‘Yes.’ She meets his gaze. Tilts her chin.

‘Okay, sure,’ he drawls. ‘Whatever. Wait over there, please.’ He points at two chairs covered in rust-coloured fabric and a coffee table that looks like a spaceship.

Oli hovers, distractedly flicking through a copy of the Sun.

A ding announces the arrival of an elevator, and Miles Wu steps out. Oli recognises him straight away, even though his body has morphed into that of a swimmer, broad shoulders thinning to a triangular waist. He scans the reception area, sees only Oli and hesitates. She approaches him with her hand out. ‘Hello, Miles. I’m Oli Groves from Melbourne Today.’

He doesn’t offer his hand. ‘I think there’s been a mistake.’

‘No mistake. Cooper couldn’t make it, but I’m the senior journalist he reports to. I actually covered the Housemate story in 2005. I was at Paradise Street the morning Evelyn died.’

Miles shakes his head. ‘Alex agreed to talk to Cooper. That’s why I called him.’

‘I understand, but he and I are like partners. We work closely together.’

‘Do you have ID?’ Miles crosses his arms and glances at the receptionist, who is clearly listening.

‘Sure.’ Oli retrieves her Melbourne Today credentials from her wallet and holds them up.

‘Okay.’ He brings his hands together at his mouth, exhales and nods. ‘Let’s do this, I guess.’

The automatic doors slide open, and Cooper rushes in. ‘Sorry, I’m late! I caught a taxi here and underestimated how long it would take.’

Creases dent Miles’s forehead.

‘Miles, hello. I’m Cooper. Genuine apologies for my tardiness.’

Miles looks between the two of them. ‘I thought you weren’t coming?’

‘Change of plan,’ Cooper trills. ‘I moved a few things around so I could make it because I really appreciated you reaching out to speak with me.’

Oli barely refrains from elbowing him in the ribs. ‘Shall we find somewhere to talk, Miles?’

‘Yes. Um, upstairs. We have an in-house cafe. It’s not fancy, but it’s okay. It has whatever kind of milk you want—almond, soy, whatever …’ Miles is babbling.

Oli smiles reassuringly. ‘Sounds great.’

Cooper and Oli follow Miles up the open curved staircase. Oli shoots Cooper daggers while he comments enthusiastically on the ugly décor and asks Miles inane questions about his job. The cafe consists of a dozen tables and chairs, a mismatched collection of fake pot plants arranged around a coffee machine, and a chirpy-looking waitress. A line of people are waiting for takeaway coffees, eyes glued to their phones, and a few groups of people in suits are having meetings, but there are some empty tables on the other side of the room.

‘Cooper, why don’t you grab us some drinks?’ Oli says loudly. ‘I’ll have a short black, please. Miles, what would you like?’

‘Oh, ah, green tea, please.’