‘The media were all over the Point, but it died down pretty quickly. You don’t remember hearing anything on the news?’

I frowned, trying to rack my mind. ‘What should I remember?’

‘Bill was a John Doe—the authorities were called in when he died because any death not relating to long-term illness has to be investigated. They declared his death a simple heart attack, but there was absolutely no identification on him or the island to say who he was, so they couldn’t contact any next of kin.’

‘Hang on … that does sound vaguely familiar.’ My mouth gaped open—I’d known there was something intriguing about the island from the moment I first laid eyes on it.

‘It dropped out of the news pretty quickly when no leads came forward.’

‘Wow. Does anyone live there now?’

‘No,’ she said, looking out to the island. ‘Well, aside from Lion and the other wildlife.’

‘There’s a lion out there?’

Jedda chuckled. ‘Bill’s cat—a stray he found as a kitten—is called Lion. The poor thing must be getting on in years now. The cat’s almost as famous as the castle is round here.’

‘The castle?’

‘Yeah. Well, it’s a shelter Bill made of shells and other debris, but it certainly looks like a castle; it has turrets and everything.’ She shrugged. ‘Or so I’ve heard.’

I took another sip of wine—it was very good. ‘Do you know Dan?’

‘Emerson?’

‘I’m not sure of his last name, but I met him on the beach my first morning.’ Although I hadn’t been close enough to talk to him again, I’d seen him every morning—sometimes in the early evenings as well—rowing to and from the island. ‘He was coming back from the island.’

‘Yep, that’ll be Daniel Emerson. He and Bill were mates and I hear he’s become Lion’s unofficial guardian. Most people would move the cat to their place, but apparently Dan didn’t want to unsettle the animal.’

‘That’s sweet of him.’

‘Sweet?’ Jedda snorted. ‘Now there’s a word I wouldn’t associate with the Emersons.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘You’ve heard of The Lobster Factory, right?’

I nodded. It hadn’t taken me long to discover that many of the townsfolk worked at the local icon—either in the factory, the shop, the restaurant, as tour guides or as cray fishermen out on the boats. It sounded like a multimillion dollar business and, in addition to crayfishing, The Lobster Factory also offered fishing charters and a sea lion tour, but I’d been so busy cleaning up the shack and enjoying just chilling on the beach, I hadn’t visited the reason most people came to Ragged Point. Truth be told, it didn’t hold much appeal as I wasn’t big on seafood. Plain fish was about as much as I could stomach.