Page 15 of The Dysfunctional Family's Guide to Murder

“Was there?”

“I saw some on my run.” I’m not finished. “If they did break in to rob the place, why kill GG at all instead of just running away?”

“Do you thi—”

“Why was some of her medication missing? Who was smoking in the garden the night she was killed?”

“Ruth, I can’t keep up.”

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” I could really do without Dylanlooking at me likeI’mthe psycho here whenheambushedmein my bedroom.

“It is. I just, sorry, I forget what you’re like sometimes.” He reaches across the expanse of the bed like he’s going to pat my arm or something, then changes his mind. “It’s good—this is why I wanted to talk to you.”

I relax into the bed, trying not to think about the bathrobe thing. “What doyouthink happened, then?”

“Obviously, I don’t know anything.”

“Hence my use of the wordthink.”

“I agree with you. It’s weird that anyone would break into an old farmhouse, unless maybe they were looking for something specific?”

“Like what?”

“Maybe Gertie had a secret stash of cash or jewelry or, uh, a piece of priceless art?”

Dylan looks like he’s waiting for me to take the piss (and I really do think about making a joke involving the creepy figurines being wildly valuable collector’s items), but I’m mostly pleased he’s taking this seriously. It makes me feel less weird for not being curled up in the fetal position, like I’m probably supposed to be. Is it normal for a teenager to be talking about her step-grandmother’s death like it’s a true-crime podcast? I’ve done a few of those Are You a Psychopath? online quizzes and they all say I’m okay, but at times I wonder.

“I don’t know if I see GG as an international jewel thief.”

“It wouldn’t have to be international. Australia has diamond mines.”

“Even so.”

“What did she do before she met your grandad?”

I try to put together the bits of GG’s life I know about. The puzzle is embarrassingly small, the kind of three-piece wooden puzzle you give a two-year-old. “She worked in agriculture, and she must have had some money because she drove a fancy-looking convertible when she and Grandad started going out. But, I dunno, who would have known about any of that?”

“Maybe she had a secret husband she left for your grandad, who came to seek his revenge?”

“He’s your grandad too,” I remind Dylan. “But, no, her first husband died.”

“A child, then, angry at her mum for pissing away her inheritance on a run-down farmhouse?”

“It was a he, and he died too.”

“Or is that just what he wants you to think?” Dylan taps his head and I roll my eyes like this isn’t fun.

“Also,didshe ever spend any money on this place?” I eyeball a long crack in the wall. “I feel like we’re getting off topic.”

“Has your dad said anything to you about any of this?”

“Not really.”

“I thought your mum would have scheduled a Zoom counseling session to Talk It Out by now.”

“I don’t know if Dad has even told her yet. She’s in the middle of nowhere in Tasmania on a hike with Brian.” Brian is Mum’s new husband, who is dull but otherwise fine. “What’s your mum said?”

“She says it’s going to get messy.”