Conversation · Joyce Messier

"We were alone. And he seems very sure of his ability to keep things in control."

"Or he wants you and me to believe he's calm and in control. He's a politician."

Of course. Politics is showmanship. He is constantly performing for us... and lying too. I am sorry I don't catch more of his falsehoods, there are just so many...

Don't be. He was not performing. He was already picturing a war. This woman underestimates Evrart.

"There's always that risk, ma'am. But if I may offer my opinion..."

"He means it."

"Maybe he was manipulating me."

"I'll think it over, detective. Thank you for relaying this information to me."

She tries to hide it, but some great doubt is spreading within her. There is a crown slowly cracking above her head.

"Ma'am? Is everything alright?"

"What? Yes, of course. Everything's fine. Perhaps there's more gossip you'd like to share?"

What's this great doubt you're talking about?

You can't say. Only that she's hiding the magnitude of it from you.

This gave her pause. She's pensive, suddenly. Hard to say about what...

Have I underestimated the Union's ferocity? She has to ask herself by now..

"No, I'm pretty sure I'm reading it correctly."

"He wasn't trying to impress anyone. I think he wants things to escalate."

"Or he wants you and me to believe he wants to go to war."

Of course. Brinkmanship takes showmanship. We should have seen it before, in his office. He might well have been performing for us.

"You're right. He was probably just showing off to me."

"Yes. Evrart is a showman at heart."

"The man whose door I opened planned to write an article into a local paper."

"About what?"

"The strike being funded by a protection racket."

"One that has apparently driven local shops out of business."

"That would explain why the Whirling-in-Rags -- where the Union congregates -- is the only bar left open in Martinaise. Well that and Frittte because..."

"Nobody fucks with Frittte, ma'am."

"Precisely," she smiles. "Don't worry about that article -- regional papers are useless anyway. You probably spared the man his kneecaps. And I can be sure that the local shops have a bone to pick with Evrart." She smiles.

A flash of satisfaction. She can use this, in the future. To turn the tide against Evrart on the streets.

This is good. It pleases her.

"Don't worry about that one article, dear -- regional papers are useless anyway. You probably spared the man his kneecaps. And I can be sure that the local shops have a bone to pick with Evrart." She smiles.

"That's all I've got to say."

"What you've said is quite enough. You have given me a lot to consider -- and may have helped me prevent this conflict from escalating."

Hear that, hero? Feels good, doesn't it? You should relay confidential information more often.

"Naturally, detective. There are lighter topics to gossip about."

"I told him a drug trader might be somehow involved in the murder. He denied participating in the trade."

"Well, of course he would -- that still doesn't mean he's not benefiting from the arrangement -- the lorries, the harbour, all of it. It just means he doesn't outright admit to it."

That is very, very likely yes.

"Well, of course he would -- I really hope you and I get to talk about this drug trade matter in the future. The company has been suspecting foul play for years. Anyway..."

Sounds like she'll solicit your help with something -- when she gets the chance.

"The Union's militant wing organized the lynching."

"Yes," she leans slightly closer: "That's the talk about town. The Hardie boys they're called..." A crooked smile returns to her face. "I find the name rather amusing, honestly."

"He didn't seem at all worried about the whole conflict that's developing."

"I wouldn't have taken Evrart for a sabre-rattler. Was he surrounded by Union men he wanted to impress?"

"Evrart asked the Union's militant wing to fully cooperate with the investigation."

"How benevolent," she thinks for a second. "Hopefully they'll help you sort this whole business out... if they haven't already?"

"We cannot discuss the specifics of an ongoing investigation, ma'am." The lieutenant adjusts his glasses. "Besides, you haven't exactly been forthcoming yourself..."

She nods. "That is only fair."

"I have reason to believe the lynching was a cover-up."

"Oh my... very interesting. So the militant wing is protecting one of their own..."

Her mind races to the conclusion that most benefits her interests. That doesn't mean she's wrong, though.

"It looks like you may untie this knot yet!" Her eyes smile and a tingle runs down your spine.

There's something in you that really likes the way she's looking at you just now.

"I've said all I can."

"Well, I hope it yields something. Otherwise you'll have opened that door for naught." She smiles. "Anything else?"

"This militant wing has singled out a suspect for me."

"Evrart says the Wild Pines sent mercenaries after the Union -- and now one's dead."

"The company did not 'send mercenaries after the Union'. I told you, in great detail, about the mistakes my side made. And of course I accept them completely."

"I just hope you don't share Evrart's view on things. After all, as he said: one's dead now. The Pines certainly hasn't killed any of theirs."

Let's keep it that way -- she means to add, but then doesn't.