Page 23 of The Sunken Truth (Lily Larkin Mysteries #5)

Chapter Twenty-Three

Kurt lived in a one-storey annex of a family home on the corner of Silver Street. His landlady – the young mother who Flynn had met the previous day, was wrangling two small children out of the house, but paused to smile at him.

“He’s definitely home now,” she told him, casting a quick glance at Kurt’s part of the house, while the children fell silent and stared at Flynn with wide eyes. The uniform had that affect on kids. “I’ve heard him moving around this morning. The walls are paper thin.”

“Thanks.” He took a couple of steps towards Kurt’s door, then turned back to her. “Can I ask if he’s a good tenant?”

“He’s fine. We don’t see much of him, but there are no wild parties and he pays his rent on time, so that’s good enough for me.” Her brow wrinkled. “Are you sure he’s not in any trouble?” She’d asked the same question the previous day when Flynn had rung her bell to check he’d got the right place.

“No trouble. I just need to speak with him.” When she looked dubious, he decided she could use a little more information. “It’s concerning the shipwreck. He was one of the divers who found it. I’m collecting information.”

“I see.” Placated, she took her children by the hands to lead them down the road.

This time, when he pressed the bell and got no answer, Flynn’s mind flicked to Eustace and his stories about cursed gold. A kernel of worry skittered in his stomach and he moved to peer in the window.

Inside, Kurt raised a hand to wave at Flynn as he crossed the room. A moment later he opened the door, his wild hair a tangled mess, and dark shadows under his eyes.

“Morning,” he said, circling his shoulders in a way that stretched his white T-shirt across his broad chest.

“I tried getting hold of you yesterday,” Flynn said.

“I had a migraine and fell into bed yesterday afternoon. Only just woke up.”

Flynn wasn’t prone to migraines, but couldn’t help but wonder if it would make you sleep so soundly that you wouldn’t hear the doorbell ringing multiple times in the afternoon.

“I have a few questions about the incident at the shipwreck yesterday. Do you mind if I come in?”

He hesitated a moment before stepping aside. Flynn walked directly into the living room and stood by the coffee table, which was littered with dirty mugs and a few plates.

“I didn’t see who cut Ryan’s hose,” Kurt said, sinking onto the couch, “So I’m not sure I can really help.”

“Can you tell me exactly what you remember about the dive? From the moment you got in the water to the time you surfaced again.”

He let out a grunt of impatience before beginning his story in a dull monotone. Boredom radiated from him as he recounted the dive .

“Then all the sand got stirred up,” he said eventually. “Ryan surfaced and we swam back along the seabed and came up by the boat.”

Flynn kept his gaze on Kurt, who maintained his passive demeanour the entire time. “Do you remember where the other divers were situated when the sand was stirred up?”

“I wasn’t paying much attention. As daft as it sounds, I was focused on looking for treasure.”

“So you didn’t notice anyone else at all?” Flynn asked with a frown.

“I know Ryan had been staying close to the wreck with that ice cream lady.”

“Lily,” Flynn said.

“Yeah, her. I think the young couple were further away – the guy who owns the train.”

Flynn gave a curt nod of understanding. “And Harry and Nat?”

“The last time I saw them, they were moving towards the wreck.”

“Towards Ryan?”

He tilted his head from side to side. “Maybe.”

“I spoke to Harry Wright yesterday, and he seemed to think you were pretty close to Ryan when his equipment was tampered with.”

His jaw twitched. “He would say that. Pointing the finger at me takes the attention away from him.”

“You think he did it?”

He nodded once. “Makes sense to me. A quick injection of cash would sort out his gambling debts.”

Flynn’s eyebrows drew together. “His what? ”

“He plays online poker. A lot. He’s one of those people who thinks he can’t lose, and if he loses, he thinks he just needs to play a few more games to win it all back.

” He locked eyes with Flynn. “I worked for him last summer. You could always judge how his evening of gambling had been by the mood he came to work in the following morning.”

Flynn paused, trying to digest the new information. Having a gambling habit didn’t necessarily mean anything. But it corroborated the story about Harry’s financial difficulties, which gave Harry a motive to cut Ryan’s hose and steal whatever he’d found.

“Can you think of anything else?” he asked Kurt. When he shook his head, Flynn thanked him for his time.

Back out in the fresh air, it occurred to him he was going round in circles with all of his interviews.

Lily was right – if he wanted to figure out who’d cut the air hose, he needed to track down the artefact Ryan had found.

His chest constricted as he thought of Lily and the way he’d spoken to her. She’d been trying to help and he’d taken all his frustration out on her.

Before he did anything else, he needed to apologise.

His phone rang before he’d got far.

“Did you find Eustace?” the sergeant asked.

“Yes. He’s got the message now.”

“What did he have to say for himself?”

Flynn cringed before he managed to speak. “He thinks the gold is cursed and is doing everything he can to ensure it stays at the bottom of the sea. He intends to return it there if anyone brings it to him.”

The silence from the sergeant was loaded, and Flynn was glad he wasn’t relaying the information in front of the superintendent.

“All right,” Sergeant Proctor said. “As long as he stops hassling people, it doesn’t matter what his motives are. Where are you now? ”

“I went to speak to Kurt about his recollections of the dive yesterday.”

“And?”

“He’s pointing the finger at Harry Wright.”

“Did he see him do it?”

“No, just saying it would make sense, given Harry’s gambling addiction. Do you know anything about that?”

“No.”

“I’m tempted to go over and chat to Harry again.”

“If you think it’ll lead to something, go ahead. Also, when you get back to the station, can you sort out the report for Ryan Simmons? He was in here ranting about needing it for his insurance.”

“Yeah. I already did it. I just need to give it to him.”

“Good. And can you do one more thing while you’re out…”

“What?” Flynn asked.

“Could you make a quick stop at Doris Sanders’ place?”

Flynn groaned. “The cat again?”

“She just called complaining about her neighbour feeding it.”

“Because the old man fancies her and is looking to get a reaction from her. This is not a police matter.” Flynn briefly wondered how many times he’d uttered those words since he’d started working on the Scillies.

“It won’t take long. She just wants to feel heard. And you’ll no doubt get a cuppa and biscuits out of it.”

Flynn’s mouth watered as he remembered the freshly baked scones she’d given him the last time he’d visited her.

“Okay.” He turned and headed back the way he’d come. “I’m on my way.”

A smile played at his lips as he reflected on the call. When he’d first arrived on St Mary’s, he’d been surprised by how much they communicated over their mobiles rather than using their radios.

Now, he was extremely grateful for it. If their colleagues on the mainland were privy to their conversations, they’d never live some of their exchanges down.