Page 45 of The Dysfunctional Family's Guide to Murder
“I need your help to search GG’s room again.” That shuts him up (but not for long).
“When?” he says after a long beat.
“This morning. Dad’s going into Margaret River. Shippy’s going to the beach. The house will be quiet. If I’m going back to Perth later this afternoon, then I want to look for that box one more time.”
“You really think it’s important?”
“It’s the only lead we have, isn’t it?”
“Are teenagers supposed to haveleads?” I don’t respond to this provocation, just give him the eyebrow treatment until he cracks. “And my role would be?”
“Lookout. You can make sure none of the grown-ups come upstairs, or warn me if they do.”
“What’s my warning, then—hoot like an owl or just scream?”
At the sound of footsteps we both roll back to face the TV.
“Whatcha watching?” Dad asks, hanging over the back of the couch.
“Death on the Nile.There’s an Agatha Christie marathon on ABC.”
“Is this the one where they’re all in on it?”
“That’s the one on a train. This is the one on a boat.”
He watches for a few seconds. “The old one’s better,” he says, and I just shake my head because, to my dad, the old one is always better. I think he genuinely believes that music and film peaked creatively in 1999.
I watch people murder and get murdered on-screen as my family departs around me. Shippy and Rob go first in Aunty Vinka’s car, accompanied by Aunty Bec, who insists she wants some beach air but is probably more invested in making sure Shippy returns. Aunty Vinka crams a floppy hat on her head and sets off for a walk. And then finally Dad leaves for his meeting with GG’s lawyer in Margaret River—though only after checking with me (three times) that I don’t want to go.
“Keep the door locked,” he says. “Aunty Vinka said she won’t be long.”
Dylan and I are alone.
“They’ve all gone out. Surely I can come upstairs too,” he says.
“Lookout is a crucial role.”
“So you be lookout and I’ll take box duty.”
“Seriously, Aunty Vinka’s only gone for a walk; she could be back at any time. Dad could forget his phone and come back for it—he can’t navigate further than the driveway without that thing. Ineedyou, Dylan.”
Dylan rolls his eyes, but the movie is just getting good, so I don’t think he’s that annoyed.
“Fine. Just make sure you tell me what you find.”
“Obviously,” I say. And, when I say it, I have no idea that I’m lying.
15
I knock lightly on GG’sdoor (who do I expect to answer?) before swinging it wide open.
My chest feels tight with anxiety: This might be my only opportunity to be here without people bursting in to ask perfectly valid questions likeWhy are you in GG’s bedroom?andWhat are you looking for?andAre you insane?
I’m regretting not bringing Dylan with me. It would feel like an adventure with him cracking jokes. Solo, it’s harder to forget GG died here. I need the lights on.
The box isn’t back on top of the wardrobe or in it. It’s not behind the curtains or under the dresser.
When I crouch to look under the bed, I can see several boxes, all pushed hard against the wall where my stubby arms can’t reach them. I can’t tell if any of them are the box I want. Why GG would ask me to fetch her a box, only to almost immediately stash it in an inconvenient location, where presumably she would also struggle to reach it, I can’t say. Then again,GG did plenty of weird things, up to and including getting killed with an antique typewriter, so it wouldn’t be the strangest thing she’s ever done.
