Page 25 of The Dysfunctional Family's Guide to Murder
“So, the motive is money?” I say.
“It’s the obvious one.”
“I agree.”
“Why’s Nick on your list?”
“Everyone’s a suspect.”
“But he was in the hospital.”
“Only with a broken leg. He could have snuck out, called an Uber, come here, killed GG—”
“Sorry I asked.”
“—and got back to the hospital without anyone noticing he’d gone.”
The door opens and I yelp, but it’s only Dad with a mug of tea and a plate with two chocolate cookies on it. He clicks on the overhead light, then stops so abruptly when he sees Dylan that the tea sloshes over the rim of the mug.
“Sorry, mate, didn’t know you were here. Ruth, I thought you might want some tea?”
“Thanks.” I quickly click my phone to turn the screen dark.
“The kettle’s just boiled if you want one, Dylan.”
“I’m good,” Dylan says, although I’m not a hundred percentsure Dad was offering. I take the mug, the plate, and then the opportunity.
“Hey, Dad, what time did you go to bed the night GG died?”
“Ten or ten-thirty, I think. Why?”
“Were the others in bed?”
“Heading that way, but why?”
“Did you check on GG before you went to bed?”
“Yeah.” He gives me a look that says his patience with this interrogation is over.“Why?”
“Just asking.”
I wait for Dad to mention that he got out of his bed for some reason, but he’s frowning at the flickering overhead light.
“How long has that been happening?”
“Um, I dunno. A day?”
“This house is falling apart.”
Once Dad’s gone, I pick up my phone and type:Dad first to bed at 10/10:30 p.m. GG alive and well.
Dylan leans in to read the screen. “You’re taking his word forit?”
“What?”
“That Gertie was still alive when he went to bed.”
“Yeah.”
