Page 17 of Deep Waters

Antoni opened his mouth and seemed to be on the verge of making an excuse before he sighed again. “Yes. Five minutes of peace and quiet sounds good.”

“Good. Come on.”

The café was near full when they arrived. The lunchtime service was well under way. Harry spotted an empty table against the right-side wall and told Antoni to grab it while he went to the counter. He placed the order for sandwiches and drinks to go, together with three slices of delicious looking chocolate cake, and asked for two coffees to drink inside while he waited.

Lizzie, the co-owner, was working the register. “Have a seat. I’ll bring them over in a few minutes.”

Antoni toyed absently with a sachet of sugar when he returned. His mind was clearly elsewhere. He looked a lot older than his mid-thirties. Harry realised how much weight he had lost since they’d split up last December. He’d always had a slim build, but now he was positively skinny. His cheekbones were razor sharp, and the weight loss had deepened the lines around his eyes.

“Did you get much sleep last night?” Harry asked, pulling out a chair to sit opposite him.

He shook his head. “I eventually drifted off sometime after three, but I was awake before six. I just couldn’t seem to shut down the noise and images in my mind.”

“Maybe you should go home from here. A couple of hours on the couch will do you good.”

“We’ll see. I do feel tired now. But I’d rather power through and get a good night’s sleep tonight.”

“Take care of yourself.” Harry’s love for Antoni was entirely fraternal. Though they had been together for three years, there had been very little passion, and they had been more like brothers than lovers for the last two years of the relationship. Something had always prevented them from progressing to the next level, and Harry had resisted all of Antoni’s requests for them to get a place together. “Let me order you something to eat, too.”

“No. I have no appetite at all. I’ll eat later.” Antoni looked at him across the table. “Don’t make a fuss. Please.”

“All right, I won’t,” he said, maintaining an even tone. “How is Roger? Does he know the Jasinski family, too?”

Antoni nodded. “He spent time with them last night. We agreed he would open the gallery today so I could visit them this morning. I should take off after this. He’ll need a break.”

Lizzie appeared with their coffees…two cappuccinos. “Your food will be around ten minutes. I hope that’s okay. We’re short in the kitchen, and we’ve been mad busy so far today.”

Harry smiled. “No rush.” Then when she left, “Do the police have any idea of what happened yet?”

“Not a clue. They’ve been trying to build a picture of what Niko did yesterday—where he went and who he saw, before you found him.” He paused. “His parents, I think they’d like to speak to you. Not today, they’re still too much in shock, but maybe in another day or so, just to hear first-hand what happened.”

“Of course.” Harry understood where they were coming from and why they would want to know, but there was no way he could tell them exactly what had gone down on the boat, their desperate attempts to save Niko’s life and stop him from bleeding out. Families always wanted to know what happened to their loved ones in the last moments of their life. Harry’s experiences in the lifeboat had taught him that the raw, uncensored truth rarely brought much comfort to the bereaved. Quite the opposite. He would choose his words carefully. “I’ll speak to them when they’re ready.”

“They will appreciate it.” Antoni emptied a sachet of brown sugar into his coffee and stirred. “And now there has been a second death, and the police are stretched even thinner. I hope they don’t give up on trying to find out what happened to Niko.”

“They won’t. You know the local police force is small, but they’ll draft in officers from out of the area to help in cases like this. It’s horrific, though. Two knife crimes in one day.”

“I don’t know much about the second attack. Have you heard anything?”

“Only gossip, nothing substantial. You know what people are like here. What they don’t know, they make up. From what I heard around the dock this morning, they’ve been quick to make connections between the victims, whether there is one or not.”

“Typical. Who was he? The second victim?”

“Ike Meeker. He works at Asda.”

Antoni froze, the coffee cup halfway to his lips. “Ike? What? You mean the boy who used to work at The Lobster Pot?”

“I’ve no idea about that. As you well know, The Lobster Pot is a bit fancy and beyond my budget. I just know what people are saying. I haven’t been able to put a face to the name. I’m not sure I even know him.Knewhim,” he corrected.

Antoni pulled out his phone, tapped the screen, and flicked through several menus. Social media, no doubt. After a few moments, he said, “My God, yes. That’s him. Ike. He worked over there for a year, at least.”

He turned the screen towards Harry. The photo showed a stocky Black man in his twenties. He had a cheerful smile and one of those short, precise haircuts a lot of young guys wore. “I don’t think I know him. Like I said, The Lobster Pot is a bit ritzy for me, and I go to Lidl for most of my groceries.” When they had been together, Antoni had often tried to get him to go to the fancy restaurant for special occasions, but Harry was always happier in the pub.

“He’s a nice boy. At least, he seemed to be. I only know him from the restaurant, but he was always friendly and attentive. He didn’t strike me as the type to get in trouble.”

“Maybe he didn’t,” Harry said. “It could be something personal. You don’t think Niko knew him, do you?”

Antoni put the phone down. “I have no idea. There’s possibly a six- or seven-year age difference between them, but Niko would know a lot of people from working at the club. He got on well with everyone. They could have known each other.” He inhaled and let out a weary sigh. “God, this is just awful. Two families devastated in a single night.”

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