I asked, ‘Then who do you think it was?’
‘I don’t know.’ Puzzled look, like I was a weirdo to ask.
‘If you had to guess.’
Selena did her best to come up with something; trying to make me happy again. ‘Maybe it was a joke?’
‘Would any of your friends play a joke like that?’
‘Julia and Holly and Becca? No.’
‘What about Joanne Heffernan and her friends? Would they?’
‘I don’t know. I don’t understand most of what they do.’ The mention of them slid a faint frown across Selena’s forehead, but a second later it had faded.
I said, ‘Who do you think killed Chris Harper?’
Selena thought about that for a long time. Sometimes her lips moved, like she was about to start a sentence but then it fell out of her mind. Conway at my shoulder, sizzling with impatience.
In the end Selena said, ‘I don’t think anyone’s ever going to know.’
Her voice had turned clear, strong. For the first time, she was looking at us like she saw us.
Conway said, ‘Why not?’
‘There are things like that. Where no one ever knows what happened.’
Conway said, ‘Don’t you underestimate us. We’re planning on finding out exactly what happened.’
Selena gazed at her. ‘OK,’ she said, mildly. Passed the photo back to me.
I said, ‘If you had to pick one thing to tell me about Chris, what would it be?’
Selena turned back to vague. Drifted off into the sunlight like the dust-motes, lips parted. I waited.
What felt like a long time later, she said, ‘Sometimes I see him.’
She sounded sad. Not scared, not trying to scare us, impress us, nothing. Just so sad.
Twitch from Houlihan. Sound of Conway clamping back a snort.
I said, ‘Yeah? Where?’
‘Different places. On the second-floor landing, once, sitting on the windowsill texting someone. Running laps around the Colm’s playing field, during a match. Once on the grass outside our window, late at night, throwing a ball up in the air. He’s always doing something. It’s like he’s trying to get all the things done that he’ll never have a chance to do, get them done as fast as he can. Or like he’s still trying to be like the rest of us, like maybe he doesn’t realise . . .’
A sudden catch of breath that lifted Selena’s chest. ‘Oh,’ she said quietly, on the sigh out. ‘Poor Chris.’
Not slow, not sick. I had practically forgotten even thinking that. Selena did things to the air, slowed it to her pace, tinted it her pearly colours. Brought you with her, strange places.
I said, ‘Any idea why you see him? Were you close, yeah?’
A flash across Selena’s face, as she raised her head. Just that one flash, there and gone in a blink, too fast to catch and hold. Something sharp, shining through the haze like silver.
‘No,’ she said.
That second, I would’ve sworn to two things. Somewhere, down some tangled thread we might never follow, Selena was at the heart of this case. And I was going to get my fight.
I did puzzled. ‘I thought you were going out with him.’
‘No.’
Nothing more.
‘Then why do you think you see him? If you weren’t close.’
Selena said, ‘I haven’t worked that out yet.’
Conway moved again. ‘When you figure it out, you go right ahead and let us know.’
Selena’s eyes shifted to her. ‘OK,’ she said, peaceably.
Conway said, ‘Have you got a boyfriend?’
Selena shook her head.
‘Why not?’
‘I don’t want one.’
‘Why not?’
Nothing. Conway said, ‘What happened to your hair?’
Selena lifted a hand to her head, puzzled. ‘Oh,’ she said. ‘That. I cut it.’
‘How come?’
She considered that. ‘It felt like the right thing.’
Conway said, again, ‘How come?’
Silence. Selena’s mouth had gone loose again. She wasn’t ignoring us; simpler. She had let go of us.
We were done. We gave her our cards, sent her drifting out of the door with Houlihan, no backward glance.
Conway said, ‘Another one we can’t rule out.’
‘Yeah.’
‘Chris Harper’s ghost,’ Conway said, shaking her head, disgusted. ‘For fuck’s sake. And there’s McKenna upstairs, giving herself pats on the back because her and her shrine got rid of all that carry-on. I’d love to tell her, just to see her face.’
And, last of all, Holly.
Holly had changed her angle – for Conway or for Houlihan, no way to tell. She was all good little schoolgirl, straight back, hands folded in front of her. When she came in the door, she practically curtsied.
It occurred to me, a bit late, that I had no clue what Holly wanted off me.
‘Holly,’ I said. ‘You remember Detective Conway. We both really appreciate you bringing in that card.’ Solemn nod from Holly. ‘We’ve just got a few more questions to ask you.’
‘Course. No problem.’ She sat down, crossed her ankles. I swear her eyes had got bigger and bluer.
‘Can you tell us what you did yesterday evening?’
Same story as the other three, only smoother. No nudging needed here, no going back to correct herself. Holly reeled it off like she’d been rehearsing. Probably she had.
I said, ‘Have you ever put any secrets up on the board?’
‘No.’
‘Never?’