Page 49 of The Dysfunctional Family's Guide to Murder

Everyone looks at me.

“Robert had a piece of paper with this address in his wallet,” Detective Peterson says, talking to me and not Dad, which makes me like her. “Good question,” she adds, which makes me like her even more.

“That’s weird,” I say, probably pushing it.

“I was going to ask if you wrote down the address for Robert when you left him at the beach, Matthew?” I look around to figure out who she’s talking to before I realize it’s Shippy, who’s shaking his head before the question is finished. I guess I knewShippycouldn’t be his first name, but how did I never know it wasMatthew?

“Yeah, nah, he knew how to get back here.”

“Did he say how he was going to make it back?”

“He said he’d grab a lift with a friend.”

“Did he give you the friend’s name?”

“I dunno that he meant anyone in particular. He knows a lot of people.”

“Did he seem himself when you left him on the beach?”

“Sure, but I barely know him.”

“He didn’t mention anything odd to you? Being stressed? Having somewhere to be?”

“No.” But Shippy makes a face. “He was a bit skint, maybe.”

“He was having money troubles?”

“Just an impression I got. Like, he was kind of obsessed with how big this place was and how much it was worth. It was a bit off.”

“What does he do for a living?”

“I think he said he’s a joiner, but he didn’t seem to be working at the moment.”

“Right.” The detective writes that down, and I wonder if she, like me, is trying to remember what a joiner does. (It’s got to be something to do with…carpentry, right?)

When it’s time for our alibis (the cops never actually say this, but it’s obvious what they’re after), I tell the truth. Mostly. My only lie is of omission. I tell the police I was home all afternoon. True. I tell them I watched a movie with Dylan. Also true. I do not volunteer any details about my foray to GG’sroom, but if they’d asked me specifically “did you happen to go into your late step-grandmother’s room and overhear a potentially incriminating conversation, the implications of which you’re still grappling with?” I wouldn’t have lied. At least, I don’t think I would have lied.

Everyone else gives their answers: Aunty Vinka was out walking and then in her room, supposedly working on her artisanal-soap business plan but probably just napping; Dad was in Margaret River with GG’s lawyer; Aunty Bec was with Shippy, first at the beach and later back at the house. They make it sound like dropping Rob off at the beach and coming back to the house was always the plan, which maybe it was? Dylan was here. I can vouch for him, at least: He never left the house.

I’m not the only one who notices the wholewhere were you the night ofvibe.

“Thisisjust an accident, right?” Dad asks. “It doesn’t have anything to do with Gertie’s death?”

“We’re not ruling anything out at this stage.”

“Okay.” Dad seems to find that as reassuring as I do. “Were there any witnesses?”

“We will be putting out an appeal for anyone to come forward.” That’s not a no.

“What was Rob even doing on the road? Was he walking home?” Dad prods.

“We’re not ruling anything out.”

“Right.”

“Did Robert know your stepmother, Gertie?”

“No,” Aunty Vinka says right away. Then she corrects herself. “Not that I know of. She died before we even met Rob. I guess it’s possible they might know each other, but it’s hard to imagine them being friends.”