Jennifer, however, did not appear quite so abashed as he had expected. 'You don't believe what I told you?'
'No.'
'Am I allowed to ask why not?' Morse was more than a little surprised. It was clear to him that the girl had recovered whatever nerve she may have lost. He clearly and patiently told her that she could not possibly have taken out her library books on Wednesday evening, and that this could be proved without any reasonable doubt. 'I see.' Morse waited for her to speak again. If he had been mildly surprised at her previous question, he was flabbergasted by her next. "What were you doing at the time of the murder last Wednesday evening, Inspector?"
What was he doing? He wasn't quite sure, but any such admission would hardly advance his present cause. He lied. 'I was listening to some Wagner.'
'Which Wagner.'
'Das Rheingold.'
'Is there anyone who could back up your story? Did anyone see you?'
Morse surrendered. 'No.' In spite of himself, he had to admire the girl. 'No,' he repeated, 'I live on my own. I seldom have the pleasure of visitors — of either sex.'
'How very sad."
Morse nodded. 'Yes. But you see, Miss Coleby, I am not as yet suspected of dressing up in women's clothes and standing at the top of the Woodstock Road hitching a lift with Sylvia Kaye.'
'And I am?'
'And you are.'
'But presumably I'm not suspected of raping and murdering Sylvia?'
'I hope you will allow me a modicum of intelligence.'
'You don't understand.'
'What's that supposed to mean?'
'Hasn't it occurred to you that Sylvia probably enjoyed being raped?' There was bitterness in her tone, and her cheeks were flushed.
'That seems to assume that she was raped before she died, doesn't it?' said Morse quietly.
'I'm sorry — that was a horrid thing to say.'
Morse followed up his advantage. 'My job is to discover what happened from the moment Sylvia and her friend—and I believe that was you—got into a red car on the other side of the Woodstock roundabout. For some reason this other girl has not come forward, and I don't think the reason's very hard to find. She knew the driver of the car, and she's protecting him. She's probably frightened stiff. But so was Sylvia Kaye frightened stiff, Miss Coleby. More than that. She was so savagely struck on the back of the head that her skull was broken in several places and lumps of bone were found in her brain. Do you like the sound of that? It's an ugly, horrible sight is murder and the trouble with murder is that it usually tends to wipe out the only good witness of the crime — the victim. That means we've got to rely on other witnesses, normal ordinary people most of them, who accidentally get caught up at some point in the wretched business. They get scared; OK. They'd rather not get mixed up in it; OK. They think it's none of their business, OK — but we've got to rely on some of them having enough guts and decency to come forward and tell us what they know. And that's why you're here, Miss Coleby. I've got to know the truth.'
He took the statement that Jennifer had made and tore it into pieces. But he could not read her mind. As he had been speaking she had been gazing through the window of the little office into the outside yard, where the day before she had stood with her office colleagues.
'Well?'
'I'm sorry, Inspector. I must have caused you a lot of trouble. It was on Thursday that I went to the library.'
'And on Wednesday?'
'I did go out. And I did go on the road to Woodstock — but I didn't get as far as Woodstock. I stopped at The Golden Rose at Begbroke — that's what, about two miles this side of Woodstock. I went into the lounge and bought a drink — a lager and lime. I drank it out in the garden and then went home.'
Morse looked at her impatiently. 'In the dark, I suppose.'
'Yes. About half past seven.'
'Well — go on.'
'What do you mean—"go on"? That was all.'
'Do you want me to. .' began Morse, his voice fuming. 'Fetch Lewis!' he barked. Policewoman Fuller read the gale warning and hurried out.
Jennifer appeared untroubled, and Morse's anger subsided.
It was Jennifer who broke the silence. 'You mustn't be too angry with me, Inspector.' Her voice had become little more than a whisper. Her hand went to her forehead and for a while she closed her eyes. Morse looked at her closely for the first time. He had not noticed before how attractive she could be. She wore a light-blue summer coat over a black jumper, with gloves in matching black. Her cheek bones were high and there was animation in her face, her mouth slightly open revealing the clean lines of her white teeth. Morse wondered if he could ever fall for her, and decided, as usual, that he could.
'I've been so flustered, and so frightened.'
He had to lean forward slightly to catch her words. He noticed that Lewis had come in and motioned him silently to a chair.
'Everything will be all right, you see.' Morse looked at Lewis and nodded as the sergeant prepared to take down the second draft of the evidence of Miss Jennifer Coleby.
'Why were you frightened?' asked Morse gently.
'Well, it's all been so strange — I don't seem to be able to wake up properly since. . I don't seem to know what's real and what's not. So many funny things seem to be happening.' She was still sitting with her head in her hand, looking blankly at the top of the table. Morse glanced at Lewis. Things were almost ready.
'What do you mean—"funny things"?'
'Just everything really. I'm beginning to wonder if I know what I am doing. What am I doing here? I thought I'd told you the truth about Wednesday — and now I realize I didn't. And there was another funny thing.' Morse watched her keenly. 'I had a letter on Saturday morning telling me I'd not been chosen for a job—and I don't even remember applying for it. Do you think I'm going mad?'
So that was going to be her story! Morse experienced the agony of a bridge player whose ace has just been covered by the deuce of trumps. The two policemen looked at each other, and both were conscious that Jennifer's eyes were on them.
'Well, now.' Morse hid his disappointment and disbelief as well as he was able. "Let's just get back to Wednesday night, shall we? Can you repeat what you just told me? I want Sergeant Lewis to get it down.' His voice sounded exasperated.
Jennifer repeated her brief statement and Lewis, like the Inspector before him, looked temporarily bewildered.
'You mean,' said Morse, 'that Miss Kaye went on to Woodstock, but that you only went as far as Begbroke?'
'Yes, that's exactly what I mean.'
'You asked this man to drop you at Begbroke?'
'What man are you talking about?'
'The man who gave you a lift.'
'But I didn't get a lift to Begbroke.'
'You what?' shrieked Morse.