“Slow down or you’ll be sick,” Nova said.
“I have some water too,” Phyllis said, producing a plastic bottle.
Michael grabbed it and took several long gulps until the thing was empty. Then he leaned back against the wall behind him, closing his eyes as he caught his breath.
“Right, now you’ve had something to eat, it’s time to start talking,” Phyllis said. “The police think you committed murder and then ran away with the stolen money, but we know that’s not the truth. Is this all Cynthia’s doing, and she’s been holding you here against your will?”
“What?” Michael croaked.
“There’s no point trying to lie to us. You can’t protect Cynthia now.”
“Phyllis, slow down a minute,” Nova said, elbowing the woman before she could launch into any more accusations. “Michael, did you come here alone, or did someone bring you?”
“Alone.”
“So, you weren’t kidnapped, then?” Phyllis interjected.
“No!” Michael looked at Nova. “Why would she ask that?”
“So, you’re saying you came here willingly,” Phyllis said, and Nova could see the woman recalibrating her theory as she spoke. “Are you hiding out here because of the murder?”
“What murder?” He looked at Nova imploringly. “What the hell is she talking about?”
“Don’t play naive,” Phyllis said. “You know as well as I do that either you or Cynthia killed your mother the night you ran away.”
Finally, Michael looked at Phyllis, his face twisted with confusion. “My mother?”
“Was it you? You clearly have mummy issues, given your rant inthe book club. Or was it Cynthia in order to get her hands on the inheritance?”
“My mum…Mum’s dead?” Michael blinked several times and then Nova watched as his face slowly crumpled. A second later, a rumbling moan escaped from his mouth.
“Oh God,” Nova hissed, turning to Phyllis. “He didn’t know!”
Phyllis was staring at him, her nose wrinkled. “He’s acting.”
Nova looked back to Michael, whose head had dropped onto his knees, his whole body racking with sobs.
“Michael, are you okay?”
In response, he let out another wail of grief. Nova crouched down so she was at his level, but didn’t say anything else, allowing the man to cry. This wasn’t an act, surely? He seemed genuinely distraught at the news. Up close, Nova could smell a strange, sour odor coming off his body. Was he having some kind of mental health episode, and he’d completely blanked out killing his own mother? If so, they should treat him with extreme caution, as goodness knows what he might do. Behind her, she could feel Phyllis’s toe tapping on the floor, and Nova glared at her.
Finally, the man’s sobs subsided, although he kept his face buried in his knees.
“Michael?” Nova said gently, and he jolted, as if he’d forgotten they were there. He looked up at her, his face wet from the tears.
“Is she really dead?”
“I’m so sorry.”
“When?”
“Last Wednesday; the day you came to our book club.”
“And what day is it today?”
“Friday, October 25th.”
She watched Michael do the mental calculations and then fresh tears started to stream down his cheeks. “She died nine days ago?”
