Page 31 of A Murder is Going Down

‘Notus, but they would have told Elena and Aunty Sam. I think Aunty Sam would have mentioned it to me.’ Probably. Maybe. Possibly.

‘Fair play.’

‘Sleep disturbance can be a symptom of depression,’ Lilia says quietly, but we both ignore her.

‘Sleep disturbance can be a symptom of depression,’ I say to Patrick.

‘Everyone has trouble sleeping sometimes.’

‘Haveyouever been prescribed sleeping tablets for it?’ I ask him.

‘Yes, actually.’

‘You were supposed to saynoso I could make my point.’

‘Which was?’

‘I forget.’

I take out my phone to snap photos of the file, because who knows when it might come in handy, but the battery’s down to one per cent. Dammit.

‘Can I borrow your phone?’ I ask Patrick, miming taking a photo.

He shakes his head. ‘I told you. I’ve lost it.’

‘Here?’

I have a moment of panic at the idea of Ben’s dad finding Patrick’s phone down the back of a filing cabinet while reading up on Graham Brown’s hernia operation.(I’m not snooping. Graham Brown works at the local IGA and tells anyone who will listen, and many more who would rather not, about his hernia operation.)

‘No, I haven’t seen it since the party.’

‘That was two days ago. Haven’t you even tried calling it from Aunty Sam’s landline?’

‘I never thought of that,’ Patrick says flatly.

‘Sorry. Have you tried Find My?’

‘I never set it up.’ Patrick lowers his voice. ‘I think someone took it deliberately. It went straight to voicemail when I called.’

‘Why would anyone take it?’

‘The photos I took at Elena and Felix’s were on that phone,’ he says.

‘So?’

‘Maybe there was something important on there? Something someone else didn’t want us to have,’ Patrick says.

I want to talk more about this, but I also want to get out of here.

‘Ben?’ I say, because he’s nearest. ‘Can I borrow your phone?’

‘Uh, why?’

‘I’m starting to suspect you’re cheating on me,’ I say, deadpan, and only Patrick laughs. ‘I need to take some photos of Felix’s file and my battery’s gone,’ I add quickly.

‘Uh,’ Ben says, clearly reluctant even as he pulls his phone out of his pocket. ‘Sure, I guess.’

I hold out my hand to take it and key in his passcode, which is still the year of his birth. (Ben’s bad privacy settings are no longer my concern.) Then I snap photos of anything even remotely interesting in Felix’s file and go to WhatsApp the photos to myself.