Page 91 of The Dysfunctional Family's Guide to Murder
But there’s no shot and nothing happens for a few seconds until Detective Peterson emerges, absolutely legging it toward us, shouting something I can’t understand. She’s probably still twenty meters away by the time she’s audible.
“First aid kit!” she shouts at us. “In my car!” Still holding me, Dad stumbles in that direction, but he’s moving so slowly she’ll overtake him before he gets there. “Better make it two ambulances,” she says into the radio held in one cupped hand. “Our suspect has sustained a snakebite.”
30
There’s no tea. Somehow overthe course of the past few days we’ve drained the farmhouse dry, not just of proper tea but of Aunty Vinka’s disgusting herbal stuff too. This turns out to be a good thing, since one of the policemen summoned by Detective Peterson boils up a batch of hot chocolate on the stove, using a jar of chocolate powder that’s been hiding at the back of the pantry all this time. Everyone takes a mug, and a packet of gingersnaps (seriously, there weregingersnapsin the house?) is passed around. The double sugar hit feels restorative.
We’re mostly all here, gathered around the table, including Bec and Shippy, who arrived in the other car two minutes too late to be of any help at all. Detective Peterson has stayed behind to take some preliminary statements (her words) from us all. She’s not such a badass that she’s doing this while bleeding all over the floor or anything: She was wearing a bulletproof vest when Sasha shot her, and so she has only a gross red lumpjust under her collarbone that will rule out spaghetti-strap sleeves for a week.
Sasha was last seen in the back of an ambulance, which turned on both its lights and sirens this time. Do people still die of snakebites, I wanted to know only a few days earlier. I don’t know it yet, but they do, and Sasha is one of the unlucky ones. He’s that Body Number Two I promised you, or he will be pretty soon.
Nick and his suspected broken arm took the second ambulance, and he waved Aunty Vinka away (figuratively, not literally) when she offered to go with him. The paramedics were buddies from his last hospital stint, apparently. “Alex and Sarah will take care of me—we’re watchingYellowjacketstogether” were his last words before the doors shut (not last words as in he’s going to die—don’t worry, he’ll be fine).
“You must be wondering why I turned up,” Detective Peterson says to Dad, who looks blank because he really hasn’t had time to think about that: He’s been too busy apologizing for leaving me and Dylan alone. I’m trying to enjoy it because he’s not going to be nearly so sympathetic when he learns I tried to bait a would-be murderer into a confession.
“Did you find out about Sasha being in prison with Rob, I mean Martin?” I ask, for once not showing off but genuinely curious. All the faces in the room turn in my direction, embarrassingly catching me trying to dunk the last chunk of cookie into my hot chocolate and losing my grip.
“That’s right,” Detective Peterson says, giving me an X-ray of a glance. “I came here to ask you all how much you knewabout Gertie’s son and got a bit of a surprise when I looked through the window and saw Sasha holding a gun.”
“Agun?” says Dad.
The X-ray intensifies. “But how didyouknow about Martin and Sasha, Ruth?”
The blush starts at my neck, but I ignore it. I figured this out and I’d like to get some credit for it.
“I knew that GG’s son was still alive, so—”
“Sorry, GG is Gertrude?”
“Yeah, that’s just what I called her.”
“Go on.”
“So, uh, I knew that GG’s son was still alive because Sasha told us he was and Laura at the library confirmed it.”
“I know about that.”
“We didn’t figure out that Sasha was in prison with GG’s son until we saw the video, but it makes sense.”
Silence. Then: “Sorry, did you say video?”
Oops. I meant to save that bit for later. Or maybe I should have opened with it.
“GG recorded a video the night she died,” I say, feeling exhausted at the prospect of trying to explain it all and (almost) wishing Dylan would step in and take over. “It actually, uh, I was going to tell you all, of course, but it shows everything that happened that night.” I explain about the video GG made for her son and the money she’d been sending him via Sasha, all over a chorus of “What?” and “Are you kidding?” and “How am I just hearing this now?” When I do the big reveal about how GG died, there’s a long beat of silence. Obviously, now, I can see I should have opened with this.
Aunty Vinka starts to cry with what I assume is relief.
“Where is this phone now?” Detective Peterson asks.
“She was trying to lift the typewriter down?” Dad says, and there’s not really anything I can say to him about that. Too late I realize my dad might be the most responsible of any of us for what happened. If he’d taken the typewriter downstairs like GG had asked, presumably so she could give it to Sasha to pass on to Rob/Martin, GG might still be alive. I let him put his arm around me, but that’s as close as I get to telling him it’s not his fault. Parents get to lie to kids all the time, but I don’t think it really works in reverse.
“Whereisthis phone?” Detective Peterson asks again. “And why didn’t you bring it to us immediately?”
“We only found it last night,” Dylan says, and heads whip around to him too.
“You knew about this?” Bec asks her son.
“You’re really going to give me a hard time about keeping secrets?”
