Page 58 of Deep Waters

He checked his phone again. Still no answer to his texts.Shit. With no other options, he dialled Harry’s number. After several rings, it went to voicemail.

Antoni’s heart was in his throat when he spoke. “Hi, it’s me. I need to speak to you quite urgently. I need to talk to you before anyone else. It’s about Tom. There’s something you should know.”

Chapter Twenty

Harry bowed his head as he battled directly into the wind blowing down Pier Street. It was currently raging at around forty miles per hour, with gusts of more than fifty. If the forecast were correct, they would see speeds of ninety to a hundred this evening. Harry intended to be warm and cosy indoors by then, hopefully with Christian.

He wouldn’t be out now if he hadn’t received the mysterious message from Antoni. He had intended to stay with his parents until later afternoon before making his way to Quay House to meet Christian. Antoni hadn’t answered when he had returned the call.What the hell did it mean?Antoni and Tom knew each other through him, but they had never been more than casual acquaintances. Though they had been together a few years, Harry hadn’t made a big thing of introducing Antoni to his family. He had always kept his personal life very separate.

Antoni might have exchanged words with Tom if they’d run into him in one of the pubs or maybe in the Seagull, but Harry hadn’t been aware of anything more meaningful than that between them. He couldn’t remember either of them speaking to him about the other.

The Northumberland Gallery closed at four on Sundays. It had gone half-three, so if Antoni wouldn’t answer his phone, Harry figured it was as good a place as any to speak to him.

It was a relief to step out of the bracing wind into the entrance. The gallery was really just two rooms. The back area was where the brothers displayed their art—Roger’s painting and Antoni’s photographs—while out front they had a small shop where they sold cheaper prints and reproductions, together with the usual gift shop fare of notebooks, pencils, badges and postcards.

Roger was at the counter when he went inside.

“Harry,” he said, looking up, surprised. Roger immediately came around to the front with open arms. His embrace was firm and welcome. “I’m so sorry about Tom. How are you doing?”

“Thank you. Okay, I guess. I’m not really sure, to be honest. I don’t think it has sunk in.”

Roger stepped back. There was genuine concern on his face. “That’s only natural. I don’t think anyone has got to grips with what’s gone on this week. It’s been so crazy. I only knew Tom a little. I spoke to him a few times in the club. He was always there when there was a Newcastle match on. He loved his football.”

Emotions surged once again. Whenever he spoke to someone new about Tom, his feelings threatened to overwhelm him. Harry swallowed the knot in his throat. “Yeah, he did. I didn’t know what he was talking about most of the time, but it didn’t stop him from going on about it.”

“He had the bug. He was a nice man. He will be greatly missed, I’m sure.”

Harry nodded, looking at the floor until the impending tears were under control. “Is Antoni around? He left me a message. Said he wanted to talk.”

“No, he’s out,” Roger said. “He’s gone along to the pier with his camera. He wanted to take pictures of the storm before it gets dark. He gets some crazy ideas at times, though when I looked out earlier, it was very dramatic. He should get some good shots.”

“Ah, okay. I might have a look along that way and see if he’s still there.”

“You can wait here if you like. I’ll make some coffee. It will be a lot more comfortable.”

“Thanks. I appreciate the offer, but I could do with the fresh air. These strong winds might help to clear my head.”

Roger gave an understanding nod. “Well, take care of yourself. And please give my regards to Tom’s wife and his family. I’m deeply sorry for your loss.”

Harry thanked him again and went outside.

Pier Street was empty. At the height of summer, he would have struggled to cross the road for the crowds of tourists streaming in both directions. It was always a little eerie at this time of year, more so in the dark—or maybe it was just him dwelling on morbid thoughts because of Tom.

Harry remembered the warning he’d been given by Christian and the police about taking precautions. It probably wasn’t the best idea to be up here on his own. Then again, did he really believe he was in danger?Probably not. The suggestion that Niko’s killer might be seeking revenge on the people who had tried to rescue him was the stuff of horror films, not reality.

Harry wasn’t taking any unnecessary risks. He would walk as far as the pier. If Antoni was there, then he wouldn’t be alone, anyway. They could come back together. If he wasn’t, then he’d turn around and make his way to Quay House. Besides, it wouldn’t get dark for a couple of more hours yet.

At the end of Pier Street, the road narrowed to a steep footpath. There was no shelter from the wind now as he followed the course upwards, along the base of the cliff, until he reached the bank which led to the pier. The sea was wild, a seething grey mass with waves of twenty to thirty feet crashing against the shore. The sky was battleship grey with more ominous black clouds on the far horizon.

Harry stood for a moment, losing himself in the dramatic spectacle, filling his lungs with air and taking the full force of the wind in his face. He would hate to be out there on his boat right now, but from the safety of land, this was breath-taking. He had always had an appreciation of nature and a respect for it. Most people who made their living at sea were the same. It was madness not to.

The waves battered the lower level of the pier, but they weren’t high enough to reach the top tier. Not yet, but by high tide at five-thirty, he was sure they would.

He scanned the landscape for signs of Antoni and spotted a figure in a red waterproof below.

Harry pulled the zipper of his jacket up to his chin and set off down the bank towards him.

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