Anita held her hands to her belly in sympathy. ‘But she’ll be okay now, won’t she?’

Paula reached across to squeeze Anita’s arm reassuringly. ‘She will. Don’t worry. And baby Ava is fine and healthy.’

‘Oh, Ava’s a lovely name. I didn’t know Brooke had gone public on the name.’

Paula smiled. ‘I must’ve heard it somewhere.’

Anita was distracted for a moment, wrestling with the last messy handful of her kebab and wiping the sauce off her chin. ‘Tell me this, doctor, would you say there’s any chance Santino actually intended to kill himself?’

‘Well, I’ve known of people using hydromorphone recreationally, but I’ve never come across anyone using it to kill themselves. And anyway, did John Santino seem suicidal?’

‘He didn’t, no. That’s what Rohan reckons too.’

‘Ooh, the lovely Detective Mehta.’ Paula grinned. ‘Let’s talk about more cheerful stuff. I need to hear the latest romantic developments with your new man.’

The two women launched into the kind of relationship dissection they’d always enjoyed, flipping comfortably between candour, teasing and earnestness. The conversation felt entirely normal. Bizarrely normal, except that Paula had dyed blonde hair and an injured face and Anita had suspicions running through her head that she couldn’t fathom.

The following evening, Rohan went over to Anita’s place for a night of easy dinner and telly. They talked, only for a moment, about John Santino’s death.

‘Hey,’ asked Anita, ‘in the official statements, did you guys ever name the drug that killed him?’

‘Uh, no. We said “an opiate drug”, that’s all. But I think I told you it was hydromorphone.’

‘Yep, you did. I was just wondering where he would’ve got hold of hydromorphone.’

‘Guy like Santino would’ve had resourceful dealers.’

Anita shrugged and nodded. She figured she must have mentioned the name of the drug to Paula earlier. That would explain how Paula knew.

‘And Brooke—she was injured when he pushed her against a table? Like a wooden table or—?’

‘No. Glass top on an ugly chrome base,’ said Rohan. ‘I’ve only seen photos, but it was definitely glass.’

‘But the glass didn’t break when he pushed her?’

‘Nah, those tables are more sturdy than they look.’

Later, when Anita was curled up on the sofa next to Rohan, her eyes were aimed at the TV screen but her mind was far away, churning through other possible narratives. Then she realised he was looking at her, aware that she was absent somehow.

‘What are you thinking about?’ he asked.

‘You don’t want to know.’

‘I do. I mean, if you want to tell me.’

‘Silly thoughts. Nothing to do with you,’ she assured him. ‘Labyrinthine female friendship stuff with Paula.’