Page 15 of Deep Waters

Dominic chuckled. “I’m probably making it sound far worse than it is.”

“You weren’t kidding when you said it would work well for my book.”

“Ah, is that where your mind is headed? You’re going to write about this?”

“Not as such, not the death of these young men. That’s too distasteful. But I think I’ve found the perfect backdrop for whatever kind of story I decide to tell.”

Jacob came around the corner carrying two steaming mugs. Christian and Dominic shuffled along the bench to make room for him.

“I was just telling Christian about the boy who was killed last night. Did you say his name was Ike?” Dominic asked, accepting a mug from Jacob.

“Ike Meeker,” the old man said, sitting down. “He’s a supervisor up at Asda. He used to wait on tables at The Lobster Pot when he was younger.”

“I don’t think I know him.”

Christian pulled out his phone and brought up Facebook. It did not surprise him to find no matches for an Ike Meeker in Nyemouth. Facebook was more likely an app for his mother’s generation. He tried a few other searches before finding a LinkedIn match with a photograph of a cheerful young Black man. “Is this him?” he asked, passing the phone to Jacob.

Jacob peered at the picture. “Yes. Poor kid. That’s him.”

Dominic looked at the screen. “Oh, right. Yes, I have seen him around. I remember him from the restaurant. He was very friendly.”

“Always,” Jacob said. “He was a lovely kid. God, what an awful world. Why would anyone want to harm a boy like that?”

As Christian studied the smiling face again, the most obvious connection between the two men came to mind. “Last night, Harry told me that Niko and other people from the Polish community have experienced prejudice here in Nyemouth. It’s just a theory, but with Ike being Black and Niko Polish, you don’t think these could be hate crimes, do you?”

Dominic and Jacob exchanged glances, giving it some thought before shaking their heads.

“To stab them for that? I wouldn’t have thought so,” Dominic said. “There are a lot of arseholes around who have plenty to say on racial issues, but they’re all mouth. If anyone turned around and answered them back, they’d be just as likely to run away.”

“I agree,” Jacob said. “Of course, we don’t know what anyone is capable of, but the idiots Dominic is talking about are more likely to share racist content online and spout off to their stupid mates than carry out anything. Not to downplay that, but a stabbing is such a violent thing. It requires close contact and determination. I expect the person or people who did this will have a more personal motive than ingrained bigotry.”

Christian wasn’t so certain. In the last twenty-four hours, Nyemouth had proved to be a beautiful place with a heart of darkness.What secrets lurk beneath the charming veneer?he wondered. Dominic and Jacob lived here. Maybe their perception was misleading. They looked at the town through rose-tinted lenses because they loved it so much. Maybe it would take an outsider to expose the grubby undercurrents that ran through it.

Christian smiled to himself.

He was just the man to do it.

Chapter Six

With the aid of his dad and Tom, Harry had thoroughly scrubbed and cleaned the deck ofThe North Starby late morning. Their work had been interrupted several times by curious passers-by and nosy fishermen, but at last they were done. Harry was used to cleaning the boat of fish blood after a bumper day at sea, but the blood of another man was different—an experience he hoped he would never have to repeat. Even Tom had been quiet, going about the task in morose silence, completely at odds with his usual, gregarious self.

Finally, Harry wound up the hose.

“Thanks for your help,” he said. “I wasn’t looking forward to doing this. I would hate to have done it alone.”

His dad dried his hands on the front of his jeans. “We wouldn’t have let you, anyway.”

“Yeah,” said Tom. “What kind of family do you think we are? We would never have left you on your own.”

A sudden surge of emotion made Harry realise just how lucky he was to have such a great family. “Well, after all you’ve done, lunch is on me. What would you like? Anything at all. No limits.”

“I wouldn’t say no to a sandwich from the Seagull if you’re feeling that generous,” his dad said.

“I meant a proper sit-down lunch, not just a sandwich.”

Both men shook their heads.

“We stink,” Tom said. “And I can’t be bothered to go home to wash and change. I’m with your dad. A sandwich will do, and a big caramel latte, if you’re feeling extra generous.”

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