Page 9 of Deep Waters

Christian smiled appreciatively. “You’re very kind. Thanks for the offer, but I don’t know what time I’ll be finished here. The police still need a statement from me.”

“You can come up any time…however late.”

“I’m grateful, but I don’t feel like I’ll be much company. When I’m done here, I intend to down so much whisky that I’ll sleep soundly through to morning. I’ll be fine at the hotel.”

“Okay, I won’t push it. But if you change your mind, call me, whatever time it is. I’ll be there. And I have a good supply of quality whisky, too.”

“Noted. You’re a good friend.”

“You’re still coming to dinner tomorrow night, though. No excuses. We’re all looking forward to it.”

“I am, too. Nothing will keep me away from that.”

Before he could get teary-eyed again, Harry came out of the crew room. The poor guy looked even more tired than when he’d seen him last. Christian couldn’t remember ever seeing a face so sad. “They’re ready for you,” he said.

“Okay.” Christian patted Dominic’s arm. “See you tomorrow.”

“Don’t be late,” Dominic said, returning the pat before walking away.

“How was it?” Christian asked Harry.

The younger man’s shoulders sagged. “I’ve given them the facts. All they want is your side of the story.”

“You look done in. Are you going now?”

His mouth widened into a weary smile. “I’ll wait until you’re finished.”

“You don’t have to. I’ll be fine. You should get some rest. I’ll go back to my hotel after this.”

Harry fixed him with his soulful eyes. “I want to see this through. You were my responsibility today. I owe you. I’ll wait until you’re done.”

Christian was about to argue otherwise but stopped himself. Although Dominic had invited him to spend the night with his family, Harry and Tom were the only people who really understood what they had been through. Maybe they needed to be together to make sense of it.

“Okay. Thanks. I’ll buy you a drink when we’re finished. I think we’ll need it.”

Chapter Four

Harry waited outside. The crowd of onlookers had just about dispersed, though Stew Wallace wanted to know all the gory details. Stew was a fisherman from the same generation as Harry’s dad, and Harry had known him all his life. Not much went on in the community that Stew didn’t know about, and if he didn’t, he made it a priority to find out. Harry had never been keen on the man. Growing up, he’d found him an overbearing bore. Little had changed. His dad had always said Stew was like an old hen, pecking around other people’s business. The fact he’d also displayed misogynistic and racists traits had done little to endear him.

“So, you spotted him about a mile off North Point, eh?” Stew edged into Harry’s personal space.

Harry couldn’t decide what smelled worse, the coffee and onion on Stew’s breath or the stale, damp stink coming off his ancient flat cap. He turned his head away, inhaling the vigorous sea air.

“Not as far as that,” he answered, “but there about.”

Stew nodded gleefully, scrunching up his weathered face. He knew this already. He’d spent the last hour flitting from one member of the lifeboat crew to another, gathering details. By the morning, these titbits would be embellished, exaggerated and passed on as facts.

“So, what was he like when you pulled him aboard? Guts hanging out, were they? I heard he was filleted like a fish.”

“For fuck’s sake, Stew, give it rest. That lad has a family who’ll be devastated right now. They can do without this bullshit. Show a bit of respect.”

Stew smarted. He widened his eyes in a comical fashion. “Keep your knickers on. He was stabbed, wasn’t he? He’s dead now, isn’t he? Where’s the bullshit in that? Folks want to know what happened. It’s only natural.”

“Then stick to the facts. Stop making stuff up. It’s your sick imagination talking. It’s not the truth.”

Stew sniffed, then hawked and spat a huge gob of phlegm onto the ground. He bristled his shoulders indignantly. “Still, it doesn’t surprise me—being him, I mean. It was only a matter of time before one of these Pols got it. A lot of folk are sick of them. There’s just too many of them about these days. I’m surprised someone hasn’t done something about them before now.”

“Oh, just shut up, will you? I don’t want to hear crap like that.” Harry had been exposed to Stew’s ignorant racism for as long as he could remember. Even when Harry had been a kid, Stew had had no hesitation venting his bigotry in front of him. He didn’t want to listen to one more word and turned back into the lifeboat station.

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