The Secret Place (Dublin Murder Squad, #5)(47)

An echo of that note that had rung through Rebecca’s voice. That signal-flash again, so bright it almost hurt my eyes. Something different. Something rare.

I shook my head. ‘You don’t know them inside out. Trust me. Doesn’t happen.’

Julia looked back at me. One eyebrow raised: Is there a question here?

I could feel Conway, hot. Holding back.

I said, ‘Tell us. You have to have thought about who killed Chris. What’s your guess?’

‘Colm’s guys. His friends. They’re the type who’d think it was totally hilarious to climb in here to play some joke – steal something, paint “SLUTS” on a wall, whatever. And they’re the type who’d think it was a wonderful idea to start messing about in the dark with sticks and rocks and anything else dangerous they could find. Someone got a little overexcited, and . . .’

Julia spread her hands. Same gesture as Rebecca. Same story as Rebecca, almost word for word. They’d talked it over.

I said, ‘Yeah, we heard something about Colm’s boys spray-painting a picture on the grass, a few years back. Was that Chris and his mates?’

‘Who knows. They didn’t get caught, whoever they were. Personally, I’d say no. We were in first year when that happened, so Chris would’ve been in second year. I don’t think a bunch of second-years would’ve had the guts.’

‘What was the picture of?’

Another squeak from Houlihan. Julia threw her a finger-wave. ‘Scientifically speaking, a great big penis and testicles. They’re such imaginative boys, over at Colm’s.’

I said, ‘Any reason you think that’s what happened to Chris?’

‘Who, me? I’m just guessing. I leave the detecting to the professionals.’ Batted her eyelashes at me, chin tucked down, watched for a reaction. Not sexy, not Gemma. Mocking. ‘Can I go?’

I said, ‘You’re in some hurry to get back to class. Studious type, yeah?’

‘Don’t I look like a good little schoolgirl to you?’

Little pout, mock-provocative. Still nudging for that reaction.

I said, ‘Tell me one thing about Chris. One thing that mattered.’

Julia dropped the pout. She thought, eyes down. She thought like an adult: taking her time, not worried about letting us wait.

In the end she said, ‘Chris’s dad is a banker. He’s rich. Very, very rich.’

‘And?’

‘And that’s probably the most important thing I can tell you about Chris.’

‘He was flash with it? Always had the best stuff, used it to pull rank?’

Slow head-shake, click of her tongue. ‘Nothing like that. He was a lot less of a show-off than most of his friends. But he had it. Always. And first. No waiting for Christmas or his birthday. He wanted it, he had it.’

Conway moved. Said, ‘Sounds like you knew Chris’s gang pretty well.’

‘I didn’t have much choice. Colm’s is like two minutes away, we do all kinds of activities together. We see each other.’

‘Ever go out with any of them?’

‘God, give me some credit. No.’

‘You got a boyfriend?’

‘No.’

‘Why not?’

Julia’s eyebrow arching. ‘Since I’m such a total babe? All we meet is Colm’s guys, and I’m holding out for someone who can actually have conversations in words of more than one syllable. I’m so picky.’

Conway said, ‘OK. You can go. You think of anything, you ring us.’

I passed Julia my card. She took it. Didn’t stand up.

She said, ‘Can I ask you for a piece of that info? Now that I’ve been such a good girl and given you all mine.’

‘Go for it,’ I said. ‘Can’t swear I’ll answer, but go ahead and ask.’

‘How did you hear about that card?’

‘How do you think?’

‘Ah,’ Julia said. ‘I guess you did warn me. It’s been fun, Detectives. See you around.’

She stood up, automatically gave her waistband a quick roll so her skirt came above her knees. Walked out, without waiting for Houlihan.

I said, once Houlihan had skittered after her, ‘The card was a shock.’

‘That or she’s good,’ Conway said. She was still watching the door, tapping her pen off her notebook. ‘And she’s good.’



Selena Wynne.

All gold and bloom. Huge sleepy blue eyes, cream-and-rosy face, full soft mouth. Blond hair – the real thing – curling in short raggedy ringlets like a little boy’s. Nowhere near fat – Joanne had been talking out of her hole – but she had curves, soft round ones, made her look older than sixteen. Lovely, Selena was; the kind of lovely that couldn’t last. You could see that somewhere this summer, maybe even this afternoon, this was the loveliest she’d ever be.

You don’t want to notice this stuff on a kid, your mind wants to jump away. But it matters, same as it would on a grown woman. Changes every day of her life. So you notice. Scrape the greasy feeling off your mind whatever way you can.

Posh girls’ school: lovely and safe, I’d’ve thought, if I’d thought. Beats a council estate where buses won’t go. But I was starting to see it, out of the corner of my eye: the shimmer in the air that says danger. Not aimed at me personally, no more than it would’ve been in that estate, but there.