Page 12 of The Dysfunctional Family's Guide to Murder

“What do you mean?”

“Gertie’s biggest asset is this place, and that’s being split between me and Vinka. We went through all this with Dad’s lawyer after he died.”

“Bec didn’t tell you?” Shippy reenters the chat just when I’m starting to think he passed out.

“Shippy.”

“Bec, what is he talking about?”

“Gertie told Bec she…getting an equal share,” Shippy says.

“What?”

“Didn’t she?”

“You…tell them?”

“Mum, what’s he talking about?”

“Bec?”

“Should we be talking about this?”

Are you following this? Me neither.Ishould at least be able to tell who’s saying what, because I know everyone’s voices, but, honestly, I kind of tune out while trying to digest what Shippy’s just said: I definitely heard the wordsequal share,which would mean…well, what would it mean? I should probably be listening if I want to find out. I tune back in when Aunty Bec starts talking and everyone else shuts up for two seconds.

“Gertie and I had a talk,” Aunty Bec says. “She told me that now that I’m part of the family, she changed her will to split the estate evenly. She told me it’s what, uh, your dad. Our dad. What he would have wanted.”

Gertie changed her will just before she died? This is a big deal. I don’t really believe in using exclamation points ever since my English teacher once told me it was like laughing at your own joke (turns out she was quoting someone else), but if I did I’d be using them here! Like this!

“That’s great,” Aunty Vinka says, too late to pass off as a spontaneous reaction. “Youshouldget an equal share, Bec. Just because you’re a half sibling doesn’t mean anything.”

“Of course you should,” Dad says quickly, probably annoyed he didn’t get to say it first. “I’m just confused about why Gertie didn’t tell us. Or why you didn’t tell us.”

“I was going to. I didn’t realize it would be an issue quite so quickly.”

“That’s great,” Aunty Vinka says again, too loudly. “It’s not like any of us would ever challenge the will anyway.” The wordschallenge the willdo a lap of the room.

“Did you tell the police about the will?” Dad asks.

“No, I didn’t think about it. Why?”

There’s another silence, and if these guys don’t stop it with the awkward silences and the long, uncomfortable pauses, my bath is going to flood the entire house and I won’t be held responsible. At the same time, I get it. I mean: Wouldyouwant to be the one who points out to Aunty Bec that the police need to know that she’s just added herself to the list of people who had a motive to kill GG?

“Where are you going?”

“I need some water. Anyone else?”

At some point in my adventures in eavesdropping I’ve crept out from behind the lamp so I’m nearly standing in the kitchen door. Hearing Dad’s footsteps, I have just enough time to spring back behind the lamp before he comes into the kitchen. I should go. But if I leave now, I’ll never know what else the adults are thinking. Dylan could surely be persuaded to tell me later, but he’ll miss the nuance. Dad won’t tell me anything; he’d be happy if I believed GG was just taking an extended nap.

The fridge door opens with thesuuuucknoise it always makes.

“Did Gertie take her meds last night?” Dad calls through to the living room.

“No, remember it was a whole thing,” Aunty Bec shouts back.

“Did she change her mind, though?”

“Why?”