As Good as Dead: The Finale to A Good Girl’s Guide to Murder

Breath-fogged glass and a getaway heart, escaping her chest.

Pip’s eyes at the bottom of the window, watching as Max paused the video game.

He stood up, dropped the controller on the sofa. Stretched his arms over his head, then wiped his hands on his running shorts.

He turned away.

Headed towards the hallway.

Now.

Pip was numb and she was flying.

Feet carrying her round the back of the house.

She heard the doorbell, pressed twice again.

A muffled shout from inside, Max’s voice. ‘I’m coming, I’m coming!’

More windows at the back. They were closed. Of course they were closed; it was a cold night in September. Pip would break one, if she had to; undo the catch and climb through. Pray he wouldn’t hear, that he wouldn’t go into that room until it was too late. But a broken window didn’t fit the narrative as well.

How long had it been now? Had Max already opened the door, shocked to see Nat da Silva standing in the dark outside?

Stop. Stop thinking and move.

Pip ran across the back of the house, keeping low.

There was a patio ahead, with a folded-up sunshade and a covered-up table. Leading out to it was a wide set of patio doors, small squares of glass in a white painted frame. There was no light leaking out of them, but as Pip approached, the moon lit her way again, showing her a large dining room inside. And the door that must connect it to the living room was closed, yellow lines of light around its border.

Her breaths were adrenaline-fast, and each one hurt.

Pip hurried up to the patio doors. Through the glass, she could see the door handle inside, and a set of keys in the lock. This was it. Her way in. She just had to break that one small pane of glass and she could reach inside to unlock the door. It wasn’t perfect, but it would do.

Quickly.

She braced one hand against the handle, readying the elbow on her other arm. But before she could ram it forward, into the glass, her other hand gave way. The handle pushed down under her weight. And then – to her shock – it opened outward as she pulled.

The door was already unlocked.

It shouldn’t be unlocked; the plan hadn’t counted on that. But maybe Max didn’t fear the danger lurking outside in the night, because he already was the danger. Plain-sight danger, not the dark-of-night kind. Or maybe he was just forgetful. Pip didn’t pause, didn’t stop to question it any further, sliding through the gap and shutting the patio door quietly behind her.

She was inside.

How long had that taken? She needed more time. How much longer could Nat distract him for?

Pip could hear their voices now, carrying through the house. She couldn’t make out the words, not until she opened the dining-room door and crept through into the living room.

The room was open plan, leading out on to the hallway. Pip glanced over, and Max was right there, standing at the front door with his back to her. Beyond him, Pip could just make out the halo of Nat’s white hair.

‘I don’t understand why you’re here,’ she heard Max say, his voice quieter than usual, unsure.

‘Just wanted to talk to you,’ Nat said.

Pip held her breath and stepped forward. Slow, silent. Her eyes shifted, away from Max to his blue water bottle, waiting on the coffee table ahead.

‘Kind of feel like I shouldn’t talk to you, not without a lawyer present,’ replied Max.

‘And doesn’t that say everything?’ Nat said with a sniff.

There was still water in the bottle, almost a third. Pip had hoped for more, but that would do. It should be tasteless. Her feet moved from polished wood to the huge, over-patterned rug in the centre of the room. There were no shadows to disappear into, nothing to hide behind. The room was bright and if Max looked back now, he’d see her.

‘So, what did you want to say?’ Max coughed lightly, and Pip halted, checking over her shoulder.

‘Wanted to talk to you about this libel suit you’re filing, against Pip.’

Pip crept forward, testing out each step before she leaned into it, in case one of the floorboards creaked.

She reached the edge of the large corner sofa, and ducked down beneath it, crawling forward, towards the bottle. The controller and Max’s phone lying abandoned on the seat of the sofa.

‘What about it?’ asked Max.

Pip reached out with her gloved hand, fingers wrapping around the sturdy plastic of the bottle. Its spout was already up and waiting, globs of his spit resting on top.

‘Why are you doing it?’ Nat said.

Pip unscrewed the top of the bottle, round and round.

‘I have to,’ said Max. ‘She spread lies about me to a significant number of people. Damaged my reputation.’

The top of the bottle came free, attached to a long plastic straw.

‘Reputation,’ Nat laughed darkly.

Pip rested the bottle top on the table, a few drops of water falling from the straw on to the rug below.

‘Yes, my reputation.’

She reached into her pocket, pulled out the sealed plastic bag with the green powder. Holding the bottle in the crook of her elbow, Pip peeled open the baggie.

‘Except they weren’t lies, you know that. For fuck’s sake, Max, she has a recording of you admitting it. What you did to Becca Bell. And me. And all the others. We know.’

Pip tipped the bag over the opening of the bottle. The green powder made a gentle hiss as it slid down, landing in the water.

‘That recording was fabricated. I would never say that.’

Green dust clinging to the inner walls of the bottle, sinking down through the water.

‘Have you said that so many times you’re even starting to believe it yourself?’ Nat asked him.

Pip swirled the water inside the bottle, picking up the dregs. Gently. A small splashing sound of water crashing on water.

‘Look, I really don’t have time for this.’

Pip froze.

She couldn’t see beyond the sofa. Was it over? Was Max shutting the door? Would he catch her right here, crouched on his rug, his water bottle in her hands?

A sound. Shuffling. And then something harder, like wood crashing up against something.

‘But I’m not finished,’ Nat said, louder now. Much louder. Was it a signal to Pip? Get out of there, she couldn’t keep him any longer.

Pip gave the bottle one last shake. The powder was dissolving, cloudy in the water, but Max wouldn’t be able to tell, not through the dark blue plastic. She picked up the top and screwed it back on.

‘What are you doing?’ Max said, his voice rising too. Pip flinched. But, no, he wasn’t talking to her. He was still over there, talking to Nat. ‘What do you want?’

Nat coughed, a harsh, unnatural sound. That was a signal, Pip was sure.

She placed the bottle back on the coffee table, exactly where she’d found it, and she turned. Crawling back the way she’d come.

‘I wanted to tell you…’

‘Yes?’ Max snapped, impatient.

Past the edge of the sofa, and Pip straightened up. She looked at them, Nat’s foot over the threshold, blocking the front door.

‘That if you take it to trial, this libel case against Pip, I will be there, every day.’

Pip crept, one foot in front of the other, bag shuffling against her shoulders. Too loud. She looked across, her eyes meeting Nat’s over Max’s shoulder.

‘I will testify against you. So will the others, I’m sure.’

Pip shifted her gaze, focusing on the closed door into the dining room ahead of her. Max wouldn’t go in there, she was sure. She could wait him out in there, or outside.

‘You won’t get away a second time, I promise. We will get you.’

More scuffling. Fabric on fabric. Then a thump.

Someone roared.

Max.

Pip wouldn’t make it. Too far. She darted right instead, to a slatted door fitted under the grand staircase. She opened it and swung herself inside, falling back into the small space, between a Hoover and a mop. She leaned up and pulled the cupboard door closed.

It slammed. Loudly.

No, that wasn’t her door.

That was the front door.

The slam echoing down the polished hall.

No, that wasn’t an echo, those were feet.

Max’s.

Slapping against the wooden floorboards, a person-shaped blur passing through the slats in front of her.

He stopped, right outside, and Pip didn’t breathe.