Still Water (21 page)

“How much will it fetch do you think?” Gordon asked when they had recovered themselves.

“I don’t know. Enough for you to buy that motorcycle you always wanted with your share I guess.”

“What about you? What will you buy?”

Ella thought for a few moments. “A little time,” she said soberly.

At their feet the tuna lay glistening in the setting sun. It was designed for speed and power, its life always precarious in a savage sea, where it was prey for sharks and orcas and man. Though she was vaguely saddened at its death, Ella still felt the residue of the elated high the hunt had produced. She imagined her own eyes shone as Gordon’s did. She looked down at herself, her oilskin pants filthy with blood and fishy gore.

Her life, she thought, seemed marked out in absolutes of life and death. Of struggle and survival as old as the sea itself.

Matt woke early, the sheets and blankets on the bed twisted tightly around his body. He was sweating, breathing hard, and he blinked in the darkness, unsure at first where he was. The dream that just a moment ago had been all too vivid, receded. One puzzling remnant remained, the smell of the sea, but then the curtain fluttered at the open window and Matt remembered that he was no longer in the apartment where he’d lived in the city. Disentangling himself from the bedclothes he rose and crossed to the window. Outside the night sky was deep velvet and studded with bright points of light. The breeze was warm and the air thick with humidity.

It had been a long time since Matt had dreamed about his brother. Paulie was older by two years. He was stockier, and had their father’s build, who’d wrestled at college, whereas Matt took after their mother’s side of the family.

Paulie was thirteen the day he and Matt went out in the little dinghy they kept in Stillwater Cove. They were both good swimmers, but they’d been taught to respect the sea and they only ever went out when the weather was fine, and never ventured as far as the reef. As Paulie grew older, though, bravado took the place of caution. One day at his urging they went out when the weather was looking messy, the sky clear one minute and blown about with grey cloud the next. Matt remembered standing on the beach, watching the water peaking and chopping up when the wind changed, and Paulie telling him not to be such a chickenshit, that it would be all right. They sailed right out towards the entrance, until they could see the swirl ling patterns on the surface of the water where the reef lay. It began to rain, and the wind felt suddenly cold.

“We should go back,” Matt said.

Paulie scanned the sky, which had turned ominously dark. The swell was rising and the water was getting rougher by the minute. Teah, okay,” he agreed, trying to sound as if he was only making a concession for Matt. His brow, however, was furrowed in lines that belied his casual air.

They came about, and started tacking back. The wind was strong offshore, and they had to tack on a narrow angle. Coming about on a turn, the boom swung across as they changed sides, the wind again filled the sail, then a freak gust caught them off guard and tipped them into the water, capsizing the dinghy. Neither of them was wearing a life jacket. They’d been capsized plenty of times before, and this time ought not to have been any different. Normally they could right the boat again, climb back in and carry on as if nothing had happened. The water, however, seemed suddenly cold.

Matt came up spluttering, and when he looked around he couldn’t see the boat or Paulie. It was raining hard, sheets slanting down in the wind, and the world was suddenly uniformly grey. Waves were breaking and whipping salt spray into his eyes. He struck out blindly, trying to quell his growing panic and then rising on a wave he glimpsed Paulie clinging to the dinghy. He was shouting, telling Matt to swim over, and maybe it was the note of panic in his brother’s voice that really scared Matt. The distance between them was only a few yards, but it was widening. He struck out again, and every now and then when he rose on a wave he caught sight of Paulie still clinging to the dinghy with one arm, the other outstretched, water streaming down his face as he called out. It seemed to Matt that he wasn’t getting any closer, and he became tired, and the more weary he felt the more he was afraid and the more frantic and uncoordinated his efforts became. The reef was much too close, and the water was foaming. He felt the eddies and currents clutching at his body like insistent, invisible hands.

Their father had warned them a thousand times, take deep breaths if you get into trouble, don’t thrash around, and try not to waste energy. He could hear this tiny distant voice in his head, but somehow he couldn’t stop himself as he flailed and struggled against the current. A wave broke in his face and he took a mouthful of water and choked as he tried to spit it out. Another wave swamped him and he went under. There was a moment when he surfaced again and opened his mouth to cry out in terror before he went under for the second time, and then everything slowed down. He felt as if he was two people. As if his mind had separated and part of him was conscious only of his sluggish movements in the water, of feeling like a giant claw had gripped his chest and was squeezing the life from him, while another part of his mind wandered, distracted. He saw his parents and Paulie seated around the big polished oak dining table at home. His father was carving from a joint of beef, and his mother was smiling at something Paulie had said. The room was warm and lit with the glow from the lights on the wall and outside through the window it was dark, but snow flakes drifted against the glass. It was a weekend from the previous winter, after Paulie had broken his arm playing football, and he was making the most of the attention he was getting with his arm in a cast. Matt felt as if he was right there in the room but it was moving away from him and though he tried to call out so that somebody would notice him he couldn’t make a sound. The scene faded and he experienced a deep sense of loss and loneliness. Then the images fragmented and his parents and brother became like ghosts and all at once Matt was aware of the water again, the burning sensation in his lungs. He ceased struggling and inertia swept over him and he knew he was dying.

A hand grasped him and hauled him to the surface and suddenly he felt cold air on his face and opened his mouth and breathed.

“Swim Matt, dammit!”

He heard Paulie’s voice but the words didn’t register and he struggled and kicked, fighting the water and Paulie at once, scared to death.

“Don’t struggle so much.”

Paulie’s grip tightened around his chest and he fought to turn around, to grasp his brother as if he was an island.

“I said don’t fight me you little shit.”

This time Paulie’s words penetrated, and Matt stopped struggling. Paulie urged him to help, to kick with his legs, so he had, then he started using his arms as well, and the two of them eventually made it back to the dinghy. The sudden squall passed and the sky began to clear.

The water calmed as the wind died down, and once Matt felt the wooden hull beneath his hands he knew that he wasn’t going to die that day after all.

There had been a time when he’d had the dream often. Almost nightly. Ever since that day in the cove he’d been afraid of the water, and after Paulie had died he’d suffered from an illogical guilt that he hadn’t been there to save him that day in the convenience store where Paulie had been shot. That he hadn’t been there when he was needed to repay the debt he somehow believed he owed his brother. The obsession with which he’d later pursued his job as a prosecutor stemmed from that guilt. And even now Matt knew it affected him still, causing him to doubt the woman he loved.

He spent an hour helping Henry with the cider shed after he got out of bed. The framing was up and they began cutting lengths of timber planking to form the walls. As they worked Matt thought about Baxter’s reaction when he’d heard Kate Little’s name. He finished sawing a plank to length and turned off the machine.

“Something on your mind Matt?” Henry asked.

“I was thinking about Chief Baxter. He’s not married is he?”

“Nope. Never has been.”

“You ever hear of him seeing a woman called Kate Little?”

“I never heard the name.”

“She lives up on the point with her husband. Evan Little. They’re summer people.”

“Can’t say as I know much about anyone who lives up there. Why do you ask?”

“I’m not sure,” Matt said. He’d been playing with the idea that there was something going on between Baxter and Kate Little. But the more he thought about it, the more ridiculous the idea seemed. All the same, Matt had the feeling that Baxter wouldn’t be following up on his idea that Kate might have known Bryan Roderick.

He checked his watch and took off his gloves, remembering that he had a law practice he was meant to be running, even though he didn’t have any clients yet. The day before there had been a message on the answer machine from a woman who said she suspected her husband was having an affair. She wanted to talk to him about getting a divorce. It seemed the husband worked on the ferry that ran between the islands and the mainland, and his wife said he’d been staying away more often than usual and she didn’t trust him. It didn’t sound like the kind of case that Matt would gain much satisfaction from, but he figured he was in no position to be choosy.

“I have to go into town for a while,” he told Henry. “I’ll try and get out again this afternoon.”

“I’ll be here.”

When Matt drove down into Sanctuary he passed by the harbour and there seemed to be more activity than usual. There were cars and trucks parked all along the waterfront, and there were people climbing all over the pleasure craft moored out in the harbour. In contrast the fishing docks were almost deserted. Normally on any given day there would be a few boats tied up between trips or else refitting, but today the berths were empty. Matt slowed, and when he recognized Ben Harper’s launch tied up to a dock he pulled over and got out. Ben had the engine hatch on his stern deck open and there were parts spread out around him. He looked up as Matt approached, the sun flashing on his glasses.

“Problem?” Matt asked.

“Damn thing keeps dying on me.”

“What’s all the excitement?” Matt gestured toward the motorboats and small yachts out on the moorings.

“You haven’t heard?”

“Heard what?”

“Somebody brought in a giant bluefin yesterday. Weighed over nine hundred pounds. Apparently there was a whole school of them out there. Practically half the town is out there today.” Ben gestured at the parts on his deck. “I’d be out there myself if it wasn’t for this.” He registered Matt’s uncomprehending expression. “A bluefin is a type of tuna,” he explained. “They can be worth a lot of money. There aren’t too many of the giants around any more. A fish weighing nine hundred pounds, if it was in good condition, could be worth, oh, fifteen, maybe twenty thousand dollars.”

Matt let out a low whistle. “That’s a lot of money for a fish.”

“You bet. You come down here tomorrow, there won’t be a single boat in this harbour.”

“Including yours I guess.”

“Well, I hope so. But it’s not the fishing I’m interested in. I heard there was a pod of orcas out there as well and I’d like to take a look at them.” Ben sat back on his haunches. “Actually I thought you’d know all about this.”

“The only tuna I know about is the kind that I get in a can from the market,” Matt said. “Anyway, why would I know?”

Ben grinned. “That woman you were interested in the other day. The one that’s running for mayor. She has a boat doesn’t she?”

“Ella Young?”

“Yeah, that’s her. It was her boat that brought in the bluefin. The Santorini.”

Matt spent the rest of his day clock watching. Apart from a visit from the woman who wanted to divorce her husband he didn’t speak to another prospective client. The woman called around mid-morning and arranged an appointment for just before lunch when she said she would be in town. She arrived on time, and looked around curiously. She turned out to be younger than Matt had expected. He guessed she was in her late twenties. She wore jeans and a T-shirt.

“I’ve never had to see a lawyer before,” she told him as she took the seat he offered.

He imagined his slightly shabby office didn’t fit with those she’d seen on TV shows. He offered her coffee, and while he made it she told him about herself. Her name was Ruth Thorne and she’d been married for five years and had two small children. Her husband Charlie worked for the Island Ferry Company which plied the routes between the mainland coast and the half dozen islands offshore, of which St. George was the most distant. The facts were pretty much as she’d already told him. Her husband sometimes had to spend a night on the mainland, depending on the shifts he was working. Lately however he’d been staying away more often than he used to, claiming it was how the rosters fell. She was suspicious of him and several times she’d called the guest house where he was meant to be staying and been told that he wasn’t registered.

“You asked him about these occasions?” Matt said.

She nodded. “He said he stayed with a friend at the last minute. He looked like he was lying though.” She looked saddened as she said this.

“He could be telling the truth,” Matt suggested.

“I’d like to think that, I really would. But the truth is we haven’t been getting on so well lately. We seem to fight all the time when he’s home. Charlie doesn’t make a lot of money, and sometimes it’s hard to make ends meet.”

When she asked him about how she would go about getting a divorce, Matt outlined the process. He said he could call somebody if she wanted and see what her husband did on his next layover.

“You mean have him followed?” she said biting her lip, her eyes widening. She thought for a minute. “How much is all this going to cost Mr. Jones? I don’t have a lot of money. I mean I have a little put away.”

He gave her his estimate and he counselled her to maybe go away and think about it.

“Okay, I will. But I don’t care about the money. If Charlie’s cheating on me, that’s the finish of us. I don’t need a husband like that. I can get by on my own if I have to.”