The Secret Place (Dublin Murder Squad, #5)(46)

A small sigh. The picture in her mind folded away, slid into its drawer. She was looking at us again.

‘When I think about Chris, that’s what I think about. That day.’

A girl like Rebecca, that day could have meant a lot. Could have rooted and grown, inside her mind.

Conway moved. Said, ‘You got a boyfriend?’

‘No.’

Instant. Almost scornful, like it was a stupid question: You got a rocket ship?

‘Why not?’

‘Do I have to?’

‘A lot of people do.’

Rebecca said flatly, ‘I don’t.’

She didn’t give a f*ck what either of us thought of that. Not Alison, not Orla. The opposite.

Conway said, ‘We’ll see you around.’

Rebecca left stuffing my card in her pocket, forgetting it already. Conway said, ‘Not our girl.’

‘Nah.’

She didn’t say it. I had to. ‘Took me a while to get off the ground.’

Conway nodded. ‘Yeah. Not your fault. I steered you wrong.’

She’d gone absent, eyes narrowed on something.

I said, ‘I think I got it right in the end. No harm done, that I could see.’

‘Maybe not,’ Conway said. ‘This f*cking place. Trips you up every time you turn around. Whatever you do, turns out it was the wrong call.’



Julia Harte. Conway didn’t brief me on her, not after how Rebecca had gone, but I knew as soon as Julia walked in the door she was the boss of that outfit. Short, with dark curly hair fighting a ponytail. A bit more weight on her than the rest, a few more curves, a walk that showed them. Not pretty – roundy face, bump on her nose – but a good chin, small chin with plenty of stubborn, and good eyes: hazel, long-lashed, direct and smart as hell. No glance at the Secret Place, but there wouldn’t have been either way, not with this one.

‘Detective Conway,’ she said. Nice voice, deeper than most girls’, more controlled. Made her sound older. ‘Did you miss us that much?’

A smart-arse. That can work for us, work nicely. Smart-arses talk when they shouldn’t, say anything as long as it’ll come out good and snappy.

Conway pointed at the chair. Julia sat down, crossed her knees. Looked me up, looked me down.

I said, ‘I’m Stephen Moran. Julia Harte, right?’

‘At your service. What can I do for you?’

Smart-arses want a chance to be smart. ‘You tell me. Anything you think I should know?’

‘About what?’

‘You pick.’ And I grinned at her, like we were old sparring partners who’d missed each other.

Julia grinned back. ‘Don’t eat the yellow snow. Never play leapfrog with a unicorn.’

Ten seconds in, and it was a conversation, not an interview. The boy was back in town. I felt Conway ease back on the table; felt the whoosh of relief go through me.

‘I’ll make a note of that,’ I said. ‘Meanwhile, why don’t you tell me what you did yesterday evening? Start with first study period.’

Julia sighed. ‘Here I was hoping we could talk about something interesting. Any reason why we’re going for, like, the most boring thing in the world?’

I said, ‘You’ll get your info once I’ve got mine. Maybe. Till then, no fishing.’

Twitch of her mouth, appreciative. ‘Deal. Here you go: boring storytime.’

The same story as Rebecca’s: the art project, the key, the forgotten picture and the toilet breaks and the chalk, the too busy to look at the board. No mismatches. It was true, or they were good.

I brought out the photo. Did the fingertip flip. ‘Have you put up any cards in the Secret Place?’

Julia snorted. ‘Jesus, no. Not my thing.’

‘No?’

Her eye on the photo. ‘Truly, madly, deeply no.’

‘So you didn’t put up this one.’

‘Um, since I didn’t put up any of them, I’m going to go with no?’

I held out the photo. Julia took it. Blank-faced, all set up to give away nothing.

She turned the photo towards her and went still. The whole room went still.

Then she shrugged. Handed the photo back to me, almost tossed it.

‘You’ve met Joanne Heffernan, right? If you find anything she won’t do for attention, I’d love to hear it. It probably involves YouTube and a German shepherd.’ Squeak from Houlihan. Julia’s eyes went to her and flicked away again, insta-bored.

‘Julia,’ I said. ‘Messing aside, just for a sec. If this was you, we need to know.’

‘I actually do know serious when I see it. That was totally, one hundred per cent not me.’

Julia wasn’t out. Almost out; not quite. ‘You figure Joanne’s behind it?’

Another shrug. ‘The only people you had waiting outside the office were us and Joanne’s little poodles – plus you’re asking about yesterday evening, so it has to be someone who was in the school then. It wasn’t us, so that leaves them. And the other three don’t scratch their arses unless Joanne says they can. ’Scuse my language.’

I said, ‘How come you’re so sure none of your mates put this up?’

‘Because. I know them.’