Page 106 of A Murder is Going Down

There is, of course, the small problem that Patrick is between me and the car.

Staying low, I start to inch my way back down the slope, not on the path but following its rough direction. I hope. Every twig or leaf that snaps under my feet sounds like someone’s fired a gun next to my ear, but Patrick’s blundering around too, covering my noises with his own. Also, his voice, still calling out my name, seems to be moving further away.

He must be going towards the car. I don’t think he’d hurt Aunty Sam, but … would he? She’s the only witness that he was here that night, even if Patrick doesn’t know it yet. I forget about being stealthy, stand up and start running. The path is closer than I realised and I’m back on it soon. Unfortunately, so is Patrick.

‘Heidi!’ he says, only ten metres away from me. He’s higher up on the path than I am, not closer to the house like I thought at all. ‘Bloody hell, let me talk to you. I’ve ripped my shirt again!’

I run. I’m running and concentrating so hard that I nearly run right into the car parked outside Elena’s house. It’s not Aunty Sam’s car. It’s Elena’s.Double shit.

Elena, leaning on her walking stick, blinks at me in surprise.

‘Elena,’ I pant, not sure where to start.

‘Heidi, are you okay?’ She takes a step forward.‘You’ve got a branch in your hair.’ Then she looks over my shoulder. ‘Patrick?’ I hear the slap of Patrick’s footsteps. ‘What’s going on?’

‘Can I borrow your car, Elena?’ I say quickly, still trying to salvage whatever this is.

‘What?’

‘Just for a sec. Please.’ I hold out my hand for the keys. I’ve played enough car-racing video games. I’ll probably be fine.

‘Are you okay?’ Elena asks again. But she’s holding the keys out to me. They’re so close I can almost …

‘Elena.’ Patrick jogs up to us. ‘Heidi knows.’

‘Oh.’ And Elena turns her clear blue eyes on me as her hand closes tight around the keys.

Now

The intercom buzzes and Marianne reaches out to answer. ‘Not now, Yusef or whatever the hell your name is.’

Then

I’m ready to run for my bike (even though my lungs feel ready for a long lie-down and a cup of tea, because, really, what is the alternative here?) when the passenger side door to Elena’s car opens and Michael steps out, hair somehow capturing the wind to make him look like he’s in slow-mo. (This guy is going to be a goddamn movie star if we ever get out of here.)

‘Michael,’ I say, barely even panting anymore. ‘Can you drive me back home? Right now? It’s an emergency, I’ll explain on the way.’ I don’t know that I can trust Michael, but I know Ican’ttrust Patrick and Elena.

‘Heidi.’ He seems concerned. ‘Are you okay?’

Why do people keep asking me that? Oh, yeah: I’m red-faced, demanding car keys and, apparently, I have a branch in my hair.

‘Please,’ I say.

‘Of course,’ Michael says.

For a moment, I think he’s going to do it. Then Michael looks at Elena, who shakes her head, and Patrick, who says, ‘She knows, Mike.’

So they’re all in on it. Perfect. I want to cry, but instead I feel weirdly calm. Is this how Felix felt at the end?

‘Heidi.’ Patrick steps towards me and I step away like he’s Fred and I’m Ginger. (Damn, Aunty Sam’s old dancing movies are rubbing off on me!) He holds up his hands. ‘It’s not what you think. Well, it kind of is, but it also isn’t.’

‘What’s that?’ Elena asks, finally looking at the Wilco t-shirt still balled in my hand, now covering in a light patina of dirt. I hold it up so she can see it. ‘Perfect,’ she says in a way that means the opposite.

‘It was in Felix’s old stuff,’ Patrick says.

‘I know. Michael was supposed to put it in the bin,’ Elena says.

Michael shakes his head, his gorgeous head of hair floofing around his face. (Seriously, is he travelling with his own wind source?) ‘I thought it’d be safer to put it in with the op shop stuff,’ he says. ‘Otherwise, I might get caught on CCTV putting it in a bin somewhere nearby.’