I was grateful that Electric gave us an hour lunch break: it meant that I could gather my thoughts together and review what I’d learned about Kayla over the last couple of days. I bought some mint ice cream from the ice-cream shop on the square. I loved the ice-cream place. All its tables were outside on Temple Bar Square, so it was a great place to people-watch. They served their ice cream in blue tubs with colourful plastic spoons. I always got sprinkles. They made my mint ice cream look like a tiny rainbow had exploded into millions of pieces on top of it. When Hannah and I were younger, my dad would often bring us here on Saturdays. If we got cones, he’d always manage to talk the lady who was working there into giving him two flakes. Everybody loved my dad. Being back here, I was beginning to understand why Mum had wanted to move. There were reminders of Dad everywhere in this city, from the places we used to go, to the things he liked. Mostly I found it comforting, but I could see why Mum needed to start a new life.
I sat down outside and took out my notebook, forcing myself to stop thinking about the past and instead focus on everything I’d learned about Kayla and the people who knew her. I wrote down all the important things so far, like the last time each of the people had seen Kayla, what they thought had happened and what their relationships were to each other. I’d only talked to five of the eight possible suspects, and already I had tons to consider.
‘Ice cream for lunch! I like your style, Jacki King.’
I looked up, surprised to see Dillon standing there. He had rushed off as soon as lunch break came. I’d been shelving stuff in the archive and saw him practically run out of the office. I thought he was going to meet Maggie. There were still unconfirmed rumours that they were going out, but Hannah didn’t have very high hopes for them. Apparently Mark had told her that Dillon hardly ever stayed with the same girl for more than two weeks, that he hardly ever went out with anyone in fact. He didn’t seem to be a girlfriend type of guy.
He sat down across from me, putting a yellow bag he’d been holding on the ground beside him and picked up the ice-cream menu.
‘I was in Tower Records,’ he said. ‘The new Mighty Stef single is out today. There were signed copies for the first one hundred people.’
‘You ran to Tower Records to get the new Mighty Stef single?’
‘Is that crazy?’ he said.
‘Impressive,’ I said with a smile.
‘You like the Mighty Stef?’ he asked.
‘Love him.’
‘I thought you would,’ he said. ‘When you were in Ellie’s office the other day I heard one of the guys say he might be the special guest at the Unsigned gig, although it’s not confirmed. What did she want you for anyway?’ he added, pulling the record out of the bag.
‘Oh, she just wanted me to address invitations,’ I said. ‘Nothing important.’
Sometimes I surprised myself at how quickly I was able to lie now, how fast the lies came to me.
He held the record out to me and I examined it.
‘It looks deadly,’ I said. ‘I really like the artwork.’
I handed it back to him.
‘That one’s yours,’ he said.
‘What?’
‘I got you one too.’
‘Why?’
Dillon blushed.
‘I mean… thanks!’ I said. ‘This is really cool.’
‘No problem,’ he said.
I told myself he’d just bought it for me as a friend. I mean, I got Colin stuff all the time. But I also knew this wasn’t something I would share with Nick – he probably wouldn’t understand and things weren’t great between us at the moment. I’d talked to him last night on the phone; I’d asked him was he excited about the gig and he’d gone kind of quiet. I’d decided that once I got back to Avarna, I was going to tell him everything – why I was really in Dublin and exactly what had happened last summer. My secrets were definitely coming between us. I really hoped he’d understand.
Sensing that Dillon felt the tension of the moment as much as I did, I hastily moved the conversation on. ‘So, what’s your favourite Stef song?’ I asked. ‘Mine’s “Prayer for the Broken Hearted”.’
We chatted for ages again, sticking to safe subjects like music, and before we knew it, it was five to two. It didn’t help that Dillon had hilariously deliberated for ages about which ice-cream flavour to get.
We rushed back to St Stephen’s Green, weaving through all the people as fast as we could. The traffic lights were taking ages to change and Dillon shuffled nervously. ‘Come on,’ he said, then grabbed my hand and pulled me across the road.
I felt my heart beating a little bit faster than it should.