Page 64 of A Murder is Going Down

‘We’ve been talking a bit, about the Felix stuff.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Patrick says.

‘For what? Threatening to chooseNosferatufor our next family movie or burning my toast this morning?’

‘You love horror movies.’

‘We’ve been over this – vampires are a sub-genre.’

‘Actually, I meant sorry for getting you involved in this.’

‘There’s no need to get all sincere about it.’

‘I’m trying to apologise.’

‘You’re apologising for the wrong thing. Youshouldbe apologising for wussing out.’

‘Heidi,’ Patrick says, but it’s a whole sentence.

‘Patrick,’ I say. ‘Youstarted this. Just because you’ve lost interest doesn’t mean I have.’

Patrick seems like he’s trying to decide what to say, which is usually an excellent sign that someone’s about to lie. And why not, really? Almost everyone else in my life keeps secrets. I don’t know why Patrick would be different.

‘Why do you care so much anyway?’ Patrick asks. ‘You were never close to Felix and he was a dick. I heard what Adam said about the bruises on Elena’s arms, by the way. Do you think that was Felix?’

‘I don’t know,’ I say. ‘Felix and I never braided each other’s hair, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to know what happened to him. Can’t you think how you’d feel if Elena or Michael died suddenly?’

‘But they’re great and Felix was a piece of …’

‘You can finish that thought.’

‘No, I really can’t.’

‘I know he wasn’t a good guy,’ I say.

‘Right.’

‘But he was my brother.’

‘Sorry, I didn’t even know Felix well. He just seemed … not like you.’ His eyes drift towards the deli. (How much time does it take to buy a packet of biscuits?)

‘What does that mean?’

I’m expecting a joke, but Patrick takes the question seriously. ‘I always felt like Elena was scared of him,’ he says softly.

I don’t say anything.

‘Wereyouever scared of him?’ he asks.

‘I—’ is as far as I get before Lilia appears, clutching a packet of Tim Tams.

‘Sorry, I couldn’t decide between double coat and caramel,’ she says. ‘We ready to go?’ When neither of us says anything, she repeats the question.

‘Sorry, yeah,’ Patrick says. ‘I only had one coffee this morning, I’m still technically asleep.’

‘How many do you normally have?’ I ask.

‘Three.’