11:27PM.

Her eyes were on Rosie the entire time.

She was sat on one of the sofas with her head in her hands and she had been crying and from all the way across the room Irene couldn’t quite tell if she was still crying or not. Or if she had been putting it on in the first place. She just sat there, unmoving. Irene looked about. Everybody else had moved off somewhere save for Lisa who was still watching Rosie with the knife, like some sort of executioner overseeing the condemned in their final hours. Even Seulgi had disappeared. Irene waited. By the time any of them came back it was almost half past eleven and Seulgi had a glass of water with her and she smiled at Irene from the stairs and came on over without even looking at Rosie.

‘Hey,’ she said.

‘Hi. Where’d you get that?’

‘At the getting place.’

‘Nice.’

Seulgi’s smile was one of mischief and it made Irene’s heart ache because it reminded her of older times, when Seulgi would spend hours just sat there teasing her, trying to get a rise out of her, annoying her endlessly for fun. Had it been better then? Was that better than no Seulgi at all? Of course it was, she thought. Any Seulgi was better than no Seulgi at all.

‘So are we gonna talk yet?’ Seulgi said.

‘We did talk. Earlier, in the boiler room.’

‘Yeah, but not really though, did we? I mean, unless you actually class that as talking, which, knowing you…’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘Nothing.’

‘No, I want to know. If we’re going to talk, I want to know.’

Seulgi shrugged. ‘I just meant, you know…you were never the best at talking through things, were you? Always kinda left that to me. And I guess that’s where something went wrong, because I was never much good at talking through things either.’

‘Too emotional.’

‘Yeah. Or maybe you just weren’t emotional enough.’

‘Maybe a bit of both.’

‘I missed you,’ Seulgi said. ‘Honestly. Properly. I did miss you. I thought about texting you or ringing you or even just coming around to your apartment and I thought – what would she think of me doing that?’

‘Probably would’ve enjoyed it.’

‘Yeah, I get that now. But I didn’t at the time. I was waiting for you to make a move. And then…’

‘Then I didn’t.’

‘Yeah.’

Irene was quiet. There was nothing much she could say to that and so the next thing she asked was: ‘Where did you get that glass?’

‘In the kitchen. Why?’

‘You shouldn’t be drinking it.’

‘What, in case she’s poisoned the water supply, too?’

‘Well.’

‘Relax, I filled it up in the bathroom.’

‘What?’

Seulgi nodded. ‘What? What’s wrong with that? Irene.’

‘Nothing,’ Irene said. ‘Forget it.’

‘What do we now?’

‘I don’t know. Maybe we could, you know…’

‘What?’

‘Go for a meal or something. I mean, you don’t have to if you don’t want to. I know you were never really keen on eating fancy or anything like that. Always said it made you feel stuffy, like a married woman or something. So we don’t have to do that. I just thought maybe…you know. We could. It’d be nice. I mean, we don’t have to. We could just, you know…stay in and watch a movie or something. Maybe order pizza. Chicken. My place is pretty nice, honestly. I think you’d like it. It’s right up your street. I mean, the décor is that supermodern black and white that you like. I thought…you know. But that’s only if you want to. You don’t have to if you don’t want. We don’t even have to meet. I just figured it might be nice to sit down and chat over food again.’

Seulgi was silent.

‘What? Did I say something wrong? I didn’t mean to all that forward and stuff. I mean, we can take it slowly.’

‘I was talking about tonight,’ Seulgi said. ‘With the whole murder thing that’s going on, you know?’

‘Oh. Yeah, that makes sense. Sorry. Well then in that case I don’t know, honestly. Your guess is as good as mine.’

‘We just sit here until morning and then drive down to Seoul?’

‘I suppose so.’

‘Will she escape?’’

‘Who? Rosie? No, I don’t think so. I don’t think she has it in her to escape.’

‘Me neither.’

Irene coughed into her hand. There was still an awkward tension between them and she didn’t like it one bit. ‘I’m going to go upstairs,’ she said. ‘See if I can find something to drink in the lounge that hasn’t been poisoned. Or something to eat.’

‘Okay. I’m gonna stay down here, stick with Rosie. Maybe search the dining hall or something.’

‘Yeah.’

‘Oh, and Irene.’

‘Yeah?’

‘What you said, about a meal and a chat – I’d be down for that.’

‘Yeah?’

Seulgi smiled softly. ‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘I think that’d be good.’

‘Alright. It’s a date.’

Wendy was already in the lounge upstairs when Irene entered.

‘Hey boss,’ she said.

‘Hi.’

She was sat in one of the chairs across from the pool table and she’d pulled one of the moving trolleys around to the side of her and from it she’d produced a square bottle of bourbon and a small glass and filled it about half full and she held it up in front of her face and closed one eye as if to see some warped form of Irene through the golden liquid and then she drank.

‘Whiskey?’ Irene said.

‘It’s pretty good. Found it in one of those dressers over there. You want some?’

‘No, I’m good.’

Irene stood there, leaning on the pool table. There was something she wanted to say and no real way of saying it that wouldn’t mildly embarrass her because she had never been much good with words, had Irene. And perhaps in some way that had subconsciously influenced her decision to try her hand at public investigation. Less people to talk to, to annoy her. She watched Wendy finish her drink and wipe with the back of one hand and pour herself another.

‘Watch yourself,’ she said.

‘What?’

‘Don’t get too drunk.’

‘Oh. I won’t. I’ve got a crazy tolerance for spirits. Dunno why, I just do. I think maybe it’s a mental thing, you know. Like a placebo effect. Or nocebo, I think it’s called. Like, I tell myself I’m not gonna get drunk, so I don’t. Or maybe not. Whatever. You sure you don’t want some?’

‘How do you know it’s not been poisoned?’

‘I don’t. But that’s a risk I’m willing to take for good bourbon. And this is really good stuff. Not that I’m surprised or anything.’

Irene was quiet, watching her. Nothing about her ever seemed less than entirely positive and optimistic. She said, in a quieter, more cautious tone, ‘You don’t seem too annoyed by the prospect of Mr Kim firing you.’

Any change Irene had been anticipating did not come. She drank and shrugged and said, ‘Just one of things, I suppose. I never knew about it. Had no idea he was gonna even take over the company, let alone kick me out of a contract. I mean, I honestly didn’t even know Mr Jae was the CEO until you mentioned it. Like I said, the only person I’ve ever met there has been my publishing agent. Did he know me? I’m guessing he did, right, being the CEO and all. But then, why didn’t he say anything to me? Why was he keeping it quiet? Wheein, too. Why didn’t she say anything? She must’ve known me, if she were planning something with the business. I dunno. I tend not to dwell on these things.’

‘You really had no idea? At all.’

‘No. You believe me, right, boss?’

‘Yeah,’ Irene said, and for some reason it was the truth.

‘I mean, maybe I should be angry. I think he should’ve told me about it at least. I don’t know why he didn’t like me. Never did anything to him. Maybe because of my journalism, I guess? He didn’t want me snooping around or anything like that. I dunno. Not quite smart enough to figure that bit out.’

Irene was quiet. She leant against the pool table, both hands on the frame. For some odd reason she felt compelled to ask advice from Wendy. To seek something from her. So with some reluctance and a lot more embarrassment she did. ‘Hey, Wendy,’ she said

‘Yeah?’

‘Can I ask you something?’

‘Sure. Anything.’

‘Do you think it’s a good idea for me to get back with Seulgi?’

‘What?’ Wendy said.

‘I— it’s nothing. I shouldn’t have asked.’

‘No, go on. I wanna hear.’

‘Well…I mean, I’ve never been any good with my emotions. With explaining how I feel. And I’ve always somehow been even worse at understanding how other people are feeling. I could never figure people out. Still not great at it, which I guess is probably quite ironic considering my career revolves around finding things out for people, or about people. But I could never really understand Seulgi. How she was feeling, what she wanted of me, stuff like that. And I was awful at confronting it, or talking about it, even when we were living together.’

‘Okay.’

‘Okay?’

‘Yeah. Okay.’

‘What—’

‘I’m listening. Keep going.’

Irene paused for a moment. She thought Wendy might laugh at her or make fun of her but she did not. ‘I never thought I’d see her again,’ Irene said. ‘I almost even forgot about her. Not quite, but almost. And then she shows up here and the first thing she does is…you know.’

‘What?’

‘You know.’

‘Make out with you?’

‘Yeah, something like that.’

‘Sweet. That’s kinda hot.’

‘Well.’

‘Is that it?’

Irene shrugged, a shyness to her.

‘Are you asking me for relationship advice, boss?’

‘I don’t know. If you’ve got any to give, I’ll take it.’

‘Well,’ Wendy said, and was quiet, as if thinking of the correct thing to say. Then she said: ‘I think you should hire someone to pretend to rob her.’

‘What? What the ?’

‘Well, it was something I read that someone did once. I think it was in a magazine somewhere, I dunno. One of those dentists waiting room-type magazines. Or maybe when I was in a flight lounge somewhere. The specifics escape me. Anyway, he was having problems with his fiancé and so he thought the best way to fix it was to make himself look headstrong and assertive and manly. So his solution was to hire a paid actor to dress up like a homeless man and pretend to rob her purse while she was out walking, and the guy – her fiancé, I mean, the guy who set this up – followed her out of their house, and the moment this paid actor jumped her he leapt out of the bushes and came to her rescue. Well, “rescue,” you know? Scared the hell out of her, but he looked tough and . And apparently it saved their potential marriage. Well, for a short time at least. Yeah, the article ended by saying that eighteen months later she caught him sleeping with their nineteen-year-old maid, so I guess he was the in the end. Moral of the story? I dunno. Is there one? But yeah.’

‘Why a homeless man?’

‘What?’

‘Why was the paid actor dressed as a homeless man?’

‘Oh, I dunno. It didn’t explain that part. Maybe to be more convincing or something? Although that would be quite demeaning and stereotyping towards homeless people. But then, is the sort of guy that would hire someone to rob their fiancé the sort of guy that would also care about the potential drawbacks of demonising Korea’s growing homeless population? I’m not so sure.’

‘How does that help my current situation at all?’

‘Oh, well…I guess you could hire someone to pretend to rob Seulgi when she’s out on a walk or going to work or something. And then you could jump out and fight this guy off and Seulgi will be all like, “Ooh, Irene, you saved me, I never knew you had it in you! You’re so brave and decisive and you know just how to get to my heart! I love you!” And if it’s too much trouble to stalk her when she’s out of the house you could always hire a guy to, I dunno…break into her apartment or something.’

‘Break into her apartment.’

‘Well, pretend to. He’d be a paid actor, of course.’

Irene was quiet. Then she said, ‘I was just planning on taking her out.’

‘Jesus, that’s dark. Should you really be admitting something like that to me?’

‘What? No, I meant taking her out for a nice dinner.’

‘Not killing her?’

‘No. Just dinner.’

‘I see. Yeah, that would probably work too. But you never know unless you try it, right?’

‘Try what?’

‘Anything.’

‘Uh, sure. Thanks, Wendy.’

‘Welcome, boss.’ Wendy broke into a beaming smile. ‘I’m always here if you need anything.’

‘Thanks.’

‘You sure you don’t want any of this bourbon? I can’t make any promises it’ll still be here by the time you come back up.’

‘No, I’m good. Thanks again.’

Wendy gave a little thumbs up and a smile. When Irene turned Yeri was right there in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe, hands in the pockets of her jeans.

‘Jesus,’ Irene muttered. ‘You nearly gave me a heart attack.’

‘Cool.’

‘Can’t you be louder next time?’

‘Louder what? Walking across a hallway? Sorry I didn’t know you were so susceptible to quiet footsteps otherwise I’d have taken precautions ahead of time.’

‘Very funny. Why are you here?’

‘Am I not allowed to be?’

‘Yes, but—’

‘Come play snakes and ladders.’

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘Come down and play snakes and ladders with us,’ Yeri said. ‘We got bored so I decided to grab it from my granduncle’s office and bring it down with us. You should join us for a couple games.’

‘Is Seulgi down there?’

‘Yeah. Why?’

‘No reason. Who’s playing?’

‘Come and find out.’

She followed Yeri downstairs. They already had the snakes and ladders board set up on the glass table and Rosie and Sooyoung and Seulgi were sat hunched over with two little red dice when they reached the bottom of the stairs.

‘She’s playing?’ Irene said.

‘Sure,’ said Yeri. None of them turned to her.  They seemed too enamoured by the game. Even Seulgi.

‘Why?’

‘Why what?’ Yeri said, sitting down beside Sooyoung.

‘Why is she playing.’

‘Because she wanted to. What’s wrong with that? Jheez, she’s just a murderer, not a board game cheat.’

‘I’m not a murderer,’ Rosie said, sighing. ‘And even if I were, which I’m not, why would that stop me from playing board games?’

‘Board games aren’t a human right,’ Irene said.

‘No, sure. But they’re fun. Are you playing?’

‘No.’

‘Just watching?’ Yeri said.

‘Yes.’

Irene nodded to Wheein, sat with her arms folded on the end of the middle sofa. She looked as if there were no place in the world she would less like to be. ‘Why aren’t you playing?’ Irene asked.

‘I don’t want to.’

‘Wheein here’s been talking about going home,’ said Yeri.

Irene glanced at her again. ‘Is that right?’

‘Yep. Said she doesn’t care about the storm and the only reason she’s still here is because she’s scared of what you might do if she decided on it.’

‘What? Me?’

‘Uh huh. I told her to just go for it. I mean, it, why not? What’s the worst that could happen? We’ve already established who the killer is. What’s the point in staying any longer? And then she said—’

‘I’m not going to leave,’ said Wheein.

‘Said that, yeah. Dunno why, though.’

‘She’s armed.’

‘What?’

Wheein pointed at Irene. ‘Earlier this evening she said she’s armed.’

Yeri guffawed. ‘Armed?’ she said. ‘Armed with what? Pamphlets about Korea’s responsible gun control laws?’

‘She said she’d shoot me.’

‘Presumably it was a metaphor.’

‘A metaphor for what?’

‘A metaphor for— look, it doesn’t matter what. She’s not gonna shoot you. Are you, Irene?’

Irene only sighed. Any other response she could give felt hopeless, like talking to a wall that could unfortunately talk back. And talk. And talk and talk and talk. If there was one thing Yeri could do, it was talk. And so she did. She babbled, little snakes and ladders piece in one hand and a fresh glass of champagne in the other, and if there were any possibility that it might have at some point in the evening been poisoned just like the stew, she didn’t seem to care. She insulted Sooyoung’s Ferrari, Wheein’s haircut, Lisa’s attitude, Jisoo’s meekness, Jennie’s blubbering, Seulgi’s intelligence, Irene’s incompetence, Wendy’s sycophancy, Rosie’s murderous tendencies. She insulted her dead granduncle for possibly being senile and the equally dead Mr Jae for being killed by a bowl of stew. She insulted the criminal justice system, bankers, the bankees, the police, the mounted police, the weed smokers, the weed legislators. She insulted cats, dogs, horses, panthers, leopards, jaguars, hyenas, honey badgers. She insulted the president of the United States, the prime minister of the UK, the king of Denmark. The only person she didn’t insult was Mr Jang, because she knew nothing about him, otherwise she would have done. She relayed the same story from earlier, Ronald McDonald and Colonel Sanders - on the couch. Then she moved onto something new, a fresh glass of champagne already half emptied in one hand. Irene checked her phone. It had just gone midnight. Without a word to anyone she left them there and made for the bathroom down the left-side hallway.

It occurred to her only when she’d locked the door that she hadn’t used the bathroom all evening long. For such a villa of a house it was a small room. A single toilet, one lone window just above it, a sink on the left with a smear of mud or dirt faintly down the side of the ceramic. A lone air vent about six feet up the wall on the right-hand side of the toilet held in place by four screws, one at a slightly off angle. Nothing much else. Standing in front of the mirror the thing that looked back seemed almost to taunt her, stressed and sleep deprived as she was. For a while she thought about Seulgi. What would Seulgi say? Would a meal be a good idea? What would they talk over? Mounting questions of Rosie and Mr Jae and then Mr Kim eluded her entirely. Only: Seulgi Seulgi Seulgi.

‘What am I doing,’ she muttered.

No answer came. Somebody had left the window a slight open to let in some air and she could hear the rain still falling, faintly falling, in the greater world beyond. It smelt of the air, the dampness of it. The dust. She tried to think of anything but Seulgi and found for some reason it was almost impossible and so she was washed her hands and dried them and went on back out to the main room to see what they were all doing. Thinking all the while: I wonder what we’ll eat. Chinese, maybe. Seulgi always liked Chinese food. Or maybe something a bit more exotic. Maybe steak.

And then, for some reason, she thought: Maybe I should hire someone to rob her. Maybe Wendy had a point after all.