Page 81 of A Murder is Going Down

The sound of the barista’s annoyance brings me back to the takeaway window.

‘Oat mocha please.’ I’m still watching Patrick and Elena, who are talking intently, and the barista has to ask me twice to scan my card.

‘Heidi?’ Lilia says.

‘What?’ I’m irritated. I’ve let her tag along (okay, maybe slightly more than tag along) as my Patrick stand-in – but that doesn’t mean we’re friends again. Does it?

‘Do you mind?’

It’s then I realise I’m blocking her from putting in her coffee order. I step to the side, and lose my view of Patrick and Elena. What I need is some kind of listening device or … Dammit, maybe I do need a giant newspaper to hide behind.

Lilia orders her coffee, then comes to stand beside me, not quite close enough to indicate we’re together, but close enough that, if she was a stranger, I’d be concerned. ‘Are you spying on Patrick and Elena?’ she asks.

‘What?’

‘Because if you are, you’re not doing a great job of it,’ she says.

‘It’s complicated.’

‘Is it what you said in the car about Patrick arriving in Perth before Felix died? You honestly think he might have been involved?’

I’ve got to start remembering how many conversations Lilia has tagged along for.

‘I don’t want to talk about it,’ I mumble. My suspicions about Patrick are bad enough. To discuss them with Lilia would be a different kind of betrayal.

‘Okay,’ she says, in heryou’re being unreasonablevoice.

A beat.

‘I could go in there,’ Lilia says. ‘I could spy on Patrick and Elena. I don’t think Elena would recognise me, and I can sit behind Patrick.’ I take a look at Lilia, dressed down in her Lorna Jane athleisurewear and (unusually) her glasses, looking like every other basic bitch out for a morning coffee. ‘Plus, Patrick knows how you feel about me. Even if he does see me, he won’t think you’re involved.’

‘Why would you do that?’ I ask.

‘So you can find out what they’re saying without first completing a lip-reading qualification.’

I rephrase my question. ‘I mean, why would you do that for me?’

‘I thought we were in this together now.’

Are we?

‘Plus, you don’t think I owe you?’ Lilia adds.

Obviously.

‘Also, I’m invested now.’

The only reason to say no is to annoy Lilia, which would once have been enough. It’s not anymore. ‘Make it quick,’ I say. ‘Who knows how long they’ll stay.’

Without waiting for her coffee, Lilia jogs around the corner. I hear the front bell jingle, which means she’s inside. I watch through the takeaway window. There’s an unpleasant exchange when a middle-aged woman reaches the table closest to Patrick and Elena at the same time as Lilia. I know Lilia’s default would be to give up the table, but, hey, recent events have shown she can fight for something she really wants. Sure enough, Lilia is victorious, and neither Patrick nor Elena appear to have noticed the minor ruckus.

‘Here you go.’ The barista bangs down my oat mocha and Lilia’s iced coffee and I pick them up. ‘Who’s next?

I have to give up my view of the café to let more customers through.

It’s another twenty minutes before Lilia comes back, rounding the corner with a skip in her step. Both (empty) coffee cups have been abandoned in the bin nearby and my heart feels like it’s opened its own postcode outside my chest.

As Lilia gets closer, she waves her hand at me, like she’s trying to shoo a pigeon away from a café table.