Page 19 of The Dysfunctional Family's Guide to Murder
“There are probably a few ladies in town she was friendly with,” he says eventually. “I can’t remember their names off the top of my head. I’ll have a think, though.”
“Thank you.”
“She used to go to the library,” Aunty Bec says. “She was friendly with one of the librarians. Laura, I think?”
Sasha nods slowly. “Laura, yeah, that sounds right.”
More silence, during which surely everyone is secretly doing the same thing I am: mentally tallying up the list of people who would come tomyfuneral. My family, that’s a gimme.Ali and Libby, too. Tanya from tennis. Sam, who I almost kissed at a party once, might come out of some weird sense of obligation or guilt for turning his head at the last second and mumbling “Maybe not, hey?” Mum and Dad’s friends, probably. It’s a small list, but it sounds like I might be ahead of GG, numbers-wise.
When I tune back in, Sasha is finishing his coffee and saying his goodbyes. Numbers are exchanged, some more thank-yous handed out, and he’s escorted to the front door without me even getting a chance to ask where he was the night of GG’s death and whether he was aware of any priceless artworks/jewels/uncut gems she might have owned. I do get a good look at his profile, though.
Aunty Vinka walks him out to his car and comes back in pretending to fan her face.
“Wowza,” Aunty Bec says.
“Iknow,” Aunty Vinka says, and the two of them collapse into giddy, uncharacteristic laughter. “So hot.”
“Mum!” Dylan gives her a disgusted look and then gives me one too, which is unfair.
“Someone get that guy onFarmer Wants a Wife,” Dad says.
“That’s whatIwas thinking,” I say, and this time Dylan’s look is maybe a little more justified.
“Hey, Ruth,” Aunty Bec says, maybe sensing her son’s growing discomfort and keen to change the subject, “you haven’t seen Shippy this morning, have you?”
“No, why?”
“He was gone when I got up, that’s all.”
Apparently, this is news to Dad. “Where is he?”
“I have no idea, that’s what I’m saying.”
“Reading Tolstoy in a field somewhere, do we think?”
“Thanks,”Aunty Bec says, making it sound like a slap. “Your car is missing too,” she adds, and that makes Dad’s head jerkup.
“What?”
“You did tell us yesterday we could use it if we needed to go into town. I suppose Shippy took you at your word.”
“I was talking toyou.”
“I can’t really imagine where he’d need to go so early. It’s not like he brought his surfboard.”
“Library?” Dad says, overly committed to his bit.
“I can’t decide whether you two genuinely don’t get along or if you’re going to run away together when my back is turned,” Aunty Bec says.
“The latter, definitely. Have you seen his guns?” Dad flexes his own biceps. It’s a bit tragic.
“He didn’t leave a note?” Aunty Vinka asks.
“No.”
“I’m sure he’ll turn up,” Dad says, as though Shippy is the missing half of a pair of socks.
Shippy does turn up, by the way, just not quite as anyoneexpects.
