‘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.
Selena stood in the doorway, swinging the door back and forth like a little kid. Gazing at us.
Behind her Houlihan murmured, trying to nudge Selena forward. Selena didn’t notice. She said, to Conway, ‘I remember you.’
‘Same here,’ said Conway. Her glance at me, as she headed back to her chair, said Selena hadn’t clocked the Secret Place. Zero out of seven. Our card girl had self-control. ‘Why don’t you have a seat.’
Selena moved forward. Sat down, obedient and incurious. Examined me like I was a new painting on one of the easels.
I said, ‘I’m Detective Stephen Moran. Selena Wynne, am I right?’
She nodded. Still that gaze, lips parted. No questions, no what’s-this-about, no wariness.
And no point in trying to bond with this one. I could burst my bollix trying, get the same answers as if I’d sent a list of questions by e-mail. Selena wanted nothing from me. She barely knew I was real.
Slow, I thought. Slow or sick or hurt, or whatever this year’s approved words are. The first snip of why Joanne’s lot thought these were freaks.
I said, ‘Can you tell me what you did yesterday evening?’
Same story as the other three, or bits of it. She wasn’t sure who’d asked for permission, who’d left the art room; looked vague at me when I asked if she’d gone to the toilet. Agreed that she might’ve done, but agreed like she was saying it to make me happy, being kind because it didn’t matter to her either way.
She hadn’t looked at the Secret Place, any time during the evening. I asked, ‘Have you put up any cards there?’
Selena shook her head.
‘No? Never?’
‘I don’t really get the Secret Place. I don’t even like reading it.’
‘Why not? You don’t like secrets? Or you figure they should stay secret?’
She wove her fingers together, watched them fascinated, the way babies do. Soft eyebrows pulling together, just a touch. ‘I just don’t like it. It bothers me.’
I said, ‘So this isn’t yours.’ Slapped the photo into her hands.
Her fingers were so loose, the photo fell right through them, spun to the ground. She just watched it fall. I had to pick it up for her.
It got us nothing, this time. Selena held it and gazed at it for so long, not a budge in that sweet peaceful face, I started wondering had she copped what it meant.
‘Chris,’ she said, in the end. I felt Conway twitch, No shit Sherlock.
I said, ‘Someone put that up in the Secret Place. Was it you?’
Selena shook her head.
‘Selena. If it was, you’re not in any trouble. We’re only delighted to have it. But we need to know.’
Another head-shake.
She was mist-smooth, your hand went right through her without touching. No cracks to jimmy, no loose threads to pull. No way in.