Page 117 of A Murder is Going Down

‘Measure twice, cut once.’

‘Exactly.’

We grin at each other across the table.

‘So how did it go?’ Aggie asks.

‘Weren’t you watching the whole time?’ I nod at the laptop and the black-and-white CCTV footage, which she quickly closes down.

‘Sure, but the sound kept going and the little man woke up,’ she says.

‘Where is he, by the way? You look like a weirdo with an empty pram. Put a beachball with a smiley face in there and they’ll come for you with a straightjacket.’

‘He got grizzly so Christobel took him for a walk in the carrier.’

Christobel – Lilia if you’d rather – with a screaming baby?

‘I’d like to see that,’ I say.

‘I thought you two were friends again,’ Aggie says.

‘Doesn’t mean I can’t give her shit.’

‘You’d better get over it before the trip. Three weeks in Europe together is a long time.’

I can’t stop my grin at the thought. Once Christobel and Andy (Andy is Ben in real life, if you’re struggling to keep up – but, come on, it’s not that hard!) fell apart and Christobel was left with a pile of travel credits, the solution was obvious.

The barista slouches up. ‘What can I get you?’

‘Mocha please,’ I say.

‘No almond croissant?’ Aggie asks as he goes back to the counter.

‘Not today. Gotta get in shape for that book tour.’

‘Seriously? What did she say?’

‘I’m joking. Mostly. I’m too nervous to eat. But, I don’t know, I really think she was into it.’

‘Did she ask how much of it was real?’ Aggie asks.

‘She doesn’t believe a word of it,’ I say.

‘That’s good, right?’

‘Absolutely,’ I reassure her.

‘Plus, you changed a lot of the story.’ Aggie’s face is anxious. She always was a worrier.

‘It’s better this way,’ I say. ‘I can’t believe we actually pulled this off.’

My coffee arrives and I take a sip too fast and burn my tongue.

They say towrite what you know.

When I came back to Perth to find out what had happened to my brother, I had a lot of spare time on myhands and a story opening up right in front of me. I wrote the first draft over the July school holidays, soon after Felix’s death was officially ruled an accident. The second draft, the one where I had blur the facts so readers couldn’t work out the true story behind the fiction, took only a little longer.

The door to the café opens, setting off the jingle of the bell, and I turn.

He walks through the door, as lanky and scruffy as when I saw him at my brother’s funeral and he’d been such a cranky dickhead. When he sees us, his face becomes one big smile in a moment, transforming him into the one I love.

‘Spare me the PDA,’ Aggie begs as I stand up to hug him. ‘That’s my brother.’

‘You played it like a pro,’ he says. ‘I was listening from the control room the whole time. You’re amazing.’

‘You too, Yusef,’ I say, while, behind him, Aggie mimes being sick into the pram.

‘Patrick, please,’ he says and there’s no time for me to say anything smart or mean back before he leans forward and kisses me.