THEN
When I get home from our spot of Entering (hold the Breaking), there’s a man on the couch with Aunty Sam and Patrick. (I circled the block to avoid arriving thirty seconds behind him, because Patrick is not as fast a walker as he thinks.)
Even if I didn’t already know to expect Michael, I would have known he was related to Patrick and Elena.
He has Patrick’s eyes and bone structure and Elena’s dark brown hair.
He’s also wearing a pair of high-waisted pleated pants that could only be pulled off by an elderly man or a hot twenty-something-year-old guy into menswear.
He falls into the latter category on account of his extreme handsomeness.
(He’s an actor, so I guess a certain gorgeousness is to be expected.)
Elena comes in from the kitchen, a bottle of wine and three glasses resting on her lap. ‘Heidi,’ she says. ‘You’re back too. Have you already met my brother Michael?’
Patrick, reclining on the couch, smiles at me and says, ‘Hey, Heidi. Long time no see.’ Like we weren’t hiding under a desk together an hour ago.
I give him a you’re too much glare.
‘I’m Michael,’ says Michael unnecessarily.
‘Heidi,’ I say, just as unnecessarily. ‘Nice to meet you.’
‘I think we met at the wedding,’ Michael says, ‘but you spent most of it under the table with my little bro.’
‘I knew I recognised him from somewhere,’ I say, but only Patrick laughs.
‘Michael’s just flown in today,’ Elena says. ‘He’s been in a play.’
‘You’re an actor.’
‘Just barely,’ Michael says.
‘Modesty doesn’t suit you. I’m amazed your fans aren’t hiding in the garden with a long-lens camera yet,’ Elena says.
Michael offers up an eye roll that’s big enough for the cheap seats. ‘Without you, El, my ego might actually fit through the door.’
‘If it helps, you look like shit,’ Patrick says.
Michael only grins. ‘I’ve been crammed into a plane seat for five hours. What’s your excuse?’
That’s when I notice the small suitcase on which he’s resting his feet, a ripped luggage tag hanging from the handle.
‘Where are you staying?’ Elena asks, before Patrick can reply.
‘Hotel in the city. There are twin beds, so Patrick can stay there too,’ Michael says.
I look at Patrick, to whom this is obviously news. I shouldn’t care, but our investigation is going to be a lot harder if Patrick’s not living here. He looks at me like he’s thinking the same thing.
‘If you think that’s best,’ Patrick says with a look at Aunty Sam to make sure she’s listening. ‘It’s been nice staying here, though.’
Who says Michael is the only actor in this family? Aunty Sam, predictably, leaps at the bait. ‘You’ll stay here, of course,’ she says to Michael. ‘Elena needs her family around her at a time like this.’
‘It’s fine,’ Michael says politely. ‘I’ve made the booking.’
‘I insist,’ Aunty Sam says.
‘Honestly, there’s no need.’
‘We’re all family now.’
Michael shoots Elena a desperate sort of look, but she shakes her head, like there’s no point in fighting it.
‘It might be nice to stay here all together,’ Patrick says, and Michael looks like there’s a knife handle with Patrick’s fingerprints on it sticking out of his back.
‘Then thank you.’ He just about manages to sound gracious and Aunty Sam beams. ‘I’m so sorry about your brother, Heidi,’ Michael says. ‘I should have said that first.’
‘Thanks. Did you ever meet him? Wait, of course you did, at the wedding.’
‘Then, and I saw him when I came back to see El a couple of times since.’ He grins at his sister.
‘Do you come to Perth much?’ I ask. If there was a family reunion, I was never invited.
‘Couple of times since the wedding. Mostly El came to Melbourne.’
‘You know what your brother was like,’ Elena says to me, as though she understands what I’m thinking. ‘He liked to keep his family and my family siloed.’
‘He wouldn’t be happy about this, then,’ I say, trying to make it sound like a joke.
Everyone laughs the exact appropriate amount, which is barely at all.
The landline rings (praise be to the phone gods!) and Aunty Sam gets up to answer it.
‘Thanks for doing the heavy lifting in the sibling department,’ Michael says to Patrick. ‘Not bad for a zygote.’
‘I’m sixteen. In some countries, I could get married,’ Patrick says loftily.
‘Really?’ Michael looks alarmed. ‘Who are you marrying? If you’re back together with that daft redhead who threw out my salami, I’m going to throw you out.’
‘I’m talking theoretically. Also, Amanda took veganism very seriously.’
(This is me adjusting my assumptions about Patrick’s sexuality accordingly.)
‘Well, you’re theoretically making me regret saying anything nice to you at all. Have you been well behaved?’ Michael asks.
‘When am I not?’ Patrick says.
‘Constantly.’
‘How long have you guys lived together?’ I ask, because this sibling banter is at risk of turning into sibling bickering.
‘When Mum died, Michael and Elena moved back home to save me from the prospect of living with Uncle Alex and Aunt Olive,’ Patrick says.
‘That’s kind of sweet.’
‘Then Elena got swept off her feet by your brother and moved over here.’
‘Sorry,’ I say, not sure why I’m apologising for my brother.
‘Patrick and I will have to go back to Melbourne pretty soon – the Victorian school term starts up next week,’ Michael says.
‘I don’t think there’s any urgency,’ Patrick says.
‘I’m sure you don’t,’ Michael says. ‘Sucks for you that I’m your legal guardian, doesn’t it?’
‘Elena needs me here,’ Patrick says.
‘Elena can come back with us if she wants.’
‘Not until the insurance stuff is sorted,’ Patrick says.
‘Patrick,’ Elena says.
‘What?’
‘It’s very sweet that you want to help, but Michael’s right – you need to go to school,’ Elena says. ‘Mum will haunt us from the grave if we let you half-arse Year 11. I’m fine.’
‘You’re not fine. You might be broke.’
‘Sorry, what?’ Michael asks.
‘If the cops think Felix killed himself, Elena won’t get any money from his life insurance,’ Patrick says.
‘Did Felix kill himself?’ Michael asks, then looks at me. ‘Sorry. Should we be talking about this?’
‘It’s okay,’ I say.
‘We don’t think he killed himself,’ Patrick says. ‘I just can’t see it.’
‘I thought it was an accident,’ Michael says.
‘Or the other thing,’ Patrick says.
Michael laughs, but it’s not a proper laugh. ‘Murder?’
‘People do get murdered, you know,’ Patrick says.
‘But by who? And why?’ Michael seems half-amused, half-horrified. He and Elena exchange a what the fuuuu look. Having to parent your little brother must kind of suck sometimes.
‘I don’t know,’ Patrick says. Then he says the thing I really wish he wouldn’t. ‘That’s what we’re trying to find out.’
‘Who’s we?’ Elena asks.
‘What?’
‘You said that’s what we’re trying to find out.’
Patrick is clearly trying hard not to look at me, but I can’t pretend I don’t know what they’re talking about.
‘Me and Patrick,’ I say, and heads turn my way so fast that I regret everything. ‘But we’re not really a we or an investigation,’ I add, possibly making it worse. ‘We’re worried that you’ll be left without anything, Elena, so we thought we could, uh … poke around.’ Cue flaming red cheeks.
Elena looks at me and her expression is so unguardedly touched that, for a moment, I want to cry.
‘You’re very kind,’ she says, smiling at me before offering Patrick a watered-down version.
‘But, guys, please stay out of it. The police will figure out what happened, even if that means that I miss out on some money.’
‘It’s not fair for you to get nothing,’ Patrick says.
‘I’m not sure life is supposed to be fair,’ Elena says, and I wonder if I’m the only one looking at her wheelchair.
‘We’ve already found out some things,’ Patrick says.
‘What?’ Elena asks.
I’m wondering the same thing.
‘One of the guys who was at the house the night Felix died – I had a chat to him at the party the other day and he—’
Michael interrupts. ‘You’re having parties?’
‘It was really more like a salon,’ Aunty Sam says.
‘It was for Heidi to meet some of Felix’s friends,’ Elena says, then gives me a look that makes me think she’s no longer so sure about that.
‘Anyway,’ Patrick says loudly, ‘I talked to him about what Felix was like that night and he said something kind of interesting.’
‘Which was?’ Michael says.
‘He said Felix was talking about wanting to go to the movies.’
‘And?’
‘If he was making plans to go to the movies, would he really have killed himself?’ Patrick looks at me like he wants to know what I think.
What I think is that if Felix was planning to kill himself – and I’m not convinced that he was – then he’d hardly broadcast the fact.
I’ve read that people planning suicide can seem happy before they do it because they have a plan.
I don’t say any of this, just like I don’t ask Elena if she’s having an affair.
Michael shakes his head. ‘Patrick, let it go,’ he says. ‘Our sister needs us to be her support system, not collecting cigarette butts from the stoop in case it’s a clue.’
‘What’s a stoop?’ Aunty Sam asks the wine in her glass. ‘I’ve heard the word, but I’ve never quite understood it. Is it just a step?’
‘Then there’s my phone,’ Patrick goes on. (I don’t think he knows what a stoop is either.)
‘What is it about your phone? I texted you, like, ten times today and you didn’t get back to me,’ Michael says.
‘It was stolen,’ Patrick says. ‘I’m going to have to buy a cheapo replacement off Facebook Marketplace and probably get stabbed in a car park while I’m making the exchange.’
‘I’m sure it’s not stolen,’ Aunty Sam says. ‘Did it have a passcode on it?’
‘When did your phone get stolen?’ Michael asks at the same time and it’s this question Patrick answers.
‘At the party – sorry, salon. But only after Heidi and I took pictures of the house and the area where Felix fell or was pushed,’ Patrick says.
‘You what?’ Aunty Sam asks, looking at me. ‘Heidi?’
‘Patrick took the photos,’ I say, a little disloyally. ‘But you’re the one who told me to go out there to get Elena’s clothes and stuff.’
‘I just didn’t realise the two of you went out there together,’ Aunty Sam says, sounding angrier than the moment deserves.
‘Do you think you might have misplaced the phone?’ Elena asks Patrick.
Patrick shakes his head. ‘I’ve rung it and it’s turned off.’
‘Dead battery?’ Michael says.
Patrick shakes his head again. ‘Someone took it,’ he says. ‘And if that’s not proof that somebody, for whatever reason, doesn’t want me nosing around this whole crime scene, then I don’t know what is.’
‘I don’t know, Patrick. You do lose a lot of things,’ Elena says. ‘Like my iPad.’
‘That was five years ago. Seriously?’
‘Your iPad?’ She goes on.
‘They’re slippery little suckers.’ Patrick sounds defensive.
‘My iPhone,’ Michael says, joining the pile-on.
‘Actually, I sold that one.’
‘What?’
‘It was after you broke my bike. Got fifty bucks for it on Gumtree.’
Elena leans forward to refill the adults’ glasses with the dregs of the wine, although hers looks untouched.
‘You know,’ she says thoughtfully, ‘from time to time I wonder what it’d be like if we all lived together in the same city again.
’ She gestures at her brothers. ‘And now I get a glimpse of what an utter shitshow it would, in fact, be.’
I choose that moment to excuse myself and go to my room.