Then
Let me skip ahead two days, because nothing really happens.
That’s not true, plenty happens: Aunty Sam goes on a Bumble date with a guy called Sadat who looks like Dev Patel (and by that, I do mean he’s too young for her), an exciting new cluster of pimples takes up residence on my chin, and Patrick continues to ignore every single attempt I make to engage him in the mystery of Felix’s death.
I replay the moment he said he wished I could go to the movie with him so many times that I start to think it never happened.
Aunty Sam institutes family movie nights, and we watch an old musical together. (People really went nuts for tap-dancing for a while there, didn’t they?)
But two days is how long it takes me to get hold of Jade and Haruto and set up a time for us to meet.
Patrick tries to wriggle out of the visit – ‘Everyone knows verbal contracts don’t count’ – but it’s a half-hearted attempt and he stops entirely when I threaten, again, to go by myself. It’s a relief.
I don’t tell Patrick that Lilia’s coming too until she knocks at our door.
‘Lilia,’ Patrick says with his mouth full of the marmalade toast he’s holding in one hand.
‘Patrick,’ she says, matching his tone.
He turns to me, sitting on the couch. ‘Do I invite her in?’
‘She’s not a vampire, Patrick,’ I say. ‘At least not literally. And she’s coming with us.’
‘Is she?’ Patrick looks at me in a way I can’t unpack, but I’m enjoying being the one with secrets, so I don’t give him anything.
Lilia and I have messaged a couple of times since my weak moment. Without Patrick to talk to, it’s been nice to have someone to bounce things off, even if that someone is my backstabbing former bestie. (Also, she didn’t even suggest inviting Ben when I told her she could come, so that’s something.)
Jade and Haruto live in the city, which is an easy bus ride from Mount Lawley. I don’t think anyone misses Ben or his mum’s car.
The first sign that Patrick has retained any interest in the investigation he started comes when we get off the bus. ‘So, Mabel Mora, what are you going to ask them?’ he asks me as we walk.
The name takes me a sec. ‘Only Murders in the Building?’
‘Uh huh.’
‘I like that show.’
‘I knew you would.’
‘Me too,’ Lilia says and instead of ignoring her, like I would have days ago, I give her the tiniest and coldest of smiles.
A little shard of a smile that could be taken to mean yes, it’s a great show we could watch together one day perhaps or just as easily I’d like to murder you in a building, actually.
‘So?’ Patrick says.
‘I’m going to ask them what happened that night,’ I say.
‘Just like that?’
‘We’ve done this before,’ I remind him. ‘I’m a pro.’ I pull my best Haunted By My Brother’s Death face.
‘And they know we’re coming?’
‘Of course.’
‘Why are they even home on a weekday? Shouldn’t they be at work?’
‘It’s school holidays for Haruto. I don’t know, they said they could be home today, so here we are.’
‘With Lilia.’ Patrick widens his eyes at me, wanting a reaction, but I only smile. That will piss him off.
We’re passing a corner shop when Lilia stops. ‘We should get biscuits,’ she says.
‘What?’
‘If we turn up with biscuits, they’ll feel compelled to feed them to us and we’ll get to stay at least as long as it takes for us to eat them,’ she says. This is Psychological Warfare 101. ‘Stay here, I’ll run in.’
‘Who got you Sun Tzu for Dummies?’ Patrick calls after Lilia as she disappears into the shop. ‘It’s not a bad idea,’ Patrick says to me, ‘but I’m prepared to hate it, if that would help you.’
‘It’s fine.’
‘You and Lilia seem friendlier?’ His voice doesn’t go up at the end, but I still think it’s a question.
‘We’ve been talking a bit, about the Felix stuff.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Patrick says.
‘For what? Threatening to choose Nosferatu for our next family movie or burning my toast this morning?’
‘You love horror movies.’
‘We’ve been over this – vampires are a sub-genre.’
‘Actually, I meant sorry for getting you involved in this.’
‘There’s no need to get all sincere about it.’
‘I’m trying to apologise.’
‘You’re apologising for the wrong thing. You should be apologising for wussing out.’
‘Heidi,’ Patrick says, but it’s a whole sentence.
‘Patrick,’ I say. ‘You started this. Just because you’ve lost interest doesn’t mean I have.’
Patrick seems like he’s trying to decide what to say, which is usually an excellent sign that someone’s about to lie. And why not, really? Almost everyone else in my life keeps secrets. I don’t know why Patrick would be different.
‘Why do you care so much anyway?’ Patrick asks. ‘You were never close to Felix and he was a dick. I heard what Adam said about the bruises on Elena’s arms, by the way. Do you think that was Felix?’
‘I don’t know,’ I say. ‘Felix and I never braided each other’s hair, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to know what happened to him. Can’t you think how you’d feel if Elena or Michael died suddenly?’
‘But they’re great and Felix was a piece of …’
‘You can finish that thought.’
‘No, I really can’t.’
‘I know he wasn’t a good guy,’ I say.
‘Right.’
‘But he was my brother.’
‘Sorry, I didn’t even know Felix well. He just seemed … not like you.’ His eyes drift towards the deli. (How much time does it take to buy a packet of biscuits?)
‘What does that mean?’
I’m expecting a joke, but Patrick takes the question seriously. ‘I always felt like Elena was scared of him,’ he says softly.
I don’t say anything.
‘Were you ever scared of him?’ he asks.
‘I—’ is as far as I get before Lilia appears, clutching a packet of Tim Tams.
‘Sorry, I couldn’t decide between double coat and caramel,’ she says. ‘We ready to go?’ When neither of us says anything, she repeats the question.
‘Sorry, yeah,’ Patrick says. ‘I only had one coffee this morning, I’m still technically asleep.’
‘How many do you normally have?’ I ask.
‘Three.’
‘God, Patrick. How does your body function?’
‘Magnificently.’
We hurry along the street and I’m surprised by how cold the wind is.
Wasn’t it summer just a moment ago? I’m wishing I’d brought a jumper when Patrick pulls one out of his messenger bag and puts it on without breaking his stride.
(It’s quite impressive if you, like me, have ever walked into a traffic light while trying to button up a cardigan.)
‘Why are you looking at me like that?’ Patrick asks, as he turns the jumper up at the cuffs.
‘That’s my jumper.’
‘This.’ He looks down. ‘No, it’s mine … I think? Isn’t it mine?’
The jumper is grey with little specky black sparkly bits. Lilia bought it for my birthday last year. On me, it’s oversized. On Patrick … it’s still oversized. He’s a skinny guy.
‘Oh, shit, this is not my jumper,’ Patrick says. ‘Sorry. I have one like this but less … sparkly.’
‘It’s the sparkles that make it work for you.’
‘Do you want me to take it off? Am I making you jealous by how good it looks on me?’
‘Just wash it later, that’s all I ask. I love that jumper.’
Lilia meets my eyes, and I know she remembers where it came from too.
Jade and Haruto’s house is a limestone oasis in a sea of office buildings and dermatology clinics.
It’s the kind of worker’s cottage that might once have belonged to a working-class family but now requires two partners on six-figure salaries to have a chance at owning it.
A thrum of bees comes from the small native garden as we walk through the gate, and our knock is answered so quickly it’s hard not to imagine the pair of them were standing behind the door waiting for us.
Jade surprises me by being gorgeous: straight black hair cut into a lob, a slash of red lipstick.
She’s wearing some kind of green silk pants with a matching top that would make me look like I was still in my pyjamas, but she looks like she runs a covert whisky bar.
In the 1930s. Next to her, Haruto is so nondescript that by the time I’ve looked at him from head to toe, I’ve forgotten what his face looks like.
If I’d had to pick one of them to have an affair with, it wouldn’t have been him.
‘You must be Patrick and Heidi,’ Jade says. ‘I’m so sorry for your loss.’
Haruto takes Patrick’s hand to shake. ‘I can really see the family resemblance,’ he says kindly. ‘I’m so sorry about your brother.’
‘Heidi is Felix’s sister,’ Jade corrects before I have to, and he pivots, literally, to shake my hand too.
‘Of course,’ he says, blushing so furiously it’s endearing. ‘You look a lot like him, too.’
I think I already like Haruto. That doesn’t mean he’s not a potential murderer.
Lilia pops out like a cuckoo from a clock behind Patrick. ‘I’m Lilia, a family friend,’ she says.
There’s another round of nice to meet you’s and Haruto doesn’t claim that Lilia is also the spitting image of Felix, which is a relief.
We settle on a velvet couch in the living room, where Lilia produces the biscuits, Haruto brings out a pot of tea on a tray, and I contemplate sucking the slightly bitter tea through my Tim Tam.
Jade tells us what she remembers about the night Felix died and it is a familiar story.
Haruto chimes in occasionally but seems otherwise content to let his wife lead the conversation.
All the while I’m peppering him with micro-glances, trying to imagine how this pleasant, pudding-faced guy has managed to get a wife and a boyfriend, while I can’t even hold on to the one not-so-great boyfriend I had.
Haruto doesn’t seem nervous that we might know about him and Adam or, if he is, he doesn’t show it.
That might mean nothing, or it might mean he’s an accomplished liar.
I file that bit of information away in the part of my brain where I keep all the important stuff, like flags of the world and my childhood phone number.