Page 34 of Fibre and Ink

“Are you the owner of this farm?” he demanded.

“I am.” I could have offered him my name, could have invited him in, but I was cranky as hell and didn’t want to do anyone in a suit any favors.

“Some surveyors were out here yesterday, staking out the plans for a new development but it seems it was all destroyed. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”

Ah, so that’s what this guy was about. I could handle this with an ‘I don’t know what happened, I’m just an innocent farmer’ kind of vibe, but I wasn’t in the mood.

“Who are you?” I asked. “Can I see some credentials?”

“I’m Bob Maskin, I’m on the town council.” The man drew a business card out of his jacket pocket and handed it to me. The business card confirmed his name, the Foggy Basin town council role and told me he was also a property developer.

Huh.

“Okay.”

Bob huffed. “So, about the survey markers?”

I shrugged. “Sometimes my alpacas escape their field. They’re very sensitive creatures. Disturbances and strangers rile them up. I don’t know about any surveyors.”

It was astonishingly easy to lie to this guy. I straightened spine and folded my arms, doing everything I could to look intimidating.

Bob Maskin seemed very small all of a sudden. He took a half step back. “Well, see that you keep them away from the site in the future.”

“I don’t remember being consulted about any planned construction, you know.” I stepped towards him, crossing my threshold to stand on the verandah. “Pretty sure there should be notices of works, of new developments and then a consultation period when things go up out here. This is a quiet are. You’re planning to put something up, you say? What is it? An apartment building?”

Bob Maskin’s face shuttered and he shook his head. “Keep your farm animals inside your farm, Mr Cooper.”

“I’ll do all I can.”

He left fast.

I came back inside to find Aster watching from the hallway. “He’s one of the council members that didn’t actually reply to me,” he said.

I passed Aster the card. “Says property developer on it. Think he’s maybe getting some kind of deal, a kickback or something for taking this project on?”

“Almost certainly.” Aster examined the card. “I’ll get in touch with the council members that actually replied and ask about him.” He sat at the table and opened his laptop.

I pulled out my phone and texted Harlow.

Mickey: Hey, ‘Lo. Some asshole was here about the survey markers and I made a big song and dance about consultation or whatever

Mickey: do they actually need to consult us if they’re building something new?

Harlow: why are you asking me? I’m not in property development

Mickey: because you’re smart and you know lots of stuff?

There was a pause before she replied. She knew I was playing her, but she was a sucker for compliments. I genuinely wanted her research expertise on this. Aster was doing great but he wouldn’t know every place that should be checked. While Harlow’s time at the community center gave her insights.

Harlow: okay fine, I’ll look up the county bylaws

Mickey: you’re the best!

Harlow: how’s it been with Aster there? It’s so good of you to give him space to write

I wanted to tell her everything, that age gap be damned, I was desperately in love with her best friend. But how would she take it? Besides I knew nothing could come of it and also, what? Love? Was I really in capital L love?

I swallowed the panic down and tapped a neutral reply.