Page 67 of The Dysfunctional Family's Guide to Murder

“There’s another thing,” Sasha says.

Isn’t there always?

“Did she ever talk to you about her son?”

“A bit,” Dad says. “He died before Gertie met our dad.”

“Her son is still alive,” Sasha says, delivering this knockout line with the gravity it deserves, by which I mean Darth Vader breaking the news to Luke Skywalker.

Dad, Aunty Vinka, and Bec all sputter out versions of “What?” and “Sorry?” and “Are you kidding me?”

“Her son is alive. That’s what she told me.”

“I thought Gertie’s son was dead,” Shippy says, two beats behind as usual.

“That’s what she told everyone,” Sasha says. “She was ashamed of him. He went to prison years ago, and she pretty much disowned him.”

“That’s so sad,” Aunty Vinka says. She’s right, butsadis not the word I’d have used. Not when a new suspect has entered the field.

“It was a long time ago. I think she regretted it, but she didn’t know how to undo it.”

“She never canceled the life-insurance policy,” Aunty Vinka says. “She must have still cared about him, deep down. Don’tyou think?” I’m more tolerant of Aunty Vinka’s tendencies than Dad, but even I feel like this might not be the time for a group-therapy session.

“Gertie’s lawyer said they had no death certificate for her son and that she was still paying the premiums on her life insurance,” Dad says. “I assumed it was a living-in-denial thing and maybe some slack filing by the insurer.”

“There’s one thing I don’t get,” Shippy says, understating reality significantly. “Why did Gertie tellyouall this stuff? No offense, mate, but it seems odd to be going around confiding in some random neighbor and not in her own family.” Everyone is too distracted by this surprisingly valid question to mention that at no point has Shippy himself legitimately been part of GG’s “own family.”

Sasha shrugs, and he looks, in that moment, like exactly the kind of guy in whom you’d confide your secrets. He’s not smiling, but somehow his dimples are popping and he exudes the judgment-free vibe of a school psychologist who has seen it all and no longer has the ability to be shocked. Is it possible he’s even making that stupid sheepskin coat work?

“Maybe it’s easier to confide in someone who isn’t family,” Aunty Vinka suggests.

“That,” Sasha says, “but also, something happened.”

“What?”

“Gertie’s son was getting out of prison. She asked my opinion on what she should do if he came here.”

“Oh.” Dad’s mouth is a perfect circle. “Do you mean…was she worried about it?”

“She was nervous.”

“Have you told this to the cops?”

“Like I said, the police never interviewed me. Plus, I wasn’t sure Gertie would have wanted me to. The police haven’t asked you about any of this?”

“Did the son ever show up here?”

“Not as far as I know.” Sasha stands up. “I’m sorry for the interruption but thought you should know. Look, I have to go, but do you mind if I use the bathroom quickly?”

“What does this mean?” Aunty Vinka asks when Sasha’s gone, lowering her voice in case he can hear from all the way down the hall and behind a closed door.

“Gertie knows how to keep a secret,” Dad says grimly.

“I can’t believe she never told us,” Aunty Vinka says.

“Do you think Dad knew?”

“Shemusthave told him.”