‘What makes you think she was going out with Chris?’

Slyer. More careful. ‘We just do.’

‘Yeah? Did you see them kissing? Holding hands?’

‘Um, no? They wouldn’t exactly have been that obvious about it.’

‘Why not?’

Flash of something: fear. Orla had slipped up, or thought she had. ‘I don’t know. I just mean, if they’d been OK with everyone seeing they were going out, they wouldn’t have kept it a secret. I mean, that’s all I mean.’

‘But if they kept it so secret that they never actually acted like they were together, how come you think they were together to begin with?’

That blown-fuse gawp again. ‘What?’

Jesus. Head-desk territory. I rewound. Nice and slow: ‘Why do you think Chris and Selena were going out together?’

Empty stare. Shrug. Orla wasn’t taking any more risks.

‘Why would they keep it a secret if they were?’

Empty stare. Shrug.

‘What about you?’ Conway asked. ‘You got a boyfriend?’

Orla sucked in her bottom lip, let out a breathy titter through it.

‘Do you?’

Squirm. ‘Sort of. It’s, ohmyGod, complicated?’

‘Who?’

Titter.

‘I asked you a question.’

‘Just this guy from Colm’s. He’s called Graham, Graham Quinn. But we’re not exactly going out out – I mean, ohmyGod, don’t go to him and say he’s my boyfriend! Like, he sort of is, but—’

‘I get it,’ Conway said, final enough to get through even to Orla, who shut up. ‘Thanks.’

I said, ‘If you could pick just one thing to tell me about Chris Harper. What would it be?’

The stare. I was less and less in the humour for the stare. ‘Like what?’

‘Like anything. Whatever you think is most important.’

‘Um, he was gorgeous?’

Giggle.

I took the photo away from her. ‘Thanks,’ I said. ‘That helps.’

I left a second. Orla said nothing. Conway said nothing. She was sitting back on the table, writing or doodling, I couldn’t tell which out of the corner of my eye. I wasn’t going to look at her, like I was looking for a hand.

Houlihan cleared her throat, a compromise between asking and keeping schtum. I’d forgotten her.

Conway shut her notebook.

I said, ‘Thanks, Orla. We might need to talk to you again. Meanwhile, if you think of anything that might help us, anything at all, here’s my card. Ring me any time. Yeah?’

Orla gave the card a look like I’d asked her to jump into my white van. Conway said, ‘Thanks. We’ll talk soon.’ To Houlihan, who jumped: ‘Gemma Harding next.’

I gave Orla more smiles. Got the two of them out of the door.

Conway said, ‘Like, totes OMG?’

I said, ‘Like, OMG, WTF?’

We almost looked at each other. Almost laughed.

Conway said, ‘Not our girl.’

‘Nah.’

I waited. Didn’t ask, wouldn’t give her the satisfaction, but I needed to know.

She said, ‘That went all right.’

I almost caught a huge breath, crushed it back in time. Stuck the photo away in my pocket, ready for the next go-round. ‘Anything you figure I should know about Gemma?’