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I CALLED MYbrother Sam from the ladies’ bathroom, leaning my forehead on the mirror. I knew that he’d probably be teaching his classes at the university, but I dialed anyway.

“What’s up?” he answered.

“I’m in crisis mode,” I said. “I need a friendly voice.”

I explained the situation in a long, rambling stream. In the background of the call I could hear students rumbling through the halls of the university.

“Being partnered up with this guy—is it going to make solving the case difficult?”

“The case should be fine, but my social standing might take a hit.”

He laughed. I’d never had many friends to begin with, and he knew that. I was a loner. Hardly a cheerful spirit. I forgot people’s birthdays and didn’t turn up to work drinks. None of my colleagues tried to set me up on dates. They knew a romantic train wreck when they saw one.

“If I stick with him too long, I might have to start chewing my lunch more carefully,” I continued.

“Cops,” Sam said. “All that ancient brotherhood bullshit.”

“I can see where everyone’s coming from.” I sighed. “I mean, apart from what he’s supposed to have done, the guy is also a world-class arrogant dickhead.”

I told Sam about his treatment of Claudia’s body, about how he’d spoken to her parents.

“He might just be out of practice on his behavior with other people, if he’s such an outcast. He might have genuinely forgotten how people are supposed to talk to each other,” Sam suggested.

“You always think the best of people,” I said. “I don’t know how. I’m about ready to kill him.”

“Well, that might make things messier.”

“You may be the only man I’m not prepared to strangle right now,” I told him. “That detective Nigel Spader caught me at the door to the case room. I didn’t even get a peek.”

“Ah yes, I’ve met that one. He was here yesterday doing interviews of the faculty, trying to find out if we know anything about the Georges River girls,” Sam said. “I think we’re booked in for second interviews today. Two of the victims were students here.”

“Second interviews?”

“A couple of us, yeah,” he said. “I don’t know why.”

“Weird. Were the victims students of yours?”

“No.” He sighed. “But some of my students were friends with them. A girl rushed out of my morning class yesterday, crying. It’s hard to know what to say.”

My stomach felt mildly unsettled. I put the phone on speaker and washed my face under the tap.

“Tell me how the second interview goes,” I told Sam. I convinced myself it was just the stress of the new case and my new partner making me sick. If I kept on track, it would go away.

As I’d find often in my life, I should have listened to what my instincts were telling me.