I smiled back. ‘Did you have a look at the Secret Place, while you were out there?’
‘No.’
‘No? You’re not into it?’
Gemma shrugged. ‘It’s mostly stupid. Basically all of it is “Oh, everyone’s mean to me and I’m so unique!” Which, hello, they totally never are? If anything juicy goes up, everyone’s talking about it anyway. I don’t need to look.’
‘Ever put up any cards of your own?’
Another shrug. ‘Back when they first put the board up. Just for the laugh. I don’t even remember all of them. We made some of them up.’ Small flurry of concern from Houlihan’s corner. Gemma gave herself a little slap on the wrist. ‘Bad girl.’ Amused.
I said, ‘How about this one?’ Passed Gemma the photo.
Gemma’s foot stopped swinging. Her eyebrows hit her hairline.
After a second, slowly: ‘Oh. My. God.’
Real. Caught in the quickening of her breath, in the darkened eyes, slashing through all that carefully built sexiness: something true. Not our girl. Two down.
I said, ‘Did you put that up?’
Gemma shook her head. Still scanning the card, looking for sense.
‘No? Just for the laugh?’
‘I’m not stupid. My dad’s a solicitor. I know this isn’t a laugh.’
‘Any idea who might have?’
Head-shake.
‘If you had to guess.’
‘I don’t know. Honest to God. I’d be surprised if it was Joanne or Orla or Alison, but I’m not swearing it wasn’t, or anything. I’m just saying, if it was, they never told me.’
Two out of two, now, ready to throw their mates in the shite so they could leap away unspattered. Lovely.
Gemma said, ‘But there were other people in here, yesterday evening. After us.’
‘Holly Mackey and her friends.’
‘Yeah. Them.’
‘Them. What are they like?’
Gemma’s eye on me, wary. She held out the photo. ‘I don’t know. We don’t really talk to them.’
‘Why not?’
Shrug.
I gave her a grin with a glint. ‘Let me guess. I’d say your lot are pretty popular with the fellas. Holly and them, were they cramping your style?’
‘They’re just not our type.’ Arms folded. Gemma wasn’t biting.
Something was there. Orla might believe all that about Selena wearing the wrong get-up to the dance, might not, but Gemma knew better. Something else had got in between these two lots.
If Conway wanted any pushing done, she could do it herself. Not my job. Mr Lovely, me; the one you can talk to. If I threw that away, Conway had no reason to keep me around.
Conway said nothing.
‘Fair enough,’ I said. ‘Let’s talk about Chris Harper. Got any ideas about what happened to him?’
Shrug. ‘Some psycho. Whatshisname, the groundskeeper, the one you guys arrested. Or some randomer. How would I know?’
Arms still folded. I leaned forward, gave her a grin out of a late-night bar. ‘Gemma. Talk to me. Try this: pick one thing to tell me about Chris Harper. One thing that mattered.’
Gemma thought. Stretched out her long crossed leg, ran a hand up and down her calf; we were back. I watched, so she could catch me. Itched to push my chair back a few feet. I could have kissed Conway just for existing. Gemma was dangerous as fuck, and she knew it.
She said, ‘Chris was the total last person you would’ve expected to get killed.’
‘Yeah? How come?’