Ahab was saved from answering by a man in fisherman’s overalls, who approached, slightly tipsy. ‘Crazy, isn’t it, Ahab? The boy is back . . . can’t imagine what you must be feeling. Here for you if you need anything, mate. But don’t hog all the women, scallywag. How you going, darling?’

‘Thanks, mate,’ said Ahab, nudging him away. ‘I’ll come talk to you later, yeah?’

‘Alright, Ahab, I’ll leave you to it.’ He gave a roguish wink before he staggered off.

‘Charming town,’ she said.

‘We get all sorts in here.’ He stood. ‘I can tell you’re busy, so I’ll leave you be. But if there’s anything you need – a guide, someone to help you find information – let me know.’

‘What can you tell me about the disappearance of the three Dempseys?’ said De Corrado, shamelessly direct.

‘How would you like me to answer? The story Ivy pays people to tell, or the one she pays people not to tell?’

He noticed her shift in her seat, adjusting what she thought of him. ‘Let’s start with the answer that I’m expecting.’

‘So the story we tell the tourists . . .’ He spun the chair the right way, sat back down and leaned back. ‘Seven years ago. Jesse Dempsey, head of Dempsey Abalone and the wealthiest man for miles. Alexandra, his dear sweet wife. And their son, little blue-eyed Forest. The three of them went for a sail on their private yacht and were never seen again. The yacht was found the next day, crashed onto the rocks further up the coast. Signs of a struggle onboard. Everyone assumed pirates.’

‘I bet the tourists love that part,’ said De Corrado.

‘Some do. Others love the next bit: that it was Jesse’s second-in-charge at Dempsey Abalone who was behind it all. The man they called Donny – Jonah Donnager. Most of the locals thought Donny wanted the business for himself, or that Donny wanted to kidnap Forest so that his odd little son Huck would have a friend forever . . .’

‘Fascinating. Where is Donny now?’ said De Corrado.

‘Who knows. I was hoping you might be able to tell me.’

He gestured to Ned for a drink, who waved him off – soon, soon – still trying to convince the tourist to come dirtbiking.

‘One part of the story most people don’t tell is that his son, little Huck, went missing that same day. It’s not quite as captivating – he wasn’t rich, he wasn’t well known. If you ask me, there has to be some connection, although beats me what it might be. Back then, the locals turned on Donny, and once the police cleared him as a suspect he left town as fast as he could, half-mad with grief or guilt, no one ever knew . . . But what does it matter? Now Forest is back, all that changes, right? He can tell us everything we’ve wanted to know these last seven years.’