The Lost Swimmer (29 page)

‘There's a pattern, though, is there not?'

How had the Italian police managed to find out university business? Had Coastal referred the matter to outside authorities since I'd been away? What was Priscilla's role in all of this?

‘Where did you get the idea of millions of dollars?' I desperately hoped to get a clearer picture.

‘From your local police.'

My stomach cramped. The matter had gone further and was vastly more serious. I would have to contact DiStasio as soon as I'd finished with Napolitano. Was the fraud somehow linked to Stephen's disappearance?

‘I ask you again,' beat on Napolitano, ‘to tell me about the fraud. I can only assume you needed the money to cover your husband's gambling debts?'

‘Stephen didn't gamble. He invested money and the stock market went against him.'

Napolitano smiled. ‘Did you use the money you stole to help him?'

‘She's confessing to nothing,' roared Vitale and thumped the little ceramic table so hard it rocked wildly. ‘Say no more, please, Rebecca.'

‘But I never did any such thing!' I was suddenly in the middle of an Italian soap opera.

Vitale leaped to his feet. ‘I need to talk to my client,' he said.

‘No,' replied the Commissario. ‘We will continue. There are many millions she has hidden away and if we get to the source of the money trail, I believe it will lead to the answers we need.'

‘I wish you
would
get to the bottom of the money trail. But first you need to find my husband.' The mood around me was pure testosterone. ‘Please?' I added.

‘Tell us where you dumped the body?' whispered Napolitano and Giotto's eyes widened as he looked up from his notes. Vitale gazed at me. I opened my mouth to again profess my innocence.

‘No, no, no!' Vitale shouted. ‘She is saying nothing. You have no proof that there is a body and until you do, this meeting is over. The alleged fraud is in Australia and it has nothing to do with your jurisdiction.' Vitale grabbed me under both arms, lifted me up and led me out on jellied legs, shutting the door on a fuming Napolitano and an alarmed Giotto.

•  •  •

Marco, Maria, Burton and I sat around my room. No one had spoken for the past few minutes. I was drained but needed the company. The police and Vitale had left the hotel over an hour ago, Napolitano vowing to return as soon as he had more proof.

Finally Marco shuffled in his chair as if he were about to speak. Everyone turned. He sighed and shook his head.

‘I've known Rebecca nearly thirty years, Marco,' said Burton. ‘And I promise she never would have stolen money, not a cent.'

‘Then, who is setting you up?' asked Marco quietly. ‘Might that person have something to do with your husband?'

‘I don't know. But why would they? That's what I can't work out.' My blood ran cold.

‘To make everyone think you're guilty,' replied Marco.

‘It's possible, isn't it, Rebecca?' Tonight Maria looked her age, her face creased with worry.

‘Anything's possible,' I sighed. ‘Including that Stephen drowned or committed suicide.' I felt the familiar tears gush up.

‘But could Stephen have stolen the money and faked his disappearance?' continued Marco.

‘It would be completely out of character. He's not like that.' I shook my head tiredly. I didn't know what to think anymore.

‘Is that because you don't want it to be true or because it's impossible?' quizzed Marco.

‘I'm sure he could forge your signature, Bec,' said Burton, and Marco sat forward.

‘Well, he'd never been to Athens, so he couldn't have set up the accounts,' I said.

‘But Sofia says the bank manager takes bribes. He could have mocked it up to look like someone went physically to the bank, when they didn't,' said Maria.

I gave a long exhale that sounded like a moan. ‘Give me some credit for knowing my husband. Put it this way – Stephen played the stock market. I didn't know about his losses but I'm not surprised. Horrified. But not in any doubt it's true. On the other hand, Stephen manipulating university accounts and using my name? I honestly don't think so.'

‘But he would know you think that,' said Burton gently. ‘Unfortunately it gives him the perfect opportunity.'

‘Someone's set you up, and Stephen has a motive,' echoed Maria.

‘Gamblers who lose all their money can get desperate,' said Marco.

‘He's not a gambler,' I mumbled tiredly.

‘Bec, you need to face this.' Burton wheeled close and dipped his head, trying to catch my eyes, which I averted to the ground. ‘It doesn't seem like coincidence that you're accused of fraud, Stephen loses all your money and then disappears. Think like a professional.' Burton's blue eyes were vibrant and pleading. I lifted my head and he followed my gaze, locking mine into his. ‘Reason this out like the leading archaeologist you are. If we found those three threads in the dirt – missing public funds, lost savings and the disappearance of a key person – what would we hypothesise?'

I leaned away and broke eye contact. I wanted to retreat, but I had nowhere left to go. ‘All right, I get where you're heading,' I replied. ‘But I'd also keep an open mind. I'd form another hypothesis to test against it.'

‘Which would be?' asked Marco.

I paused, racking my brain, angry at all of them.

‘Why don't we make a list?' said Maria, sensing my distress. ‘Let's draw up columns. If Stephen's alive and if, God forbid, he's not.'

We worked into the small hours and were still batting out ideas, going round in circles, as the pink dawn crept into the sky and brightened. It was Monday morning. As soon as it reached nine o'clock I phoned the organisers of Stephen's conference on Capri to check if they'd heard from him. They were from an English university and had only just arrived, with the conference due to start on Wednesday. There had been no messages from Stephen. My heart sank. They were sympathetic and worried and promised to get in touch immediately if there was any contact. As I hung up, a wave of despondency hit. Maria took my hand. With great effort, I went back to working out scenarios of what might have happened, determined to cover every possibility, fighting back nausea.

It turned into a sunny afternoon. I was struggling to keep awake when a bustling in the corridor outside distracted me. The door burst open. I blinked, standing, not believing my eyes. It was Erin and James.

‘My phone ran out of battery and we couldn't find anywhere to phone in Singapore,' cried Erin, flying into my arms.

‘Mum, tell us everything,' implored James as he kissed me. I could smell acrid sweat. ‘Dad's missing, isn't he?'

‘Yes, I'm so sorry. He is. That part's true,' I replied awkwardly, hugging them tight, pinning one under each arm, never wanting to let them go.

‘But obviously you didn't murder him?'

Erin was clinging to me like a baby possum.

‘Of course not. And we don't know he's dead.' The last word stuck in my mouth.

‘Those lying reporters said he was.' James blinked back tears.

‘The press do that,' said Burton. ‘And God knows how they got onto the story in Australia. They're making everything up.'

‘Not unusual,' said Maria.

‘So, what happened, Mum?' pleaded James.

‘Your dad went swimming,' I frowned, trying to think if it was two days ago. It was hard to keep track of time. Sickened, I realised it was longer. ‘Three days ago. On Friday. And he never came back.' This time my own tears didn't well. In the presence of my children I found a sudden stoicism.

‘We have to fear the worst, that he may have drowned,' I said. ‘But – there were a few other things going on. He might have run away. Just for a bit. Just to sort himself out.'

Both kids peeled off and stared at me like I was a nuclear bomb.

‘Like what?' asked James.

‘Your dad took a hit on the stock market. He was trying to make money to look after us but things went the wrong way.'

Everyone in the room was watching the children.

Erin shrugged. ‘Doesn't that happen all the time?'

‘How bad?' asked James. ‘If we're in trouble I can help cover things. I've saved a bit from my part-time jobs and I've still got some money left after paying for our tickets over here.'

‘I can help, too,' said Maria and my lips quivered and tears tried to flow. Maria was as poor as a church mouse and James's casual jobs paid appallingly – he couldn't possibly have put much away.

‘I've already offered,' said Burton proprietorially.

‘I would if I had anything. I could get a job,' said Erin.

Again tears welled.

‘You're all terribly kind and I'm very grateful but that won't be necessary,' I replied, knowing none of them could help given the extent of our perished finances and Stephen's massive debt.

‘But if Dad did run away we need to tell him we're here to support him,' persisted Erin.

‘Get word to him that it's okay,' added James.

‘Honestly, your dad may have drowned and we need to understand that,' I announced, more honestly than I'd planned.

‘But he may not have,' said James emphatically.

‘If he'd drowned, wouldn't his body have turned up like Granddad's?' Erin hugged me.

‘Usually. Yes, I agree,' said Marco. ‘We would expect a body to float to the surface. We've looked in all the coves, from my boat. And we've dived. The police have too.'

‘They found his clothes in a crevice at the private beach here,' I added. James and Erin went very still. ‘But one ray of hope is that your dad's passport is missing.'

‘What does it mean that they found his clothes?' asked Erin.

‘I don't know. But I think it's good that his passport has gone.'

‘What if someone stole it and got rid of Dad?' asked James. ‘The mafia or something?'

Marco was affronted. ‘This is a very safe part of the world. No one would do that here. We all know each other,' he said, pride tinged with anger.

‘Then, I can see why you think Dad's done a runner,' concluded Erin. ‘Have you any idea where he might go?'

I sighed. ‘Well, nowhere he needs his passport at the moment, because the police would be flagged.'

‘Mum, in Australia they said on the news that you were under suspicion for murder. Why would they say that?' James blinked vulnerably.

‘Because . . .' I stopped to choose my words. ‘Because they're trying to work out what happened. They don't know me. I guess they have to keep all avenues open.'

‘That's right,' Marco agreed fulsomely. ‘They're just doing their job.'

‘But how can they say it? Isn't that defamatory?' pursued James, aggression biting into his words.

Marco shifted uneasily. James glowered.

‘You must be exhausted,' I said. ‘James and Erin, why don't you sleep in here with me?'

‘I'm not tired at all, I slept on the plane.' James was clearly lying.

‘We'd like to go diving ourselves,' said Erin. ‘I want to see where Dad went swimming. And we want to make sure no one's missed anything. Sorry, no offence, Marco, I'm really grateful for all you've done. But I'd just like to check for myself. I can't really think until I've done that.'

Marco looked to me for permission. The kids were experienced divers, having received their qualifications years ago. ‘I'm coming on the boat too, then,' I said, and they reacted with surprise. ‘I'm not going to let anything happen to you.'

‘And, Burton, would you be able to set up a social network site asking people for help, see if anyone's seen Dad?' asked Erin.

‘Good idea,' replied Burton. ‘Onto it.'

‘Do you really want to do that?' said Maria worriedly. ‘You'll get a lot of nutty people.'

‘But we have to, it'd be crazy not to have a site,' replied Erin firmly.

I knew it was going to be a long day – but I would never have guessed how long.

L
ack of sleep made my head thick and lumpy as I gazed out at limestone cliffs plunging into the indigo sea. On any other occasion it would have been a sight of inspirational beauty. Now in a haze I watched for a corpse, bloated and savaged. The remains of Stephen.

Marco was behind the wheel of his long, sleek boat. My children, as black as seals, were perched astern in wetsuits, their eyes intent on the water and rocks that stuck out like jagged teeth near the base of the mountain. Every so often there was a tiny, pebbled beach in a cove and Marco would carefully guide the boat towards shore. He was patient and thorough as he continued down the coastline.

‘I'd like to go in now, Marco, if I could, please?' James's voice was brusque with exhaustion.

‘Why here?' questioned Erin. ‘I would have thought further back?'

‘The current's going this way, isn't it, Marco?'

‘Yes, this is the prevailing current.'

‘And three days ago?'

‘The same.' Marco cut the engine and we started to drift, surprisingly quickly for what appeared to be a calm sea.

‘Then, wouldn't he be further away by now?' reasoned Erin.

‘He could be snagged,' said James.

Clearly they were in deep shock, talking about Stephen as casually as if they had lost a flipper. I was devastated they'd found out through the media and astonished they didn't seem remotely angry with me for not telling them sooner. But it was a great comfort to have them here now; in spite of how difficult it was, it felt right to be searching as a family.

‘I'm going in,' James announced.

I stood and held him, the wetsuit rubber cold and unyielding to my touch. ‘Please be careful.'

‘Help me get this on, Mum?' I took the air tank while James fitted his arms into the harness. I tightened the belt. His cheeks were pink and eyes wide with adrenalin.