The same story as Rebecca’s: the art project, the key, the forgotten picture and the toilet breaks and the chalk, the too busy to look at the board. No mismatches. It was true, or they were good.

I brought out the photo. Did the fingertip flip. ‘Have you put up any cards in the Secret Place?’

Julia snorted. ‘Jesus, no. Not my thing.’

‘No?’

Her eye on the photo. ‘Truly, madly, deeply no.’

‘So you didn’t put up this one.’

‘Um, since I didn’t put up any of them, I’m going to go with no?’

I held out the photo. Julia took it. Blank-faced, all set up to give away nothing.

She turned the photo towards her and went still. The whole room went still.

Then she shrugged. Handed the photo back to me, almost tossed it.

‘You’ve met Joanne Heffernan, right? If you find anything she won’t do for attention, I’d love to hear it. It probably involves YouTube and a German shepherd.’ Squeak from Houlihan. Julia’s eyes went to her and flicked away again, insta-bored.

‘Julia,’ I said. ‘Messing aside, just for a sec. If this was you, we need to know.’

‘I actually do know serious when I see it. That was totally, one hundred per cent not me.’

Julia wasn’t out. Almost out; not quite. ‘You figure Joanne’s behind it?’

Another shrug. ‘The only people you had waiting outside the office were us and Joanne’s little poodles – plus you’re asking about yesterday evening, so it has to be someone who was in the school then. It wasn’t us, so that leaves them. And the other three don’t scratch their arses unless Joanne says they can. ’Scuse my language.’

I said, ‘How come you’re so sure none of your mates put this up?’

‘Because. I know them.’

An echo of that note that had rung through Rebecca’s voice. That signal-flash again, so bright it almost hurt my eyes. Something different. Something rare.

I shook my head. ‘You don’t know them inside out. Trust me. Doesn’t happen.’

Julia looked back at me. One eyebrow raised: Is there a question here?

I could feel Conway, hot. Holding back.

I said, ‘Tell us. You have to have thought about who killed Chris. What’s your guess?’

‘Colm’s guys. His friends. They’re the type who’d think it was totally hilarious to climb in here to play some joke – steal something, paint “SLUTS” on a wall, whatever. And they’re the type who’d think it was a wonderful idea to start messing about in the dark with sticks and rocks and anything else dangerous they could find. Someone got a little overexcited, and . . .’

Julia spread her hands. Same gesture as Rebecca. Same story as Rebecca, almost word for word. They’d talked it over.