Chapter Six #2
Sonia stood near the harbor where local fishermen kept their dinghies.
Nikki approached, past the bobbing rows of sailboats.
Rain hit fiberglass decks, the gentle pattering sounds accompanying the metallic notes of cables striking the masts.
Nearby, two white-haired men sat on crates, poles propped, lines in the water, a cut-off plastic bait jug between them.
Nikki apologized. “Sorry I wasn’t at the station when you needed me.”
“There are problems on your team,” Sonia observed. “Your supervisor needs to get things under control before Phoenix Seven loses the trust of my colleagues.”
Much as Nikki agreed, she wasn’t about to trash-talk her team—even to Sonia.
“What did I miss?” she asked. Sonia gestured and Nikki fell in step beside her.
“Police report from Capri, and photo match with our victim,” Sonia said.
“Claire Sexton was working for Jayston and Fiona Lake aboard their yacht, The Prophet. She went missing Saturday night, along with some jewelry and cash. The Lakes filed a police complaint. The captain of The Prophet confirmed the ID at the morgue.”
—
They made their way around the harbor, through the labyrinth of restaurants and sailing services, and past the rows of expensive sailboats.
Nikki appraised and admired each one—and compared them all unfavorably to Calypso.
She thought of Valerio. She should call him again, tell him to carve out time, ignore the bad weather, and sail with her into the grey-and-white waves.
—
Nikki followed Sonia through the glass doors of a restaurant.
They scanned the faces in the dining room, then continued outdoors, where guests sat beneath an awning.
Grey-haired couples drank coffee. Women with sculpted eyebrows and sunglasses drank Aperol Spritz.
A goateed man nursed a Belgian beer, and his girlfriend sipped prosecco.
At another table sat a woman and a child of seven or eight.
The woman had long chestnut hair and an eerie beauty that seemed less a gift of nature than of plastic surgeons—full lips, clear skin, and jutting cheekbones.
By comparison, the child was awkwardly plain: short and chubby, with splotchy skin, crooked teeth, and a stubbed nose.
Her eyebrows were bushy, and her straight mousy hair hung in a blunt, unflattering bob.
Sonia sighed. “I don’t see the captain.”
“Have you slept?” Nikki asked, noting the fatigued voice, tired eyes, and grey tinge to her skin.
“After this interview,” Sonia said, then took out her phone and dialed.
Sonia’s tough-mindedness was one of the reasons Nikki liked her, and why she’d accepted Sonia’s gestures of friendship these past few months.
They sometimes had coffee, or lifted together at the gym.
And once, Nikki and Valerio had taken Sonia and her daughter sailing.
Nikki had never been good at making friends—particularly with other women, who seemed to live by strange unspoken rules.
But Sonia’s rulebook was straightforward: honest communication and no bullshit.
She also respected Nikki’s privacy and need for solitude.
Nikki was about to offer to buy Sonia a coffee while they waited, when the homely child launched off her chair and came towards them.
“Are you the police?”
She spoke confidently with a refined British accent.
“Yes,” said Sonia. “I’m Detective Sonia Dieng, and this is Investigator Nikki Serafino. Who are you?”
“I’m Audrey Lake,” said the girl with an eager smile. She pointed. “That’s my mum. Captain Henry said to watch for you.”
Audrey led them to the table, and spoke loudly to the woman.
“These are the police, Mum.”
Fiona Lake didn’t respond. Clearly far into drinking, she seemed shaky, hand shifting a little late to steady her sloshing martini. She sipped, gazing across the water, where a cruise ship pulled out to sea. Beyond this, the dark form of Vesuvius was cloaked in a cloud.
“Signora Lake?” Sonia said. “Is there someplace private we can talk?”
When the woman still didn’t answer, Sonia continued, “Perhaps inside?”
Fiona set down her drink and, taking out a cigarette, worked a lighter for several tries until the flame held.
“This is perfectly suitable,” she said, gesturing to the nearby tables. “Interrogate me. Share my business with the world.”
“We don’t wish to disturb you,” said Sonia.
Fiona glared, eyes slightly unfocused, and sucked on the cigarette.
“And yet…here you are.”
She drained her glass and gestured for the waiter to bring another.
“We really must talk to you,” said Sonia.
“Do you have business cards?”
Sonia and Nikki took a moment to locate a card each. Fiona didn’t look before tossing them onto the table.
“I’ll instruct Henry to call you…or Jayston. I simply can’t…not today…I just can’t.”
Nikki glanced between the disinterested face of the mother and the cheerful, expectant face of the child—a contrast that made her suddenly uneasy and acutely aware of the missing nanny.
“Ma’am,” she said, leaning in and speaking quietly, “I’m sure this is inconvenient for you, but we wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t urgent. A woman has died.”
She was going to say, “A woman was killed,” but changed her mind at the last moment, glancing at the kid. Children made Nikki uncomfortable. She never knew how to be around them.
Fiona gave a bitter smile. “Yes. How utterly tragic for her. For Jayston. Yes. So very fucking tragic for Jayston.”
“Who died?” asked Audrey in a small voice.
Nikki stared at the freckled face and wide eyes. Her stomach turned.
“Who died?” Audrey asked again, voice louder now. Quaking.
“Who do you think?” Fiona said with a dry, coughing sound that could have been a laugh. “Claire. Your nanny. Sneaky little cunt.”
Audrey howled. A desolate, inhuman wail.
The low rumble of conversation around them stopped as every head turned.
Sonia dropped to a knee beside Audrey’s chair.
“I’m so sorry, ma chère,” she said gently. “We thought you knew.”
The girl let out the last of her air, took a shuddering breath, and began to cry—deep, uncontrolled sobs.
“I didn’t know!” She whimpered, shaking her head. “I didn’t know. I didn’t know.”
Fiona ground her cigarette into the ashtray. “Oh, don’t be dramatic! She was your nanny for less than a year. By the time I was your age, I’d had a dozen nannies. We’ll find you another one.”
Audrey howled again.
“That’s quite enough!” Fiona sat upright with a jerk, voice low and threatening. “I will count…. I will!”
The girl clapped hands over her mouth, but the sobbing didn’t stop.
Nikki wanted to take it all back, to somehow erase what she’d said.
No. More than that. She wanted to undo what had happened altogether—unwrite the reality of the small, bloodied form on the cold marble, and the little girl howling for her.
Fiona pushed away from the table, rising unsteadily to her feet.
“I’m counting now. One…two…”
Prickly with the sudden need to move, Nikki stepped between the woman and the child.
“Signora,” she said, “can’t you see how upsetting this is for your daughter?”
“And whose fault is that?” Fiona’s rage turned on her. “You simply had to say that stupid thing. You’re evidently too inept to do your job properly.”
“What the fuck’s wrong with you?” Nikki snapped, a rush of heat in her neck.
She was vaguely aware of the pounding in her ears that seemed to drown out the screaming, and the restaurant noise.
“You’re a mother. Do your job properly, for fuck’s sake.
Take care of your daughter, or I’ll file a complaint against you. ”
“You bitch! Don’t you dare tell me how to raise my daughter.”
Nikki opened her mouth to argue, but Sonia cut in with a firm hand on her arm.
“This is obviously a bad time, Signora Lake. We’ll be in touch to arrange another interview. We need to speak to you and your husband, and anyone else who knew Claire Sexton. In the meantime, you must stay in Naples.”
“Oh, we have no intention of leaving,” said Fiona. “Not until I retrieve my property. She pilfered from me. She was a thief!”
—
When they’d gone some distance up the pier, Sonia swung around and faced Nikki. Her tired eyes were hard. “What the hell was that?”
“What was what?”
“You know exactly what I mean. What the hell do you think you’re doing antagonizing a witness? I thought I could trust you to deescalate.”
“She was never going to cooperate.”
“Well, she certainly won’t now! First Angelo, and now you. Does everybody in Phoenix Seven need anger management training?”
Nikki protested. “That woman is abusing her kid. Do we just stand by and let it happen?”
“What abuse? She’s healthy, well-fed. There are thousands of children in this city who have it far worse.”
“Emotional neglect?” Nikki demanded. “Psychological abuse? Don’t these matter?”
Sonia clasped her hands behind her neck and blew out, face to the sky.
“And you think that if you talk to her like that…shame her for being a bad mother—that will cure her? Or is it just possible she takes that shame and twists it, and turns it on her kid instead?”
Nikki was silent. The adrenaline was subsiding, leaving her weak and a little sick.
Sonia wiped a hand across her face. She looked defeated.
“You need to pull yourself together,” she said. “I know things have been hard. I get it. I get that you’re angry. But I can’t have you on this case if you’re going to be a liability.”
Then she turned and left, striding across Via Partenope to where her police vehicle was parked. Nikki watched her drive away.