Their room was two doors down from Orla’s. It had that same feeling, left in a hurry: locker doors open, clothes dropped in the dash. This time, though, I knew straight off what bit belonged to who, no need to check the bedside photos. Bright red bed linen, vintage poster of Max’s Kansas City: Julia. Old-looking patchwork quilt, poem written out poster-size in careful art-project calligraphy: Rebecca. Hanging mobile made of curled silver forks and spoons, good black-and-white photo that looked like a rock against low sky, till you looked twice and it was an old man’s profile: Holly. And Conway had been bang on about Selena: no dreamcatcher, but over her bed was a print of some medium-quality old oil, unicorn bending to drink at a dark lake by moonlight. Conway caught it too. Her eyes met mine, and the shadow of a private grin flipped back and forth between us. Before I knew it, it felt good.
Julia bounced down on her bed, propped herself up on her pillow, hands behind her head. Stretched out her legs – she was in jeans, a bright orange T-shirt with Patti Smith on, hair down – and crossed her ankles. Nice and comfy. ‘Hit me,’ she said.
Conway didn’t fuck about with fairy tales this time. She whipped out the evidence envelope, dangled it from finger and thumb in front of Julia’s face. Stood over her and watched. I got out my notebook.
Julia took her time. Let Conway hold the bag while she read the book’s title. ‘Is this a hint? I should be more virtuous?’
Conway said, ‘Are we gonna find your prints on that?’
Julia pointed at the book. ‘You think this is my bedtime reading? Seriously?’
‘Cute. Don’t do that again. We ask, you answer.’
Sigh. ‘No you are not going to find my prints on this OK thank you for asking. The only way I read about saints is when I’m forced to for essays. And even then I do, like, Joan of Arc. Not some simpering wimp.’
‘Wouldn’t know the difference,’ Conway said. ‘You can explain it to me some other time. Inside that book there’s a key to the connecting door between here and the school. Belonged to Joanne and her gang, last year.’
One of Julia’s eyebrows flicked; that was all. ‘OMG. I’m like totally shocked.’
‘Yeah. Orla says it’s a copy of one you had.’
Julia sighed. ‘Oh, Orla,’ she said to the air. ‘Who’s a predictable little girl? You are! Yes you!’
‘You’re saying Orla’s lying?’
‘Um, duh? I’ve never had a key to that door. But Joanne isn’t stupid. She knows that anyone who had that key could’ve been outside the night Chris died, plus anyone who had that key is in
‘Joanne didn’t tell us. Orla did.’
‘Right. With Joanne’s hand up her arse.’
‘Why would Joanne want to get you lot in hassle?’
Eyebrow. ‘You didn’t notice that she’s not exactly our biggest fan?’
‘Yeah,’ Conway said. ‘We noticed. Why’s that, again?’
Julia shrugged. ‘Who cares?’
‘We do.’
‘So ask Joanne. Because I don’t.’
‘If someone was pissed off enough with me to try and get me expelled and arrested, I’d care why.’
‘That is why. Because we don’t care what Joanne thinks. In her tiny mind, that’s like a mortal sin.’
Conway said, ‘Not because Selena was going out with Chris.’
Julia mimed banging her forehead off her palm. ‘Oh my God, if I have to hear that one more time I’m going to stick pens through my eardrums. It’s a
‘Gemma saw them. Snogging.’
Flash of something, just the one: that had caught Julia off guard. Then a finger-wag. ‘Uh-uh. Orla says Gemma says she saw them. Which isn’t the same thing.’
Conway leaned back against the wall beside Julia’s bed. Held up the bag and tapped it with a finger, watched it spin.
‘What’s Selena going to say, if I give up on you and go ask her? You know I don’t ask nicely.’
Julia’s face pulled tight. ‘She’s going to say the same thing she said when you asked her last year.’
Conway said, ‘I wouldn’t bet on it. You have to have noticed: Selena’s not the same as she was last year.’
That hit home. I saw Julia weigh something up, stacking and balancing. Saw her decide.
She said, ‘Selena wasn’t the one going out with Chris. Joanne was.’
‘Right,’ Conway said. ‘You say she was, she says Selena was, me and Detective Moran get to play Here We Go Round the Rumour Bush till early in the morning.’
Julia shrugged. ‘Believe it or don’t, whatever. But Joanne was going out with Chris for a couple of months, before last Christmas. Then he dumped her flat on her arse. She didn’t like that one little bit.’
Conway and I didn’t look at each other, didn’t need to. Motive.
If it was true. This case was jammed with lies, couldn’t grab hold of it without getting a handful.
Conway said, jaw hardening, ‘How come no one said anything about this last year?’
Shrug.
