Sure. How about I come to you this time?
Her reply appeared almost immediately. Brief. Careful. Controlled. So, Miss Lucy MacLeod was in an agreeable, if unusually non-communicative, mood.
He suggested they meet at the Old Colonial Hotel. No point in ignoring the elephant in the room.
Then he waited for a reply, which didn’t come. It seemed she wanted time to think about this. Well, he had no choice but to give it to her.
He slid his phone back onto his desk and rang for his assistant. Whatever she was planning, he intended to match it.
‘Have you got me that information I requested about Lucy MacLeod?’ he asked when Simon reappeared.
‘Yes, sir. To be honest, there’s not much to tell. She was born and raised in MacLeod’s Cove — named after her family, in fact. She attended university in Wellington, where she topped her year in Business Studies. It appears she continued to live at home while she studied, commuting daily.’
‘So no rogue student activity of interest?’
‘None whatsoever.’ Simon hesitated. ‘There is one thing, though.’
‘And that is?’
‘She appeared in her school yearbook as “The Girl Most Likely to Remain Single.”’
He raised an eyebrow. ‘Really?’
‘Yes. Unusual. It’s not a usual category. But it seems she wrote it in herself. There’s a quote about “independence.”’
‘Hm.’ It fitted with what Lucy had alluded to last night. Hurt once, she’d sworn off men. He rolled his shoulders, irritated that the idea affected him at all. This wasn’t like him. ‘Carry on.’
‘She’s the youngest in a large family with… notable careers. Her sister, Jennifer, is a writer. Brother Daniel is a political lobbyist, formerly based in the US. Another sister, Ellie, is in Hong Kong. There’s also a brother, Matthew, a photographer working in Africa.’
‘Right. And the youngest has to be fiercer, louder, more individual to be heard.’
Well, he thought, I hear her. Loud and clear.
* * *
Lucy brought a plate of freshly baked muffins and two coffees into the small conservatory at the back of the café. Pots of kitchen herbs crammed the space, which looked out onto a long, narrow garden, at the end of which, a cherry tree spread its branches.
She turned at the sound of someone entering. ‘Dan!’ She gave her brother a hug as he zeroed in on the muffins.
‘Cheese. Yum. My favourite.’
‘I suspected your tastes hadn’t changed. You’re like a big kid.’
‘Excuse me,’ he muttered around a mouthful. ‘I’m your big brother, and you should respect me as such.’
‘Ha ha.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘So, let’s get down to business. Oliver Perry-Warnes, to be precise.’
‘Right.’ He brushed crumbs from his laptop and opened it. ‘I’ve done the usual searches — which were interesting enough — and I’ve talked to Sam, who told me quite a bit. Perry-Warnes’s usual MO is big property development. I’m talking multi-million-dollar projects, not run-down village hotels. Which I thought was interesting.’ He grinned. ‘Then I spoke to a couple of old mates who’ve worked with him and lived to tell the tale.’
Lucy leaned forward, impressed. She rarely saw Dan in full corporate mode. ‘And?’
‘They were a bit nonplussed by his buying the Old Colonial. Not his usual scale, not his usual style. So, little sister,’ he said, tapping her on the head as she’d done to him, ‘I kept digging. Went to council connections — remember Tim? We used to play soccer?’
Lucy waved a hand. ‘Yes, yes, get on with it.’
‘Well, Tim says Oliver is involved with the development of a prime piece of Wellington real estate on the harbour, which is tipped to be on a different scale to anything in New Zealand. He’s planning an exclusive retail precinct, executive apartments, a luxury hotel — the works. But…’ Dan tapped a few keys. ‘If he doesn’t get council approval across the board, it’s just land. No consents, no development, no value.’
He turned the laptop so she could see a well-known waterfront site that had sat derelict for years.
