‘It’s the same as the first. If he wants me in the room, then maybe he’s trying to keep someone else out of it.’

‘He’s scared?’

I shrugged. Those were all the theories I had. Sofia rubbed her eyes, yawned and settled her gaze out the window again. Before, I hadn’t been able to see uphill to the makeshift mortuary, or downhill to the lake, but now I couldn’t even see the car park. Everything was completely greyed out within a few metres. The dance of ice in the air against that blank slate was reminiscent of looking under a microscope – these little grey cells – and for a second I imagined the mountain on a molecular level. After the storm passed, the ground would be a different shape: the snow would be a knee-high mass of pure white cover, as if it had been laid down in one thick blanket. I realised we were watching the mountain rebuild itself, atom by atom.

‘You look like you’ve barely slept,’ I ventured. Outside, I’d thought her paleness was just the cold, the shock of seeing the dead body, but inside, she looked properly frail. I could see it in her drawn face, and hear it in the rattle of her coffee cup, giving away her shaking hands. I thought of Andy’s glug-glug gesture, of Katherine’s sharp tongue.

‘Really?’ Sofia raised an eyebrow, onto me immediately. ‘We’re doing it this way?’

‘Just talk me through last night. I dunno, for your alibi, or whatever. I don’t really know where else to start,’ I said, trying to sound casual instead of curious.

She sighed, drew her finger across the coffee foam and licked it, not answering.

I resorted to begging. ‘At least help me practise.’

‘Here’s a timeline: Dad called to tell me dinner was cancelled because Audrey wasn’t feeling well, so I ate bar snacks in here because I couldn’t stomach the dining room and, to be honest, I was building up a bit of liquid courage to come and talk to you. And then, after I saw you, I went back to mine. You want some excuses? It’s been a hell of a morning, which is why I look like shit. Thank you, by the way, for the implication that if a woman looks slightly bedraggled, she must be a murderess. Can I remind you that I’m also the only one here, including Officer Crawford, who cried murder in the first place? And, most importantly, you know I went straight back to my room, because you called me pretty much as soon as I walked in the door. You’re my alibi, dummy.’

‘I guess,’ I said, thinking it over. Unless you skipped the recap, you’ll know it was about to occur to me that someone might be after the money, and it just did. ‘Just tell me who you owe money to?’