‘We had a football in the yard.’

Conway liked that. ‘One little geebag: I go into the holding room and call out her name for interview, and she goes, “Em, I can’t exactly go now, I’ve got my clarinet lesson in five?”’ That curl rising at the corner of her mouth again. Whatever she’d said to the girl, she’d enjoyed it. ‘Her interview lasted an hour. Hate that.’

‘The school,’ I said. ‘Snobby and good, or just snobby?’

‘I could win the Lotto, still wouldn’t send my kid there. But . . .’ One-shouldered shrug. ‘Small classes. Young Scientist awards everywhere. Everyone’s got perfect teeth, no one ever gets up the duff, and all the shiny little pedigree bitches go on to college. I guess it’s good, if you’re OK with your kid turning out a snobby shite.’

I said, ‘Holly’s da’s a cop. A Dub. From the Liberties.’

‘I know that. You think I missed that?’

‘He wouldn’t send her there if she was turning into a snobby shite.’

Conway edged the MG’s nose past a red light. Green: she floored it. Said, ‘She fancy you?’

I almost laughed. ‘She was just a kid: nine when we met, ten when it went to trial. I didn’t see her after that, till today.’

Conway shot me a look that said I was the kid here. ‘You’d be surprised. She a liar?’

I thought back. ‘She didn’t lie to me. Not that I caught, anyway. She was a good kid, back then.’

Conway said, ‘She’s a liar.’

‘What’d she say?’

‘Dunno. I didn’t catch her out either. Maybe she didn’t lie to me. But girls that age, they’re liars. All of them.’

I thought about saying, Next time you’ve got a trick question, save it for a suspect. Said, instead, ‘I don’t give a damn who’s a liar, as long as she’s not lying to me.’

Conway shifted up a gear. The MG loved it. ‘Tell us,’ she said. ‘What did your little pal Holly say about Chris Harper?’

‘Not a lot. He was just a guy. She knew him from around.’

‘Right. You think she was telling the truth?’

‘I haven’t worked that out yet.’

‘You go ahead and let me know when you do. Here’s why we paid special attention to Holly and her mates. There’s four of them that hang out together, or did back then: Holly Mackey, Selena Wynne, Julia Harte and Rebecca O’Mara. They’re like that.’ Crossed fingers. ‘Another girl in their class, Joanne Heffernan, she said the vic had been going out with Selena Wynne.’

‘So you figure that’s what he was doing in St Kilda’s. Snuck in to meet her.’

‘Yeah. Here’s something we didn’t release, so try not to blab it in interview: he had a condom in his pocket. Fuck-all else, no wallet, no phone – those were back in his room – just a condom.’ Conway craned her neck, spun the wheel, whipped us round a VW snail and out of the way of a lorry just in time. The lorry wasn’t happy. ‘Fuck you, you want to start with me? . . . And there were flowers on the body – that wasn’t released either. Hyacinths – those blue curly ones, real strong sweet smell? Four stems of them. They came from a flowerbed on the school grounds, not far from the scene, so the killer could’ve put them there, but . . .’ Shrug. ‘Guy in his girlfriend’s school after midnight, with a condom and flowers? I’m gonna say he was on a promise.’