Holly reached between wires and touched the scrolls with the tip of her little finger, set them whirling. She said, ‘We don’t even know for sure they were friends. They could’ve all hated each other’s guts.’
I said, ‘It’s beautiful.’
‘Yeah,’ Conway said. Like a warning. ‘It is.’
From behind us: ‘Fancy meeting you here.’
Mackey, in the doorway. Leaning back on his heels, bright blue eyes scanning, hands in the pockets of his brown leather jacket. Barely changed from the first time I’d seen him; the long fluorescents picked out deeper crows’ feet, more grey mixed in with the brown, but that was all.
‘Hiya, chickadee,’ he said. ‘How’s tricks?’
‘OK,’ Holly said. She looked at least half glad to see him, which is pretty good for a sixteen-year-old’s daddy. Another thing that hadn’t changed much: Mackey and Holly made a good team.
‘What’ve you been chatting about?’
‘Our art project. Don’t worry, Dad.’
‘Just making sure you haven’t made mincemeat of these nice people while I wasn’t there to protect them.’ Mackey switched to me. ‘Stephen. Too long no see.’ He came forward, held out his hand. Firm handshake, friendly smile. At least to start with, we were going to play this like everything was hunky-dory, all friends together, all on the same side.
I said, ‘Thanks for coming in. We’ll try not to keep you too long.’
‘And Detective Conway. Nice to meet you, after all the good things I’ve heard. Frank Mackey.’ A smile that was used to getting a response, got none off her. ‘Let’s step outside while you brief me.’
‘You’re not here as a detective,’ Conway said. ‘We’ve got that covered. Thanks.’
Mackey tossed me an eyebrow-lift and grin: Who pissed in her cornflakes? I got caught, not sure whether to smile back or not – with Mackey, you never know what he could turn into ammo. The paralysed gawp on me just made his grin get bigger.
He said to Conway, ‘Then if I’m just here as a daddy, I’d like a quick chat with my daughter.’
‘We need to get started. You can have a chat when we take a break.’
Mackey didn’t argue. Probably Conway thought that meant she’d won. He wandered off around the room, past the chair we’d set out for him, having a look at the art projects. Gave Holly’s hair a quick rub on his way. ‘Do us a favour, sweetheart. Before you answer any of the lovely detectives’ questions, give me a fast rundown of what we’re doing here.’
Shutting her down would wreck the vibe right there. Conway’s look said she was starting to see what I meant about Mackey. Holly said, ‘This morning I found a card on the Secret Place. It had a photo of Chris Harper and it said, “I know who killed him.” I took it to Stephen, and they’ve been hanging around here all day. They just keep interviewing all of us and all of Joanne Heffernan’s idiots, so I think they narrowed it down to one of us eight must’ve put the card up.’
‘Interesting,’ Mackey said. Leaned over, examined the wire school from different angles. ‘That’s coming along nicely. Anyone else’s parents get brought in?’
Holly shook her head.
‘Professional courtesy,’ Conway said.
‘Makes me feel all warm and squishy,’ Mackey said. He pulled himself up onto a windowsill, one foot swinging. ‘You remember the deal here, sweetheart, am I right? Answer what you want to, leave what you don’t. You want to discuss something with me before you answer it, we’ll do that. Anything upsets you or makes you uncomfortable, tell me and we’ll make tracks. That all sound OK?’
‘Dad,’ Holly said. ‘I’m fine.’
‘I know you are. Just laying out the ground rules, so everyone’s clear.’ He winked at me. ‘Keeps everything nice, amn’t I right?’
Conway swung a leg over her chair. Said, to Holly, ‘You are not obliged to say anything unless you wish to do so, but anything you do say will be taken down in writing and may be used in evidence. Got it?’
You try to keep it casual, the caution, but it changes the room. Mackey’s face giving away nothing. Holly’s eyebrows pulling together: this was new. ‘What . . . ?’
Conway said, ‘You’ve been keeping stuff to yourself. That makes us get careful.’
I took my seat, opposite Holly. Held out a hand to Conway. She sent the lost-and-found phone, in its evidence bag, shooting down the table.
I passed it over to Holly. ‘Ever seen this before?’
A puzzled second; then Holly’s face cleared. ‘Yeah. It’s Alison’s.’
‘No. She has one the same, but that’s not it.’
Shrug. ‘Then I don’t know whose it is.’
‘That’s not what I need to know. I’m asking if you’ve seen it before.’
Longer puzzled look, slow head-shake. ‘Don’t think so.’
I said, ‘We have a witness who saw you drop it in the lost-and-found bin, the day after Chris Harper died.’
Total blank; then realisation dawned across Holly’s face. ‘Oh my God, that! I’d totally forgotten that. Yeah. We had a special assembly that morning, so McKenna could give us this big speech about a tragedy and assisting the police and whatever.’ Talky-mouth hand sign. ‘At the end we were all coming out of the hall into the foyer, and that phone was on the floor. I thought it was Alison’s, but I couldn’t see her; everything was a mess, everyone was talking and crying and hugging, the teachers were all trying to get us to shut up and go back to our classrooms . . . I just shoved the phone into the lost-and-found bin. I figured Alison could get it herself; not my problem. If it wasn’t hers, then whose was it?’
Flawless, even better than the real thing. And – clever clever girl – her story kept the whole school in the frame for having owned the phone. Conway’s jaded look said she’d spotted the same thing.
I took the phone back. Put it to one side, for later. Didn’t answer Holly’s question, but she didn’t push.
I said, ‘Julia and Selena must’ve told you: we know you guys used to get out at night, last year.’
Holly shot a fast glance at Mackey. ‘Don’t worry about me, chickadee,’ he said, pleasant grin. ‘My statute of limitation’s run out on that one. You’re OK.’
Holly said, to me, ‘So?’
‘What’d yous do out there?’