I’d never heard of the O’Farrell case. But I knew, it slid from Conway to me like a note passed in class, what she was at. She wanted Orla scared.

I shot her a wide-eyed warning grimace, shook my head.

‘What? The O’Farrell case, me and Detective Moran worked that one together. The guy, right, he used to beat the shite out of his wife—’

‘Conway.’ I jerked my chin at Orla.

‘What?’

‘She’s just a kid.’

Conway tossed the magazine onto Alison’s bed. ‘Bollix. You just a kid?’

‘Huh?’ Orla caught up. ‘Um, no?’

‘See?’ Conway said to me. ‘So. One day O’Farrell’s giving the wife the slaps, her little dog goes for him – trying to protect its mistress, yeah? The guy throws it out of the room, goes back to what he’s doing—’

I did an exasperated sigh, rubbed my hair into a mess. Started cruising round the room, see what I could see. Handful of tissues in the bin, smudged that weird orangey-pink that doesn’t exist outside makeup. A bust Biro. No scraps of book.

‘But the dog’s scrabbling at the door, whining, barking, O’Farrell can’t concentrate. He opens the door, grabs the dog, smashes its brains out on the wall. Then he finishes off the wife.’

‘OhmyGod. Ew.’

Gemma’s phone was on her bedside locker, Alison’s was on her bed. I couldn’t see the other two, but Joanne’s locker was an inch open. ‘OK if I have a look around?’ I asked Orla. Not a proper search, that could wait; just having a look-see, and unsettling her a little extra while I was at it.

‘Um, do you . . . ? Like, do you have to?’ She fumbled for a way to say no, but my hand was halfway to the locker door and her mind was halfway on Conway’s fairy tale. ‘I guess it’s OK. I mean—’

‘Thanks.’ Not that I needed her permission; just staying the good cop. Cheerful smile, I gave her, and straight in. Orla opened her mouth to take it back, but Conway was moving in closer.

‘We show up’ – Conway gestured at the two of us – ‘O’Farrell swears it was a burglar. He was good; we nearly fell for it. But then we sit him down in his kitchen, start asking questions. Every time O’Farrell gives us some crap about his imaginary burglar, or about how much he loved his wife, there’s this weird noise outside the door.’

Joanne’s bedside locker: hair straightener, makeup, fake tan, iPod, jewellery box. No books, old or new; no phone. Had to be on her.