Page 29 of A Murder is Going Down
We didn’t get here easily. Ben didn’t go for it right away and neither did I. It was up to Lilia and Patrick to wear us down: Patrick, because he was obsessed with disproving the idea that Felix was suicidal and Lilia, because, well, I think she really believed this might make me forgive her. Honestly, there is a moment when she makes a joke about synchronising watches and I forget what she’s done long enough to laugh.
The surgery is in a suburban home that was converted into an office. Signs of its former life remain: stained glassin the front door panels and a spiral staircase to an upstairs storage area that once must have been an extremely cute attic room. Ben and I used to go there sometimes to … You know what? Never mind.
It’s Monday evening, the day the surgery closes early, and the sun is still up, because coming after dark would feel so much dodgier.
Patrick turns up wearing black shorts and a black t-shirt, which I think is a bit much. We already agreed to arrive separately to avoid suspicion: he’s supposedly ‘at the movies’ and I’m ‘hanging out with friends’. Who these friends are and where they materialised from Aunty Sam didn’t ask, which saved me the trouble of lying, so we were both happy. Happy-ish, anyway. Happy adjacent? Okay, I was still miserable and a mess, but at least I was pleased to be spared one more lie.
‘How much cat burgling did youplanto do in Perth?’ I ask.
Patrick looks down at his outfit. ‘These are my normal clothes.’
‘You look like you play bass in a garage band.’ He doesn’t say anything, but I see what he’s not saying. ‘You do, don’t you – you play in a terrible garage band! How have you kept this from me? Please tell me there’s a YouTube channel I can visit? Is there a fan club I can join?’
Patrick is spared when Ben and Lilia arrive.
‘What’s with the black?’ Ben asks Patrick. Ben is wearing jeans and the same green t-shirt he wore when I dragged him to a horror film and he spilled an entire cup of Coke at the first jumpscare. I wonder if he also remembers our dating history every time he opens his wardrobe.
‘For stealth,’ Patrick deadpans.
Lilia laughs, which is annoying because she’s only doing it to ingratiate herself with me or whatever this is all about. She’s wearing theMy Neighbour Totorobadge I bought for her birthday last year, pinned on the collar of her shirt, which is shameless pandering.
‘They’re just normal clothes, Ben,’ I say, looking away when Patrick smiles.
Inside, Ben gets out the vacuum cleaner and Lilia busies herself with spray bottles so easily I can tell she’s done this before. Ben never invited me to help him clean and I try not to wonder if she ever came here while she and Ben were sneaking around. If I let myself get bogged down in the details, I’ll become one of those people with photos, newspaper clippings and red string connecting them all on my bedroom wall. I’m only fifteen; there’s still time, I think, not to let this one awful thing become my whole personality.
Once I’ve stopped obsessing (for now) long enough to head for the rows of files behind the reception desk, it doesn’t take long to find Felix’s file, which I split in half, handing one stack of paper to Patrick. I read about Felix’sundescended testicle as a child (which I never knew about) and his broken arm at the age of fifteen (which I did). There’s a mention of a referral to a child psychologist around the time Mum started to get sick but no further details. Patrick is reading aloud about Felix’s brush with German measles when we all hear, over the hum of the vacuum cleaner in the front room, the jingle of keys and the sound of the front door being unlocked.
I act first and think second, grabbing Patrick by the hand to haul both him and my brother’s medical records under the reception desk.
‘Who is it?’ he whispers, which is such a ridiculous question I don’t even bother to insult him.
‘Dad!’ Ben bleats, so clearly terrified that I wonder how he ever lied to me about not being in love with my best friend for any amount of time.
‘Dr Bryan,’ Lilia says, way more smoothly than I would have expected (so I can kinda see howshemight have lied to me, depressingly). ‘I hope you don’t mind I’m helping Ben out today.’
Dr Bryan, who was always so nice to me and cooked my favourite vegetarian lasagne every time I stayed for dinner, booms back: ‘Always a pleasure, never a chore, Lilia. You too, Ben. Just pretend I’m not here, I forgot to grab some files I need to take home.’
Patrick’s hand grips my upper arm and I know whatthose four fingers digging into my skin are intended to convey, because if Dr Bryan comes into the filing area, he’d have to be senile or blind or drunk not to see us.
My panicked mind starts cycling through possible explanations.We’re cleaning too! We fell asleep here! You’re hallucinating!
‘Hold on,’ Lilia says calmly, ‘I’ve just mopped in there. If you give me the names I can grab the files out for you – I’ve got a system for the wet floors.’
‘Okay,’ Dr Bryan says, sounding like this is only a bit weird when it’s actuallyquiteweird. He gives Lilia three names and then she’s scooting across the (dry) floor in front of us, standing on a pair of towels she’s procured from places unknown and moving her legs like she’s on ice-skates. You’ve simply got to respect her commitment to the part.
Patrick and I stay mushed together under the desk. We’re so cramped my head is resting on his shoulder. I can smell my own shampoo, which means he’s been using it in the shower – something I can choose to get mad about later, if we get out of here.
Lilia is making small talk with Dr Bryan about an upcoming family dinner as she looks for the files. It’s a bleak reminder that I’ve been popped out and replaced, the way you might change a spark plug on a car or a washer in a dodgy tap.
‘I saw Samantha at the shops today,’ Dr Bryan says. I can’t tell who he’s talking to until Ben replies.
‘Heidi’s Aunt Sam?’
‘Yep.’
Patrick’s fingers tighten on my arm again.
‘Oh.’ Ben’s voice sounds high and nervous to me, but maybe that’s becauseIknow I’m curled up mere metres away and Ben’s dad doesn’t.