Labrador and boob job, according to the PE teacher. If Orla had missed them, she could have missed one more.

‘What about you? Have you ever put up cards on the board?’

Orla did a coy squirm. ‘Maybe.’

I grinned along with her. ‘I know they’re private. I’m not asking for the details. Just tell me: when was the last one?’

‘Like a month ago?’

‘So this isn’t yours.’

I had the photo in Orla’s hand, face up, before she realised it was coming.

Prayed it wasn’t hers.

I needed to show Conway what I could do. Five minutes and an easy answer would get me nothing, except maybe a lift back to Cold Cases. I needed a fight.

And, somewhere in a locked back corner, detectives think old ways. You take down a predator, whatever bleeds out of it flows into you. Spear a leopard, grow braver and faster. All that St Kilda’s gloss, that walk through old oak doors like you belong, effortless: I wanted that. I wanted to lick it off my banged-up fists along with my enemy’s blood.

This fool, smelling of body spray and cheap gossip: not what I’d had in mind. This would be like taking down some kid’s fat hamster.

Orla stared, while the photo sank in. Then squealed. High flat wail, like air squeezed out of a squeaky toy.

‘Orla,’ I said. Sharp, before she could work herself up. ‘Did you put that up on the Secret Place?’

‘No! OhmyGod, I swear to God, no! I don’t know anything about what happened to Chris. Swear to God.’

I believed her. The photo at arm’s length, like it could hurt her; the bug-eyed stare zipping from me to Conway to Houlihan, looking for help. Not our girl. Just the detective gods throwing me an easy one, to start me off.

I said, ‘Then one of your friends did. Who was it?’

‘I don’t know! I don’t know anything about this. I totally swear.’

‘Any of them ever mention any ideas about Chris?’

‘No way. I mean, we all think it was that groundskeeper guy – he used to smile at us all the time, he was totally creepy, and you guys arrested him for having drugs, right? But we don’t know anything. Or anyway I don’t. And if any of the others do, they never told me. Ask them.’

‘We will,’ I said. Nice and soothing. Smile. ‘Don’t worry. You’re not in trouble.’

Orla was calming down. Gawping at the photo, starting to like having it in her hand. I wanted to whip it off her. I let her hang on to it, have her fun.

Reminded myself: the ones you don’t like are a bonus. They can’t fool you as easy as the ones you do.

Twenty watts went on over Orla’s head. ‘Probably it wasn’t even any of us. Julia Harte and all them were in here right after us. Probably they did it.’

‘You figure they know what happened to Chris?’