The Secret Place (Dublin Murder Squad, #5)(156)

Moths whirling, out over the lawn.

I said, carefully, ‘Rebecca’s only a little thing. Chris was a big strong guy. You think she could’ve . . . ?’

Gemma said, ‘She’s a stroppy cow, is what she is, when she feels like it. If he really pissed her off . . .’

‘The papers said head injuries,’ Joanne said. ‘If he was sitting down, then it wouldn’t matter that she was smaller than him.’

Orla said, practically lifting up off the grass with the thrill, ‘She could’ve hit him with a rock.’

‘Ew.’ Joanne, reproving. ‘We don’t actually know it was a rock. The papers never said.’ And looked at me, question marks popping out all over. Gemma and Orla watched too, eager, bubbling with curiosity.

Not faking. None of them knew about the hoe.

More than that: no shake in their voices, no shadow sliding under their faces, when they talked about the moment that had robbed Chris Harper’s life away. They could’ve been talking about cheating on an exam. Till then, one snip of me had wondered if they were making up the Rebecca story to steer me away from one of them, but no. None of these had ever touched murder.

I said, ‘That’s great. Thanks a million for telling me.’ Smiled at them all.

‘I wasn’t about to say it in front of Detective Bitchface,’ Gemma said. ‘I’d probably be in jail right now. You’re not going to get me in trouble, right? Because like I said—’

‘No trouble. I might ask you to give me a statement at some stage, if I really need one – no, hang on, it won’t get you in hassle. You can just say you went into the shed to get out of the rain, which is true, right? You won’t need to explain why you were outside to start with. Yeah?’

Gemma didn’t look convinced. Joanne didn’t care about her. Leaning closer, fizzing with excitement: ‘So you think Rebecca did it. Right? That’s what you think.’

I said, ‘I think I’d like to know what Rebecca was doing in there. That’s all.’

Knelt up, dusted dirt and grass off my trousers. Kept it casual, but I was rattling with it, how badly I wanted to shoot up off that grass and leg it. I could have Rebecca. I could grope my way through streaks of light and whirling moths till I found her and Julia and Selena, dark eyes watching for me out of the dark under cypresses. I could ring the locals for a marked car and a social worker and have Rebecca in an interview room before Conway let go her pit-bull grab on Holly. If I worked it just right and kept my phone off, I could have a confession on O’Kelly’s desk before Conway tracked me down. By morning I could be the hotshot who, in twelve hours, had solved the big one that had stumped Conway for a year.

Joanne said, ‘Stay and talk with us. We’ll have to go inside soon anyway; you can go talk to boring Rebecca then.’

‘Yeah,’ Orla said. ‘We’re way more interesting than her.’

For a second I thought – the stupid swelled head on me – they might still be scared, want the big strong man to protect them. But they were comfy as cats on the grass. All the fear had run right out of them, once they were the powerful ones taking me where they wanted me, to whisper their saved-up secret in my ear.

I said, smiling, ‘I’d say you are, all right. But I’d better get this sorted out.’

Joanne pouted. ‘We helped you. Now that you’ve got what you want off us, you’re just going to dump us and run?’

‘Typical guy,’ said Gemma, up to the branches, shaking her head.

Joanne said, ‘I told you before. I don’t let guys treat me like crap.’

Some first warning got to me, through the Go go go drumming in my ears. I said, ‘I’m under a bit of time pressure, is all. It’s not that I don’t appreciate what you’ve done for me. Believe me.’

Joanne said, ‘Then stay.’ Lifted one finger and laid it on my knee. Cute nose-wrinkle smile, like a joke, but half a second too late. Orla sucked in breath, shocked, and giggled it out.

Somehow I stopped myself from leaping and running. If I f*cked up now, I was f*cked a dozen ways.

Gemma said, ‘Don’t look so terrified. We’re fun. Honest.’

Smiling at me, her too. It looked friendly, but she was written in a code I couldn’t begin to read. They all were. That bad-alleyway prickle that had faded for a bit, while they had me busy feeling like something they wanted and loving it; that was rising hard up the back of my neck again.

Joanne’s fingernail ran an inch higher up my thigh. All of them giggling, tongues nipped between sharp little teeth. It was a game, and I was part of it, but I couldn’t tell what part. I tried laughing. They laughed back.

‘So,’ Joanne said. Another inch. ‘Talk to us.’

Smack her hand away, leg it back to the school like my arse was on fire, bang on the art-room door and beg Conway to let me back in if I promised to be good. Instead I said, ‘Let’s think this through for a second. Shall we?’

Put on my stuffiest voice. Thought teacher, thought McKenna, thought everything they didn’t want. Picked them out one by one, looking them in the eye, separating them out: not triple and dangerous; just schoolgirls being very silly.

‘Gemma, I realise that it took a lot of courage for you to give me this information. And Joanne, I realise that Gemma probably wouldn’t have plucked up that courage without your support – and yours, Orla. So, after you’ve gone to considerable trouble to bring me this potentially valuable material, I’m not inclined to waste it.’