I was hoping that gorgeous CIA agent Margarita Gomez would never find out about the deception I had played on her in Türkiye. I feared that if we met up again, the tables would be turned, and I’d be receiving a hefty dose of payback.

I’m Dougay Roberre, an expat Australian living on the French Riviera, where trouble has a knack for finding me, posing questions I foolishly feel compelled to answer.

Why would a stand-over merchant think I needed to buy his special insurance?

Why has the thug, M. Beret, come to visit me with a gun?

Why are those criminal scumbags, Louis Heroux and the Mascati twins, meeting a Brazilian drug lord on top of Piazza Michelangelo in Florence?

If only my crystal ball hadn’t fogged up, I would have told Margarita I was busy that week and couldn’t join her in Italy.