The Secret Place (Dublin Murder Squad, #5)(89)

Joanne was half-smiling, unconsciously, remembering. ‘I was there, “OhmyGod, I can’t believe I’m doing this, climbing around in the dark like some skanger; you’d better buy me something nice after this,” but I was just joking. It was actually . . . fun. We were laughing so hard. We had fun, that day.’

A wisp of a laugh. A frail thing, lost, drifting between the slick posters and the makeup-smeared tissues. Not a laugh she’d learned off some reality star and practised; just her, missing that day.

Here was why she had needed to see Selena and Chris through a dirty snicker and a gagging noise. That was the only way she could stand to look.

I said, ‘So what happened? You were together a couple of months, you said. Why’d you split up?’

That slammed Joanne shut again. Fake stare clanging into place, vein of hurt vanished behind it. ‘I broke up with him. I feel sooo terrible about it now—’

‘Ah-ah,’ Conway said, waving the bag again. ‘That’s not what this says.’

‘You kept texting him and ringing him after he stopped answering,’ I explained. Joanne’s mouth thinned. ‘What happened?’

She got on top of that one faster than I expected. With another sigh: ‘Well. Chris got frightened of his feelings. I mean, like I already told you, what we had was totally special? Like really intense?’ Wide earnest eyes, parted lips, voice pitched high. She was being someone off the telly; I hadn’t a clue who, don’t watch the right stuff. ‘And a lot of guys can’t cope with that. I think Chris was just kind of immature. If he was alive, then probably by now we’d be . . .’ Another sigh. Gaze drifting off, at a picturesque angle, into the might-have-beens.

‘You must’ve been well annoyed with him,’ I said.

Joanne flicked hair. With an edge to her voice: ‘Um, I so didn’t care?’

I went puzzled. ‘Seriously? I wouldn’t’ve thought you were used to being dumped. You are, yeah?’

More edge. The wide-eyed thing was wearing off fast. ‘No, I’m not. Nobody’s ever dumped me.’

‘Except Chris.’

‘Well, I was about to dump him anyway. That’s why I said—’

‘How come? I thought the relationship was great, he just got overloaded ’cause he was immature. But you’re not immature, are you?’

‘No. I just—’ Joanne was thinking fast. Hand going to her heart: ‘I knew it was more than he could handle. I was going to set him free. “If you love something—”’

‘Then why’d you keep texting him after he stopped texting you?’

‘I was just telling him. That I understood, you know, how it was too intense? That, I mean, I wasn’t going to wait for him or anything, but I hoped we could be friends. Stuff like that. I can’t remember.’

‘Not giving out to him, no? Because we’ve got someone pulling the actual texts. We’ll be able to read them any minute.’

‘I don’t remember. I guess I could’ve been a teeny bit startled, but I wasn’t angry or anything.’

Conway shifted her back against the wall. Warning me: if I pushed this any harder, we were over that line and into inadmissible.

‘I understand,’ I said. Leaned in, hands clasped. ‘Joanne. Listen to me.’ I put that epic ring back into my voice: a speech to inspire the brave young heroine. ‘You had the key. You believed your relationship with Chris wasn’t over. You kept an eye on Chris when he came into the grounds at night. Do you see where I’m going with this?’

That flat stare turned wary. Joanne shrugged.

‘I think you were out there the night he died, and I think you saw something. No’ – I raised a hand, masterful – ‘let me finish. Maybe you’re protecting someone. Maybe you’re afraid. Maybe you don’t want to believe what you saw. I’m sure you’ve got a good reason for saying you weren’t there.’

Conway, in the corner of my eye, giving me a sliver of a nod. We were back on safe ground. If Joanne repeated that speech to her counsel someday, it said witness, loud and clear. But if it worked, if she admitted to being at the scene, she crossed over the line to suspect, no leeway left.

‘But I’m also sure, Joanne, I’m just as sure that you saw something, or heard something. You know who killed Chris Harper.’ I let my voice rise. ‘Time to stop hiding it. You heard what Detective Conway said, earlier. It’s time to tell us – before we find out on our own, or someone else does. Now.’

Joanne wailed, ‘But I don’t! Honest to God, I swear, I didn’t go out that night! I hadn’t been out in weeks.’

‘You’re trying to tell me you didn’t have anyone to meet? Almost six months after Chris dumped you, you were still single?’

‘Not still – I went out with Oisín O’Donovan for a while, you can ask anyone, but I dumped him weeks before Chris happened! Ask him. I wasn’t out that night. I don’t know anything. I swear!’

Huge-eyed, hand-wringing, all the trimmings: the way she’d learnt that innocent looked, off the telly or wherever. Truth or lie, it would look exactly the same.

Another minute and she’d be scrunching up her face, trying to cry. Conway’s eye said Kill it.

I eased back, on the soft intimate squash of Gemma’s bed. Joanne drew a long shaky breath, snatched a sideways glance at me to make sure I’d caught it.