Page 30 of Deep Blue Lies
And then we’re flying along, skimming so fast I can barely keep my eyes on the flashing water ahead, and even though my hair is whipping out behind me, getting in my eyes, I need both hands to hold on and stop me falling from the boat.
TWENTY
We’re like that, me holding on as tight as I can and Kostas driving, one hand on the throttle, the other on the wheel, for a couple of minutes. It’s long enough to put us a good distance offshore and away from the beach. Then he turns the boat in a long smooth arc, so that we’re facing back towards Skalio, but too far to make out any of the buildings now. He pulls the throttle right back so that we slow, falling off the plane, and finally rolling slightly as the waves we’ve just created catch us up and rock into the side of the boat. Kostas lets the engine idle a few moments, watching it carefully, then he cuts it. There’s near silence, just the sound of the last few waves slapping against the rubber side of the boat.
“Seems OK,” Kostas says.
“The engine?”
“Yes.”
He’s not looking at me, his eyes are fixed on the horizon, out to sea, not back at Alythos. Finally he goes on, still not looking in my direction.
“When you came to me the other day, I said I didn’t recognise either of the women in your photograph,” he begins, then stops again. He looks gravely serious. “That was not the truth.”
He falls quiet.
“OK,” I say after a while. Because I don’t know what else to say.
“This is not easy for me to say. I do not like to be caught in a lie. But I had not thought about Imogen in a long time.” Finally he turns to me, as if wanting to know how this line lands. I don’t know what to say.
“OK,” I say again.
“A very long time.”
“Uh huh.” I nod. I glance over the side. The water must be deep here, the colour is almost black – like Kostas’ hair, and his eyes. I get the thought that he’s taken me out here into his element. It’s a bit weird. Unsettling.
“The truth is I do remember Imogen. I remember her very well. We became…close. When we worked at the resort. Friends.” His eyes flick away, glancing towards the derelict remains of the hotel far away on the shore as he says this. “We were still close when the murder happened. But it tore us apart.”
I stare at him, sort of stunned.
“Why? Why didn’t you tell me?”
He takes his time again, like he’s thinking how to put it.
“The man who died – Jason Wright. He was the resort manager, in charge of everything. The woman he killed was both his girlfriend and the resort’s deputy manager. With both of them gone, there was no one left to run the hotel. It was closed down. Everyone who wasn’t from the island – the guests of course, but the staff too – were sent home. I don’t remember how they did it, maybe the owner in Britain hired a jet to get everyone away – I do not know.”
He’s quiet for a moment, he seems to be thinking. I just wait, perched on the side of this little rubber boat over an abyss of water.
“What I am trying to say, it happened just likethat.” He snaps his fingers suddenly as he speaks, catching me by surprise. “Gone.” His face twists, I see anger in it. Regret, something else too. He falls silent again.
“I remember your mother too. Karen Whitaker.” He looks at me sharply, watching. I just wait.
“She and Imogen shared a room. In the staff quarters.” I think I knew this, I think she told me once – or maybe Imogen did, I can’t remember.
“OK.”
“She did not have a baby.”
Thattakes me by surprise for a moment. “I know she didn’t. Not that first summer. I was born the year after, the second year she was here?—”
“No. You weren’t.” His words cut me into silence. For a few moments neither of us speaks.
“I’m sorry, I don’t understand,” I say in the end.
“There was no child.”
I don’t know how to answer this. Obviously he’s making a mistake, or he’s just mixing her up with someone else.
