Page 72 of A Murder is Going Down

‘Death by redback spider bite doesn’t count assomething better to do. Elena needs things from the house,’ I point out.

Aunty Sam looks from me to Michael. ‘Just the two of you?’ she asks.

‘Yes,’ I say. And, at this point, I don’t know it’s a lie.

‘Okay,’ she says.

The family movie for the evening isRear Window(Michael’s choice), and I’m grudgingly forced to admit it’s a classic for a reason. Plus, I can finally see the fuss about a young Grace Kelly, who’s a good enough actress that I almost believe she finds her on-screen love interest – a guy twice her age who wears pyjamas all day – hot.

The autumn weather is settling in. When we pause for a popcorn (Aunty Sam) and a toilet break (Patrick), I go hunting for my favourite jumper, the sparkly one Patrickborrowedand never returned. I go straight to Patrick and Michael’s room, feeling only a bit sneaky as I push open the door.

The floor is covered in dirty clothes and the laundry basket is overflowing – a sneak peak of what their Melbourne place must look like most days. I find my jumper in the wardrobe, actually hung up, although it slithers from its hanger when I try to liberate it. As I pick it up from the floor, a paper tag flutters free. It’s Patrick’s luggage tag:P Maidenheadand an address in Fitzroy that must be his. I’m about to leave with my jumper, and wondering how I’ve never teased Patrick about his surname before now, when my brain catches up with what my eyes are seeing. The date on the luggage tag isnotwhat it should be. Because Patrick told me – he definitelytold me– he came to Perth after Felix’s death. He came here to comfort Elena and attend the funeral.

So why does this luggage tag say that Patrick arrived in Perth a full two days before Felix was killed?

Now

Marianne stands up, stretches and points at the open ceiling hatch. ‘I can’t handle any more of this. Up you go, then,’ she says to me.

I’m sure I’ve heard her wrong. ‘What?’

‘Old mate on the intercom is never letting us out and I’m not going up there, so I guess you’ll have to give it a go.’

‘I’m not going up there, either.’

Something has changed in Marianne’s tone. I’m suddenly sure I’ve made a bad mistake.

‘Either you go out the hatch or you start telling me what’s really going on,’ Marianne says, and her eyes, suddenly on me, are very, very cold.

‘It’s nearly over,’ I say, desperately, which is almost the truth.

Then

When Michael and I open the door to go to Elena’s place, the last person I expect to see is on the doorstep.

Okay, okay, maybe Lilia isn’t thelastperson I expect. The Prime Minister of Sweden would be more of a shock. Beyoncé would raise both of my eyebrows. Still, I’m sufficiently stunned that I stare at her, not saying anything, while she does the same.

‘What are you doing here?’ I ask.

‘I’m, uh, I was going to knock,’ she says, clocking the bag slung over my shoulder. ‘Sorry, are you on your way out?’

‘Kinda, yeah.’

‘I found out something I thought you and Patrick wouldwant to know.’ Her eyes go to Michael, who is definitely not Patrick, regardless of a similarity in bone structure.

‘And your phone broke?’ I ask. We’re still in the doorway and it’s getting weird, so I take a step forward, pulling the door closed behind Michael and me before Lilia can invite herself in.

‘I was in the area,’ she says, which sounds like a lie.

‘Uh huh.’ I look down the road and spot a car that looks a lot like Lilia’s mum’s turning the corner.

Michael sticks out his hand and I’m forced to make introductions.

‘This is Michael, Elena and Patrick’s older brother,’ I say. ‘This is Lilia. We … go to the same school.’ I see that one land.

‘You know Patrick?’ Michael asks her.

‘Sort of,’ Lilia says.