Both Mum and Dad’s cars were in the drive, together with a black BMW I didn’t recognise. It had black tinted windows, seemingly impenetrable. Steeling myself to go inside, I called Zach.
“Hi, Molls.” Typically, he’d forgotten our spectacular fallout.
“You sound up.”
“Yeah, well, it’s a lovely evening and I’ve spent a nice day with Chancer.” Music with a grinding beat pummelled through the phone line.
“Hellooo,” Chancer boomed. “Or rather goodbye. Kiss. Kiss.”
“Daft fucker,” Zach said.
“Is he drunk?”
“Hang on, Moll.”
There were lots of muffled noises, which I equated to manly hugs, back slapping and ‘See you laters.’
“That’s better,” Zach said. “He’s gone.”
Good. This wasn’t the kind of conversation I wanted to have with Chancer earwigging. “Are you up to speed with the police investigation?”
“Spoke to Mum last night. Sounded a bit tiddly.” Did she sound anything else after 8 p.m.? “Seems the pigs have called a halt.”
“Don’t refer to the police like that, especially not in front of Dad.”
“But I’m not talking to Dad. I’m talking to you.”
I scratched my chin. Zach could be so maddening. “What else did she say?”
“That it was all over and the funeral is planned for end of next week.”
I blinked. It was rare for Zach to have the drop on me when it came to family information. I took a huge breath, as if wading out into a cold sea. “What if it’s not all over?
“I don’t follow.”
“What if the police got it wrong?”
“Molly,” Zach snorted.
“What if Scarlet knew Bowen.”
“We’ve been through all this.” He gave an irritated sigh.
“Please, Zach, listen.”
He paused for a few moments, thinking how to slide out of the conversation. I pounced before he had the chance.
“What if Bowen had something on her? What if she wanted to shut him up?” Stealing a line straight from the Rocco Noble school of vocabulary.
“Are you cracked?”
This was good coming from my brother. “Hear me out.”
“I don’t want to.”
“You don’t want to understand what made our sister do what she did?”
“If she did. And if you’re right, I definitely don’t want to know.”
“Coward.”
“Drama Queen.”
“Talking to you is like talking to a pile of bricks.”
“Ditto.”
I glanced across, caught sight of Mum, standing close to the window. She looked angry and was jabbing the air with a finger, mouthing words I couldn’t read to someone I couldn’t see. When she turned on her heel, a man’s hand, not my Dad’s, caught her arm, which she wrenched away.
“Are you still there, Molly?”
“Sorry, yeah. Aren’t you the least bit curious?”
“Curiosity killed the moggy.”
Everywhere I turned I came up against invisible walls. The only person who took me seriously at the moment was Rocco Noble. And Lenny was right. That was worrying.
“Speak to you later.” I hung up, my gaze fused to the window and whoever was in the room with my mother, but out of view. Concerned, I opened the car door, my eyes never leaving the curious story unfolding in front of me. That’s when I saw Dad. He was patting the air with his palms in a calming gesture. He didn’t seem angry and I got the impression that Mum was standing in between him and someone else. I wondered if it was a police officer.
Dad said something over Mum’s head to whoever was in the room and then addressed her directly. I blinked, stared harder. Dad seemed to be remonstrating with my mother. I didn’t know what to make of it, other than it was nothing good.
The prickly exchange with my father remained fresh in my mind. I wasn’t sure I could take any more family drama. Although I longed to discover the identity of the mystery man and the reason for the row, cowardice got the better of me.
Feeling exposed and as if I shouldn’t be there, I slunk back into the car, switched on the engine, turned around and drove back down the drive before anyone would notice. I needed my own space, where nobody could touch me, not even my own family and friends.