Page 15 of Deep Blue Lies

FOURTEEN

I slip into the office and see Kostas at once, seated behind another Mac computer, his eyes tight with frustration as he stares at the screen. Something about him makes me shut the door behind me. It’s like visiting the headmaster.

“Yes?” He doesn’t offer a seat.

I step forward, already feeling my words tumble out too fast. “I’m um…

I’m sorry to bother you. I have a photograph of my mother, here on the island, before I was born.

I’m trying to find out about her time here.

I was told you might be in it too.” I pause, I hope he speaks English, I should have asked Sophia. “In the photograph?”

His eyes narrow further. But he holds out a hand, silently indicating the chair in front of him. I sit in it, but his hand doesn’t move, and I suddenly realise he was actually asking for the photo.

Shit. “Sorry,” I mutter, as I get back to my feet, reaching into my pocket for the photograph. His hand doesn’t move, he just waits impatiently, his black eyes not leaving my face. I find it and hand it over.

Now Kostas looks carefully at the image. His expression doesn’t change, but he scratches absently at his beard. Then he looks up at me, a questioning look on his face .

“Um, I was told that this might be you?” I lean forward and point at the figure in the background, the gardener. “Could it be?”

He studies me for a long moment before his eyes return to the image. Finally he meets my eyes again.

“Why do you ask this?”

I launch again into my now familiar speech. “I’ve come to the island to try and find out more about my mother.”

“Your mother? Which one?”

I realise his English is just fine. More of a local accent than Sophia, but he understands me at least.

“The blonde girl. Obviously she’s much older now,” I say with a stupid laugh and then I get myself under control. “Her name is Karen Whitaker.” Then I add, because he’s still sitting there in silence, staring at me. “Do you maybe remember her? Do you know anything about her?”

He stays silent a while longer. It’s odd. His beard is so thick and dark that there’s a blackness to his face. It changes when he opens his mouth, showing ruby-red lips.

“When was this taken?”

“Um. I think it was the summer of 2000.”

He absorbs this without reaction, but after a while he responds.

“This is out by the old Aegean Dream Resort. It closed in 2001,” he says.

“Yes. I know.”

His eyes narrow a little now, perhaps with curiosity. “You know what happened there?”

“Yes. The murder?”

Now he really stares, his eyes narrow and searching my face. They then flick to the door, like he’s checking it’s shut. When he speaks again his voice is a growl.

“Who said this was me?”

I don’t know what it is, but I don’t want to tell him about Maria. It’s silly, I know, but at the same time it would make sense that I don’t know the names of the people I’ve been speaking too .

“I’m not sure of their name.”

Please don’t ask me to describe them , I think.

He doesn’t, thank God. Instead he just offers a half-shrug.

“This is me. I worked there for some years. I was part of the gardening team.” He watches me closely. He seems very confused, almost suspicious. “What is it you want to know?”

But it’s the first success I’ve had, and it thrills me.

Finally I’m getting somewhere. “I wondered if you might remember my mother. She’s the blonde one,” I say again, trying to keep my hopes low but feeling them soar.

But he doesn’t react again, he just examines the photograph, scowling at it some more.

“Do you…do you remember her?”

It looks as though he’s trying hard to remember something, or work something out. I’m not sure which.

“She came back the year after as well, in 2001, and she was pregnant then, and obviously…” I smile, because maybe it’s only obvious to me.

“She would have given birth, in May. To me. That’s why I’m trying to find out about it.

I don’t know much about that time. I don’t know if she was still working at the resort. ”

I don’t notice exactly when he does it – because I’m gabbling now – but at some point he must have looked up at me, because when I’ve finished he’s still staring at me.

“You said pregnant ?”

“Yes.”

He stares at the photograph again, seemingly lost in thought.

“Has she…passed away, this woman? Your mother?”

“No it’s…” I stop. “It’s complicated, but I can’t ask her about it.”

I feel him examining me. Eventually he nods, as if he understands. Or it’s not his problem. Again I’m not sure which.

“So…do you remember her at all? Like I said, her name is Karen Whitaker, I think she worked in the pool bar at the resort, and the other woman is an American, Imogen?—”

“No.” Just with one word he completely cuts me off. My mouth hangs open a moment, until I quietly shut it.

“I am very busy this morning. Safety registration. Everything has to be put into this…very irritating website, no?” He takes a deep breath into his broad chest. I wait, not sure how this is relevant to me.

“But I cannot help you. I do not know these people.” He stops again, and he studies me a while longer, like there’s something about me he’s trying to understand.

But whatever he’s thinking, he doesn’t tell me.

He holds the photograph out for me to take, dismissive now.

I hesitate though. Something makes me want to push, yet there’s no way to do so.

Instead I take the photo, thank him and find my feet taking me outside, pulling the door shut behind me.

As I do so I glance across, and see him scowling at me again.

I take a moment, staring at the closed door.

I feel somehow humiliated. I’ve never done diving, but this feels a bit like walking out of a pressure chamber.

Sophia is back behind her desk but watching with interest.

“How’d it go?”

I think a second, then shrug. “Not so good. He didn’t know anything.”

Her face falls, as if she’s somehow become personally invested in my quest.

“Well, who are you trying next?”

It’s a good question, and I hold out my arms in a shrug. “I don’t know. Kostas was like, my only good lead.”

She smiles again, like this is her idea of fun. “Why did you think Kostas might know your mother anyway?”

I tell her about the photograph, and because she looks so intrigued, I show it to her too, even though she’d be way too young to know anyone from that time.

“The ADR?” she says at once, seeing the sign that Mum and Imogen are standing under.

“That’s right. She used to work there.”

Sophia replies at once. “OK, well I know who you should speak to next then. ”

“Who?”

“There’s a writer guy, he lives up on the mountain. He’s kind of a creep, but he used to work at the ADR, right up until it closed. So he’ll definitely know something.”