“What’s happening?” Aunty Vinka asks, looking between Shippy and me like one of us is going to explain.
“Sorry,” Dylan pants, a little out of breath, and we’re lucky nobody seems to notice his non sequitur and think to ask who he’s apologizing to and for what.
“Nothing happened,” Shippy says, and he’s obviously trying to clear the air, but this is a guilty-as-hell thing to say.
“I’m okay,” I say.
Aunty Bec arrives then, her eyes going from Dad’s expression to Shippy’s obvious discomfort to me, now shivering on the bed. (It’s the adrenaline wearing off, I suppose, but it feels pathetic.) Nothinghappened.Nothinghappened.
“What’s going on?”
“Nothing happened,” Shippy says again, echoing my thoughts while managing to sound incredibly defensive. “I came in here and Ruth was going through my things.”
“That’s not true.” I’m not lying (a pleasant change for me). Yes, technically, I absolutely went through Shippy’s things. But he’s lying when he said he saw me do it: He’s only deducing (correctly) that I went through his stuff in order to find the letter. “I was looking for…” I don’t know how to end that sentence, so I start a new one: “I found this letter. It’s addressed to GG. I think they know something about GG’s death.”
“Who’sthey?” Dad says, just as Shippy says, “That’s bull.”
I pass Dad the letter, only letting it go reluctantly, and he smooths it out on the bed.
“I don’t know what she’s talking about,” Shippy says. For the first time since he got here, I look at Dylan and there’s a question there, but I can’t tell what it is, so I just shake my head, meaningnot now.Then I look away, because it’s going to be easier to say what I have to say without looking at him.
“They took this letter from GG’s room,” I say, eager to get my story out before Shippy has a chance to tell his.
“Who’sthey?” Dad says again.
“Shippy and Aunty Bec. In GG’s room, uh, they found something—I think it was this letter.”
“Ruth?” That’s Dylan, but I don’t look at him. I can’t.
“What the—” It’s Aunty Vinka, who almost never swears in front of me, even that time Dad nearly severed his thumb with the electric carving knife. (Don’t ever use an electric carving knife.)
“What’s going on?” Aunty Bec asks like she doesn’t know. “What are you saying, Ruth?”
I think about the conversation I heard, trying to get the words right. “I was in GG’s room before and I heard Shippy and Aunty Bec talking. And Aunty Bec said something about Shippy making her do something to a sweet old lady.” I can’t get the sentencethey might have killed herout while Dylan is looking at me with his saucer-plate eyes. “And they took this letter. I’m not totally sure what it is, but I knowhewants it.” I nod at Shippy.
“We weren’t talking about Gertie’s death,” Aunty Bec says.
“Bec!”It’s Shippy, looking furious or hurt or a combination of the two.
“It’s over,” Aunty Bec says, and she sounds tired. “There’s no point.”
“What were you talking about, then?” I ask.
“We were looking for that letter. We thought that if the cops found it, well, it wouldn’t look good for us.”
“You arekidding me,” Dad says loudly, hitting the letter with his open hand, and I know that he’s figured it out too.
“What’s it say?” Aunty Vinka asks, and Dad passes it to her, looking dazed.
“That’s about you?” Dad asks Aunty Bec. She doesn’t say yes but she doesn’t deny it either, which apparently is all the confirmation Dad needs.
“Is anyone going to tell me what’s going on?” Dylan asks, and he might be asking me, but I can’t say a thing.
“It’s bloody…it’sunbelievableis what it is,” Dad says. “You absolute…We’ve got to call the cops. Who has a phone?”
“There’s no reception, Andy,” Aunty Vinka says very gently, not looking up from the letter. Dad is too angry to look embarrassed.
“We didn’thurtanyone,” Aunty Bec says.
