired enough of the useless buggers.”

Christian sipped the beer and pressed on. He had to be careful dealing with people like this. As soon as they realised that they were talking to a journalist, they could clam up. Not that he was officially acting in a journalistic capacity here. “Do you have any theories about who might have done this?”

The man frowned. “There are enough people about who don’t think much of outsiders, even when the family has been here for years, like Niko’s folks have. There are some in Nyemouth whose attitudes haven’t moved on since the nineteen-fucking-fifties. Excuse my French, but I can’t imagine any of them doing more than running their big mouths off. What happened to Niko was just too…nasty.”

“Hey,” said Christian, “I didn’t get your name.”

“Jacky. I’ve been the steward here for twenty-seven years.”

“Christian. It’s nice to meet you, and thanks for the drink.”

“It’s my pleasure.”

Christian took another sip. “So Niko never had any trouble with anyone here in the club?”

Jacky shook his head. “No more than anyone. I won’t put up with any of that racist crap. If I hear one wrong word from someone, they are barred. Of course, there are always the drunk idiots who don’t know when they’ve had enough, but Niko had a good way with those people. He could usually get them off the premises before they caused any trouble. He was a lot more tactful about it than I ever am. I sling them out by force if I have to.” He shook his head sadly. “Christ. He was a lovely kid. I’m going to miss him.”

Christian knew when to quit. There was no point in pushing Jacky for further information. He didn’t know any more about Niko’s death than the other people he’d spoken to. Whatever he said would be speculation and nothing more. He thanked him again for the drink and returned to his seat.

Niko Jasinski was an enigma. Apart from the town racists who hated his Polish heritage, no one had a bad word to say about the boy. He was popular and respected, and yet someone had driven a knife into him and thrown him into the stormy sea. Christian would have to dig deeper if he was going to make headway on his story.

There must be more to Niko that these people were letting on.

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