Meg shrugged. ‘Something like that.’
The woman gestured to a high table nearby. ‘Shall we sit?’
Meg shook her head. ‘Oh, I’m … um …’ she stammered. ‘Sorry, I’m meeting someone here.’ Was she meant to know this woman? She’d had a funny feeling yesterday that she knew her somehow.
The woman laughed and extended a hand. ‘You’re meeting me, Chrissy Baxter.’
Meg had the strange sensation of recalibrating. Chris was thewomanin the photos.
Meg felt her face flush. ‘Sorry, I was expecting a man.’
Chrissy laughed again. ‘It’s not the first time that’s happened. Maybe I should change my Facebook name to Chrissy.’ She had one of those faces that transformed when she smiled. Her eyes crinkled at the corners and came alive with a mischievous sparkle.
‘Can I get you a drink?’ Meg asked, gesturing to her Coke.
‘No, thanks.’ Chrissy looked around, selecting a table. One of the regulars raised his beer to greet her from a distance. Chrissy nodded in response and moved to a high table in the corner, as far from the bar as possible. She looked at her watch. ‘I’ve only got half an hour.’
‘How did you know who I was?’ Meg asked.
‘Sue told me there was someone staying here who was interested in Hartwell Gaol. I put two and two together. What’s your interest in the development? She said you’re doing research?’
Meg nodded. ‘I’m studying redevelopments of historic sites,’ she said, sticking with her story. ‘What made you start theSave Hartwellgroup?’
Chrissy took a deep breath, then sighed and stayed silent for a long time. ‘Actually, I think I am going to need a drink for this,’ she said eventually. ‘You want another one?’
‘I’m good, thanks,’ Meg said. ‘I’ll get it, though. It’s the least I can do.’
‘No need, it’ll be on the house.’ Chrissy tipped her head towards the bar. ‘I know the barmaid.’
‘Seems like you know everyone around here.’
‘Small town.’
Meg watched from a distance as she chatted to the barmaid.
‘You asked why I started the Facebook group,’ Chrissy said when she returned.
Meg nodded as Chrissy took a sip of her drink. Bourbon and Coke, Meg guessed.
‘I’ve watched that family rule this town my whole life,’ Chrissy said. ‘The decision to sell off the jail to them was the final straw for me. The local historical society wanted to make it a museum, keep it in public hands. Next thing, the state government’s sold it off to the Ashworths, and then, what do you know? Somehow they have approval to build apartments above it.’
Meg’s heartbeat picked up. Her suspicions about the apartments were correct. ‘How did that happen, though? Wouldn’t they need the local council to approve any development?’
Chrissy scoffed. ‘The Ashworths have been careful to look after Lindsay councillors over the years, if you get my drift.’
‘Look after? How?’
Chrissy shrugged. ‘A school reference here, a donation to a kid’s soccer club there … Look, everything I know is based on rumours, but where there’s smoke …’ She twirled the ice cubes with her straw. ‘If you’ve got enough money, you can do whatever the hell you like and get away with it.’
‘So that’s why you started the group?’
Chrissy met her gaze. ‘I decided enough was enough, not that it’s made any difference.’
‘I was in the café yesterday when Isobel Ashworth came in.’
Chrissy nodded but said nothing, so Meg went on.
‘It’s pretty brave, going up against a family like that.’
