‘How did they dig up dirt on these people?’ Michel asks.
‘Oh, they took an ancestry class once and it provided them with a range of skills…’ I say with a laugh. Michel gives me a blank stare. ‘Fine! It was the dark web.’
‘Where did you get that from?’ Xavier says with a shocked grunt. ‘They’re spies from M15…’
My jaw falls open. ‘I knew it!’
Xavier laughs. ‘Joking. Lucy was a highly respected investigative journalist back in the day and still has a lot of contacts.’
‘That tracks.’ I could see Lucy being an investigative reporter, chasing down leads, convincing people to share their stories. Doing exposés.
‘Right? And Lucy Lou is master at social engineering.’
‘What’s that?’
‘Manipulating people into divulging confidential information, by playing a part. She does it well.’
‘Huh. Of all the Lucys I trusted her the most.’
‘Amateur,’ Michel says with a scoff.
‘And finally, Lucia has ties to the most famous family in the world, which we haven’t needed to call upon yet, but the offer is there.’
‘The royal family?’ I breathe.
He frowns. ‘Ah – no.’
‘He means Cosa Nostra. The Mafia.’
I gasp. ‘Lucia is in the Mafia!’
‘Mafia-adjacent; loosely, loosely connected, say if we needed a bit of muscle.’
‘Muscle? What! Is any of this true?’
‘Who would ever know?’ Xavier laughs. I remember Brian telling me that they dug up dirt on Mrs Bastille’s husband number seven too. I better be careful around those little old ladies.
‘Can we get back to more pressing matters?’ Michel says. ‘Like how do we know you won’t build on that land one day?’
Xavier shrugs. ‘I don’t have to prove myself, Michel. We’ve sold 49 per cent of the Last Chance Resort to protect the rainforest from development. My word should be good enough. Once upon a time you’d have believed in me. I’m not sure what changed that.’
‘You changed.’
‘My life got a whole lot more complicated. I had to change. But I’m still the same guy, outside of work, as I always was.’
‘Aww, is this part where you kiss and make up?’ I can’t help but joke to break the tension that still lingers between these once firm friends. Can’t they just admit they were both misinformed and get over it?
‘Harper…’
‘Fine. Fine.’ Michel nods, chagrined. ‘You can’t blame a guy for jumping to the wrong conclusion.’
‘Well, I can. And you didn’t have to be so bullish about it. Why not come and ask me?’
‘Would you have told him?’ I ask.
‘If he’d asked nicely.’
‘Yeah right.’ I scoff.
