Conway pointed at the photo in my hand. ‘So why’d you bring us this? If Chris was such a prick, why do you give a damn if whoever killed him gets caught?’

Good-girl gaze. ‘My dad’s a detective. He’d want me to do the right thing. Whether I liked Chris or not.’

Lie again. I know Holly’s da. Doing the good-boy thing for its own sake isn’t on his horizon. He never did anything in his life without an agenda.

Got fuck-all out of her, Conway had said. Like pulling teeth. Last year, Holly hadn’t wanted the killer caught, or hadn’t cared enough to stick her neck out. This year, she cared. I needed to find why.

‘Holly,’ I said. Leaned forward, close, held her eyes: It’s me, talk to me. ‘There’s a reason why you’re so into getting this solved, all of a sudden. You need to tell me what it is. You have to know from your da: anything like that could help us out, even if you don’t see how.’

Holly said, straight on and no flinch, ‘I don’t know what you mean. There’s no reason. I’m just trying to do the right thing.’ To Conway: ‘Can I go?’

‘You got a boyfriend?’ Conway asked.

‘No.’

‘Why not?’

Angel face. ‘I’m so too busy. With school and everything.’

‘Such a good little student,’ Conway said. ‘You can go.’  To Houlihan: ‘All eight of them. In here.’

When they were gone, Conway said, ‘If Holly knew who killed Chris. Would she go to you or her da? Tell someone straight out?’

Or would she make up a card to bring me. I said, ‘Maybe not. She’s been a witness before, it wasn’t a great experience; she might not be on for doing it again. But if she had something she wanted to give us, she’d make good and sure we got it. Anonymous letter, probably, with all the details laid out nice and clear. Not a something-and-nothing hint like that card.’

Conway thought, pen flicking between two fingers. Nodded. ‘Fair enough. Tell you what I noticed, but. Your Holly talks like, whoever put up the card, she wanted it to get to us. She’s assuming this card wasn’t just meant to get a secret off someone’s chest; this girl wanted to tell us something, and this was the best way she could find.’

She wasn’t my Holly. That was getting obvious, to me anyway. I didn’t say it.

I said, ‘Holly could be feeling bad about coming to me. That age, taking something to adults is a big deal; makes you a rat, and that’s about the dirtiest thing you can be. So she’s convincing herself the girl wanted her to do it.’