Page 83 of A Murder is Going Down

‘It would have been rude not to.’

‘It’s going to be a lot ruder when I won’t let you in the house.’

‘Heidi.’ Lilia’s half-laughing, not sure if I’m joking.

I’m not sure if I am either.

‘Don’tHeidime like we’ve had a minor falling out over cinema etiquette,’ I say.

‘You’re too uptight about the trailers,’ Lilia says.

‘The trailers are … no.’ I stop myself. ‘Don’t distract me – you know that’s my catnip.’

Lilia crosses her arms across her chest.

‘Are we seriously never going to be friends ever again? That’s it? It’s done? OverBen?’ There’s something about the way she says his name that makes me think things might not be as cosy between them as they appear from the outside, but I choose not to fixate on that.

Not now anyway. I’ve gotta save something to obsessover at three a.m. when I can’t sleep. ‘It’s not about Ben,’ I tell her. ‘It’s about you.’

She opens her mouth, then snaps it shut. ‘I recorded their conversation,’ she says, ‘in the café.’ For a moment, I forgot why we were even here. ‘You know, when I was doing you a favour,’ she adds.

‘The going rate for betrayal is twenty minutes of spy work, is it?’

‘Do you want to know what they were talking about or not?’

‘Obviously!’

‘Are you ladies planning on ordering anything else or am I interrupting book club?’ asks the barista, loudly. We take a few steps away so we’re next to my bike.

‘Patrick was really angry,’ Lilia says. ‘He was giving Elena a hard time about something, I couldn’t really tell what. He was saying something likeit’s not that simpleor maybeit’s not that easy. I can’t remember, exactly.’

‘What did Elena say?’

‘She seemed like she was defending herself,’ Lilia says. ‘One of them mentioned you. I think it was Patrick.’

‘What did he say?’ I ask.

‘He said,What about Heidi?’

‘Whataboutme?’

‘I can’t remember everything. It was intense.’ For a moment Lilia gets a look like there’s something she doesn’twant to say. It passes. ‘I’ll send you the recording,’ she said, tapping on her phone to Airdrop it.

I’m so impatient that, when it pops up, I slide in an earbud and hit the play button. The sound in my ear is all clattering forks, buzzing coffee grinders and something barely distinguishable that might be Patrick’s voice. I pull out the earbud. ‘I can barely hear it.’

‘It was kind of noisy in there,’ Lilia says apologetically. Then she perks up. ‘I could try boosting the audio at home.’

Lilia plays in a band. Not a cool band or the kind that play proper gigs; it’s a folk band she’s in with her mum and two of her mum’s fifty-something friends. Because she’s the token gen Z, Lilia handles the tech side of things, so she knows about audio editing and how to operate their garage full of equipment. (I would probably set it on fire if I touched any of it.)

‘I could bring it over tonight?’ she asks, almost shyly.

I shrug. ‘Okay. I’m gonna take off.’ I stick my helmet on my head and swing my leg over my bike.

‘And Heidi?’ Lilia says, as I’m about to push off.

‘Yeah?’

‘Ben wasn’t worth it.’