Page 6 of Saltwater

“They’re models.” Freddy nods at them just as they pause, pose. “They get paid to walk around like that. It’s promotional, for one of the shops.” Then he laughs. The sound is high and hard and awful, like fiberglass hitting concrete. “Lorna thought they were real,” he says to Helen.

“I thought they were too, the first time,” she says to me. “You’ll get used to it.”

I force a laugh. I’m in on the joke now. But I hate it, how easy it is to pretend to be someone else.

We’re nearly through the thick of it, this touristy stretch, when a man wedges past me to clap a hand on Marcus’s back and say: “They’re letting anyone on the island now?”

The man kisses Naomi on both cheeks and extends a hand to Richard for a quick shake. When he does this, he turns. I recognizehis profile. And it comes flooding back—the sight of the strawberry-pink blood on the swim platform, the knowledge that there’s no easy exit from this island, from this family. I look at the ground, but I even know his loafers.

“I thought you were in Antibes,” Marcus says.

“I was, I was. But then I heard about this thing Werner’s putting on at Gallo Lungo, and you know I never pass up an opportunity to check out someone else’s island.” He smiles and his canines are bigger and sharper than the rest of his teeth. “So I took the boat down. How long will you be here?”

“A week.”

“You have to join me for dinner. I won’t take no for an answer.”

“If we have time,” Marcus says. It’s a cold wind—the affable family man gone in an instant. But then, it’s no surprise. These two have a long history. The only surprise is that Stan Markowitz stopped us atall.

“Of course,” he says. “Only if you have time.” He turns to leave and adds, his eyes meeting mine: “I’ll call your assistant.”

—

“Don’t you ever wonder,”Stan Markowitz said to me, “what really happened on that island?”

I had just delivered him a bottle of water. Sparkling. Saratoga, not Pellegrino. He had asked for it by name.The blue bottle,he had said,you know the one.

I did know the one. I was good at my job; I had bought it specifically for him.

“I don’t,” I lied, standing by the door. “Can I get you anything else?”

“Is he running late today?” Stan checked his watch.

“Nope. On time.”

“It’s already two.”

“I’ll go check with him,” I said.

Let me go.

“You’ve really never thought about it?” he said as I went to leave.

“No.”

Of course I’ve thought about it.

“I don’t believe you.” He took a sip of water. “Is that why you took this job? Let’s be honest, you probably know more than most. I can only imagine the kind of access you have. They’re soprivate.” He said it harshly, a criticism. “Everyone says his brother, Richard, did it, killed his own wife,” Stan continued. Then, looking past me, he added, “I’m still furious they got away with it.”

It’s nothing compared to what you’ve gotten away with.

“I’ll be right back,” I said.

At the door to Marcus’s office, I leaned my head in. “Stan’s waiting.”

“Good,” Marcus said. He didn’t look up.

“What would you like me to tell him?”

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