2:06AM.

Seulgi brought her into the lounge room a couple minutes later and closed the door behind her. Wendy looked as if she had no idea what was going on at all. As if she were almost oblivious to everything. Sitting there at the far side of the room all Irene could think when she walked in was: Either she’s an incredible actor or she really is innocent.

‘Hey boss,’ she said.

‘Hi.’

‘Did you want something?’

‘I just wanted to ask you a few questions, is all.’

‘Oh. Sure. You mind if I have some of that?’

She pointed to the decanter of bourbon on one of the wheeled coffee tables and Irene shrugged and nodded and said go right ahead. Wendy poured herself about half a glass and stood leaning against the pool table. She almost had a smile on her face. As if nothing in the world could bother her. It took Irene a long time to say, ‘I need to ask you about why you’re actually here today.’

‘What? What do you mean?’

‘At the house. I need to know exactly why you came. For what purpose. I know Mr Kim invited you – he invited all of us – but you’re the only here that doesn’t seem to have a concrete reason. You had a publishing contract with him, yes. But is that reason enough? I’m not sure. And if he was going to fire you from your contract like he implied, why would he invite you here and do it over dinner? This was supposed to be a friendly get together. Why wouldn’t he do it in any other setting?’

Wendy just looked at her.

‘There must another reason. There has to be. Wendy.’

‘Boss.’

‘Why are you here?’

She waited. Part of her anticipated a sudden change in Wendy’s demeanour like there had been with Rosie and with Jennie but it never came. She just stood there, sipping her bourbon. Eventually she said, ‘I told you earlier. Mr Kim didn’t invite me because of my books or whatever. He invited me because I’m a journalist. I’m in the middle of writing a big article for the Seoul Gazette on his business ventures and how his meteoric rise to wealth is so unique in a world unfairly predisposed towards massive amounts of existing capital, whether that be through familial ties or longstanding connections or whatever else. I was in the process of arranging an interview with him when I got the invite in the post asking me to come along today.’

‘And you were going to interview him here?’

Wendy shrugged and drank. ‘I don’t think so,’ she said. ‘Not really the right sort of setting for that, although I suppose Mr Kim wasn’t exactly your average sort of guy, was he? So maybe he did want me to interview him. Maybe he was gonna bring me up here after dinner and we could sit down and chat over bourbon and cigars. Maybe some of this big Havanas. I dunno. He didn’t get that far before someone put a knife in his back. A literal knife, of course. And also a metaphorical one, just for the record. But yeah, that’s the reason.’

‘What was this article about?’

‘Like I said, about his business ventures. I can’t exactly give out any of the details to anyone – no offence of course, boss – but it was a deep dive into his investment history, namely his business in the late eighties and early nineties in the tech sectors, when they just starting up, and how forward-thinking those investments had been at that time. A little less on his most recent acquisitions, but still. Most of the recent stuff was on H&H Enterprises. That was more interesting than any of the other stuff. There have been rumours about unhappy investors and people pulling out and clients complaining with H&H for years, so that was one of the main focuses. And also—’

‘That’s alright,’ Seulgi said from behind her. ‘We don’t need a whole rundown of everything. Just the basic .’

‘What’s this about?’ Wendy asked. She glanced at Irene again, sat in the chair by the window. ‘Am I a suspect again?’

‘Everyone in his house is a suspect,’ Irene said.

‘Even you?’

‘Yes. Even me.’

‘You don’t think I did it, do you?’

‘No. In fact, I think you didn’t do it. I don’t know why, but I do. But I just needed it cleared and out in the open, the whole reason you were here. Like I said, you were the one I had my doubts about.’

‘I wasn’t lying to you, boss.’

‘I didn’t say you were. I was just asking.’

‘Well. This is good whiskey.’

‘What’s everyone else doing?’

‘Playing snakes and ladders. You should come join us.’

‘Is anyone different?’

‘What?’

‘Since I left the room.’ Irene said. ‘Has anyone been acting any differently?’

‘Oh. Well, I dunno. Wasn’t really paying much attention to anything except the game, I suppose. Maybe they were. Was I supposed to be paying attention to that? Have I ed up, boss?’

‘No, you’re fine.’

‘Oh. Good. You sure you don’t want some whiskey?’

‘Yeah. I’m sure. Thanks, Wendy.’

‘You coming downstairs?’

‘In a minute, yeah.’

‘Well. Okay then.’

She smiled at Irene and Irene forced a smile back and then she opened the door and went on out. Seulgi studied her. Sat there in the window chair like some sagely form with her hands in her lap and her lips pursed.

‘What are you thinking?’

‘I don’t know,’ Irene said with a sigh. ‘I’m thinking a lot of things.’

‘Do you need some time to be alone?’

Irene offered a weak smile. ‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘I think so. Sorry.’

‘It’s cool. I’ll be downstairs.’

When she was gone Irene just sat there and closed her eyes. The room was beginning to spin. The world. Things were beginning to feel unfair. Here lied a mystery she couldn’t quite put her finger on and the bitterness of this frustrated her. Rosie was downstairs. Rosie had admitted to it. And so why did everything Seulgi had said make sense? Could there be someone else involved? Things didn’t add up. She sat there and let the world tilt on its unbalanced axis and she sighed again. Her mind drifted back to Seulgi, as if often did. Thinking: Is she really telling the truth now? Is there more she’s hiding?

And knowing in her heart of hearts that once that trust is broken it takes a lot more than wishful thinking to restore it. A lot more.

She was interrupted a few minutes later by the sound of the lounge door opening and someone coughing and strangely enough she knew who it was right away.

‘We’re closed,’ she said.

That earned a laugh. ‘That’s quite good,’ said Yeri. ‘Quite witty. I didn’t think you had it in you.’

‘Yeah, well.’

‘You look like .’

‘Thanks. Did you want something?’

Yeri was silent. Then without a word she grabbed the decanter from the table and one of the glasses from a cabinet on the right of the room and poured herself a glass and drank the whole thing in one long and laborious mouthful.

‘Should you be doing that?’

‘Why? Are you worried someone’s poisoned the whiskey, too? Oh…you are. God, look at the state of you.’

‘Thanks,’ Irene said again.

‘You want some? C’mon. It’s good whiskey. Tell you what, I’ve got an idea.’

‘I look forward to hearing it.’

Yeri offered no snarky reply. Instead she leant down and opened one of the cupboards and pulled out a black box and set it on the wheelout table next to the whiskey decanter. It was a black and gold cigar humidor. She unclasped the lid and opened it and took out the cigar cutter and lighter inside and held them up like an auctioneer and then carefully produced one of the fat brown cigars and showed it to Irene. She turned it in the pale cone of overhead light.

‘Knew they were here,’ she said.

‘What?’

‘This, Irene, is a Cohiba Behike 52. Fortieth anniversary edition.’

‘Okay.’

‘These bad boys go for sixteen thousand dollars each in America. Some of the finest cigars you can find anywhere in the world. In fact, they’re so rare that only a hundred of these humidor cases here were ever produced.’

‘Cool. I didn’t know you smoked cigars.’

Yeri shrugged. ‘I don’t,’ she said. ‘Only ever tried it once. In fact I know all about them. Only reason I knew these were here was because my granduncle never stopped going on about them. About this ing case. Never missed an opportunity to whip it out and show me, either.’ She paused. Then: ‘God…that sounds wrong. Ignore that. But you know what I mean. You fancy one?’

‘A sixteen-thousand-dollar cigar?’

‘Sure.’

‘Sixteen thousand dollars.’

‘Oh, lighten up. Money is a social construct with no physical value attached to it, designed solely to subdue and ultimately neuter the collective power of the proletariat in favour of the upper classes. Currency only gives it power if you let it. And besides, it’s not like he’s gonna be needing them anymore, is he?’

And to that Irene had no answer. Yeri trimmed one of the Cohibas with the cigar cutter and held it between her lips and lit it with the big lighter and gave a series of long puffs. Irene just watched her. The smoke filled the room, a thin blueness to it in the dim light. She gave another puff and put the lighter down and chewed on the end of the cigar and then took it out of and grinned and said, ‘How do I look? Do I look like Winston Churchill?’

‘Not quite.’

‘These…are ing awful. Dunno how anyone can enjoy cigars. Stick to joints. Maybe they’re an acquired taste. Maybe I’ll get used to them when I’m, like, sixty.’

She set the cigar down on the table and poured a second glass of whiskey and passed it to Irene.

‘Go on,’ she said. ‘Just a sip.’

With some reluctance Irene took it. They were silent for a long time. Two whiskeysipping strangers alone in this room of secrets. Yeri finished her glass and set it down and wiped and said, ‘You wanna know why I came up here to see you, don’t you?’

‘Yes I do.’

‘It’s because I know what you’re thinking.’

Irene laughed and rubbed her head. ‘No,’ she said. ‘Trust me, I don’t think you do.’

‘I do. It’s simple really. You think that Rosie’s the culprit, but you also think that something doesn’t quite feel right and you can’t put your finger on what. You think there’s something that needs explaining that hasn’t been explained yet. You also probably think that Wendy is suspect because nobody in the real world acts so cheery and eager to help out and she’s probably hiding something or trying to deflect because of it. I reckon you’re also thinking that either Mr Jang or Jisoo must have something to do with it too, because they’ve been the quietest of everyone tonight – in fact I think Jisoo’s said about fifteen words total – and so they must be hiding something. Drawing the attention away from themselves.’

‘What— how did—’

‘Am I right? I’m right, aren’t I?’

‘How did you—’

‘And that’s not all. I bet you think that Seulgi has something to do with it too. Or maybe not, and that’s what worries you the most. That’s what’s driving you insane. She might be guilty or she might not be and you can’t tell at this moment in time, but you’re too scared to confront that because you’re still as whipped as a mule for her and you value good over getting the job done. And to be fair, I can’t blame you there.’

‘Jesus.’

‘What?’

‘Why do you make everything sound so gross?’

‘Alright,’ Yeri said, swishing her whiskey about. ‘I’ll be less “gross” for you. You’ve still got feelings for Seulgi and you’re worried about those feelings getting in the way of figuring things out here. You think it might cloud your judgement, if it hasn’t already. You think you might be treating her differently to the others. Am I right, or am I right?’

Reluctantly, Irene said: ‘You’re right. Mostly right.’

‘I know I am. It’s plain as on your face for everyone to see. Which leaves me with one big fat question for you.’

‘What?’

‘Well, Rosie downstairs has already admitted to switching the vials. We know who did it. And yet you’re still up here wondering whether you being pussywhipped—’

‘Please stop saying that.’

‘Wondering whether you being all heart eyes and damp thighs for Seulgi is gonna get in the way of solving things. Which can only mean one thing – you don’t think it’s all solved yet. You think there’s still something someone’s not seeing.’

‘Maybe I do.’

Yeri finished her whiskey. The smile on her face looked almost mischievous. ‘Spill,’ she said.

‘I don’t know. Like you said, it’s a feeling I can’t explain or shake off. Like we’re missing something obvious. Something that’s going to come and slap me right in the face. I’m sure an hour from now I’ll realise that it wasn’t anything and I was being paranoid or whatever, but hey…live in the moment.’

Yeri laughed. ‘You’re starting to sound like me,’ she said.

‘Yeah. What a thought that is.’

‘You should come downstairs. Play some more snakes and ladders. Get your mind off things.’

‘Maybe I should.’

When Yeri was by the door with the cigar humidor in her hands Irene called out to her and she stopped and turned expectantly.

‘Thanks,’ Irene said.

‘For what?’

‘For…I don’t know. For being honest, I suppose.’

Yeri smiled. ‘Don’t mention it,’ she said. ‘Sometimes honesty is all we can offer people.’

It was almost a quarter to three in the morning when Seulgi came knocking again. Irene was still sat there by the window with her eyes closed. She looked like something left out to dry in the sun. The room stank of cigar smoke and whiskey and Seulgi stood again in the doorway her hands neatly in front of her picking at her nails. She waited for Irene to open her eyes but Irene did not.

‘Irene. Irene!’

She jolted up and looked at Seulgi and sighed and rubbed her head.

‘Were you sleeping?’

‘No,’ Irene said. ‘Just resting a while.’

‘Uh huh. Listen, I just wanted to come and say sorry for earlier.’

‘Again?’

‘Yeah, again. I shouldn’t have lied to you.’

‘Yeah.’

‘I know that was wrong of me.’

‘Yeah.’

‘And I just wanted to say that if we’re gonna work things out once this is all out of the way then you’re right – we do need to be honest with each other. I should’ve told you the real reason I came along today, and I shouldn’t have pretended otherwise, and for that all I can say is sorry. I mean it.’

Irene smiled. She realised quite suddenly that staying angry at Seulgi for any extended amount of time was impossible and perhaps it was this that was most dangerous of all. Perhaps Yeri had been right. ‘,’ she muttered. ‘I am pussywhipped.’

‘What?’

‘Nothing. How is everyone?’

‘Well…nervous. I mean, there’s a murderer downstairs, you know? I think everyone’s a bit on edge. And Yeri is a god at snakes and ladders, which makes no sense to me or anyone else because snakes and ladders is a game about luck and not skill. Wheein seems to think she’s playing with loaded dice or something, which also makes no sense because we’re all playing with the same dice, so how can they be loaded for only one person? And Lisa said that maybe she has a certain technique for throwing them that nobody else knows, which I guess makes a little bit more sense considering how much she talked about playing it with Mr Kim all the time. Although I don’t think—’

‘Seulgi.’

‘Yeah?’

‘You’re rambling.’

Seulgi broke into a soft and tired smile. ‘Yeah,’ she mumbled. ‘Are you coming downstairs?’

‘Yeah. I need something to drink.’

‘Well, there’s enough whiskey in this house to, uh…I dunno. Do something whiskey related.’

‘Open a whiskey shop?’

‘Sure. I was gonna say start a whiskey farm. Which…yeah. Whatever.’

‘I need a water or something,’ Irene said. ‘Feels like I haven’t drank anything all day.’

‘Sure.’

She stood and put her hands on the arms of the chair and paused and looked at Seulgi very suddenly. The intensity in her eyes had Seulgi frowning. ‘What?’ Seulgi said. ‘What is it?’

‘Holy .’

‘What?’

‘I’m so stupid. I’m so ing stupid. God I’m stupid. I’m just so, so ing stupid.’

‘Irene? What’s wrong?’

‘I knew there was something I was missing. I knew it wasn’t just paranoia. God, I’m so goddamn stupid all the time.’

‘What?’

‘Water.’

Seulgi just looked at her, as if expecting an answer.

‘You filled up a glass of water from the faucet.’

‘Uh, yeah.’

‘In the bathroom.’

‘Yeah. Irene? What’s wrong?’

Irene was already out the door and halfway to the staircase before Seulgi had time to say anything else. The others were all sat about playing snakes and ladders. Yeri had clearly taken an interest in one of the awful Cohibas because it stank of old cigars and strangely of leather and there were small grey clouds of cigar smoke floating about in the pale light like ghost vapours. Irene made straight for the bathroom on the left of the room. Nobody seemed to pay them any mind. Or if they did Irene was in too much of a rush to pay attention to them. By the time Seulgi had appeared in the doorway behind her the faucet was on and Irene was inspecting it like a plumber. She turned it off and turned it back on again. Then a second time and a third.

‘Irene? What are you doing?’

‘A mud stain,’ she said, nodding to where it was streaked a slight on the side of the porcelain, where it had been hours ago. ‘I saw this earlier and for some ing reason I never paid any mind to it. I blame you.’

‘What?’ Seulgi said. ‘What did I do?’

‘I was…I was thinking about you. Thinking about robbing you.’

‘What? Robbing me?’

‘It’s a long story.’

‘Are you gonna explain?’

‘Some other time. But the mud here. And the window open. And the screw loose. And the faucet.’

‘The faucet?’

‘The faucet works.’

‘Right. So?’

Irene turned to her. ‘So why was I told earlier that it was broken, then?’