Lucy crooks her finger and beckons me closer. ‘Rumour has it that you were a successful Bookstagrammer who called out a certain Tia Amboro and have since been cancelled, dumped and doxxed and you’re hiding out on the island because your reputation is ruined…’
‘I also got fired.’ My face falls. ‘Does everyone around here know?’
‘Don’t be embarrassed, dear, the same thing happened to Taylor Swift after that KimYe debacle when the poor poppet went into hiding in London and look how successfully she bounced back.’ Lucy gives my arm a supportive rub.
Lucia eagerly nods. ‘The Eras tour, case in point. Iconic.’
‘Ah – thanks, I guess.’ Imagine Xavier finding out all of that. It doesn’t exactly paint me in a good light. He knows parts but not all of it – I think.
‘The thing is, we have a specific set of skills, if you get my drift.’ Lucy lifts her eyebrows up and down, so I don’t miss her very clear point.
‘You do?’ It takes all my willpower to keep a straight face. What could they possibly be suggesting? What skills could three seventy-five-year-olds have when it comes to my problems? ‘I’m all ears.’
‘We do. We could solve your little problem…’ Lucy slips a knife from her handbag. ‘Oh, how did that get there?’ Is she implying she’ll use violence? If so, why does she look genuinely confused about how the knife got there?
‘You and your sticky fingers, Lucy!’
‘You stole the knife?’ I ask. ‘To sort out my problems?’ I’m kind of awed and terrified at the same time.
Lucy blanches. ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Harper! I likely stole the knife because I get a thrill from taking things that aren’t mine, but I have no recollection of slipping this into my bag, though that’s not to say I didn’t do it. It is a beautifully serrated bread knife…’
‘How many cocktails have you had?’
‘Four,’ she says affirmatively.
‘Actually five,’ corrects Lucia.
‘Six if you count the Bloody Mary at breakfast,’ Lucy Lou adds.
‘I stand corrected,’ Lucy says. ‘This knife could really do some damage, all those serrated edges, the length of it.’ She drags her sunglasses atop her head and stares me down. I’m confused by the mixed messages. Or Lucy’s confused. I glance at the other Lucys who seem to be waiting for confirmation of just what is going on here too.
‘Are you ladies suggesting… a murder for hire plot?’
They gasp. ‘We are suggesting no such thing!’
The hot sunshine is addling my brain, and the three Lucys are only making it much worse. ‘Then what?’
‘We are simply saying if you have a problem, we can fix it.’
‘How?’
‘The less you know the better.’
‘Are you murdery murderers?’
‘Only on weekends,’ Lucy trills.
What!
She makes a show of rolling her eyes. ‘That was a joke. No, we’re three little old ladies; of course we’re not murdery murderers, but we could do a bit of digging for you.’
The cogs click into place. I’m dealing with voracious readers here. ‘Ah, you see yourselves as characters fromTheThursday Murder Club, is that it?’
‘How little you think of us,’ Lucy Lou pouts. ‘We happen to know a thing or two about the dark web and what one might procure if stuck in a bind like you are.’
‘What would you procure?’ I swing my gaze to Turt, who I swear shakes his head as he ambles into the bookshop as if he’s heard enough for one day.
‘Information, of course!’ Lucy Lou says. ‘What else?’
