I watched her depart, thinking of how badly I wanted to go and see those statues at the first opportunity. I could have gone on my own, but something held me back. I needed Chloe to be there.

Those diary entries, after all, had been intended for her, and not me.

SIXTEEN

After she had gone, I sat in my kitchen, feeling frustrated and upset for quite some time. I didn’t want to wait until tomorrow: I wanted to go right now. But I knew equally that I would never do so unless Chloe was also there. She had known my predecessor better than anyone else, after all. She might well have insights or ideas based on that knowledge that might help me make sense of the faked diary entries.

I decided I needed some kind of distraction until the next morning. Eventually I tossed the notebook down and headed back to the Hotel du Mauna Loa. But when I got there, the only other person present was Wallace Deans, squeezed into a chair in the corner. He was clearly deep into a binge, if the half-empty bottle of hooch by his arm was anything to judge by. He regarded me with me watery eyes, and I wondered just how long he had before his liver finally gave out.

‘Maybe you should take it easy,’ I said, nodding at the bottle.

‘Go to hell,’ he slurred at me, his head dipping down to regard the table.

I knew it wasn’t really any of my business, but I pulled a chair up across from him anyway. ‘I heard about what the Patriots did to you.’

Wallace let out a drunken snort. ‘And you think that’s what this is about?’ he said, holding up his glass.

I leaned back and grimaced as a cloud of foul breath enveloped me. Now I was sitting across from him, I realized he smelled as if he hadn’t washed or showered in weeks.

‘Okay,’ I said, doing my best to maintain an air of equanimity. ‘So why all the drinking?’

He stared off past me for so long that I really began to think he’d forgotten I was even there. ‘It doesn’t matter,’ he said quietly.

‘Well, if you—’

‘Fucking Vishnevsky,’ he roared, slamming his glass down hard enough on the table to make me jump. ‘Fuckin’ no good sonofabitch.’

‘What happened, Deans?’ I heard a voice say from behind me. ‘You and your boyfriend fall out?’

I twisted around to see Rozalia standing by the door. By the time I turned back, Wallace had already half-struggled out of his seat, a look of fury on his face. He stumbled and tried to grab hold of the table, and succeeded only in pulling it down with him as he collapsed on the floor.

I jumped up, pushing my chair back. The last thing I needed was Wallace throwing up all over my shoes.