Charlotte Brontë’s Villette balancing like a circumflex accent over the arm of her chair.
‘I’m having – purely routine, of course – to check the movements of all the er . . . persons . . .’
‘Suspects?’
‘No, no. Those who worked with Sylvia. You understand that this sort of thing has to be done.’
‘Of course. I’m surprised you haven’t done it before.’ Morse was a little taken aback. Indeed, why hadn’t he done it before? Jennifer continued. ‘Last Wednesday evening, I got home a bit later than usual – I went round Blackwells to spend a book token. It was my birthday last week. I got home about six, I should think. You know what the traffic’s like in the rush hour.’ Morse nodded. ‘Well, I had a bit to eat – the other girls were here – and went out about, let’s see, about half past six I should think. I got back about eight – perhaps a bit later.’
‘Can you tell me where you went?’
‘I went to the Summertown library.’
‘What time does the library close?’
‘Seven-thirty.’
‘You spent about an hour there.’
‘That seems to be a reasonable conclusion, Inspector.’
‘It seems a long time. I usually spend about two minutes.’
‘Perhaps you’re not very fussy what you read.’
That’s a point, thought Morse. Jennifer spoke with an easy, clear diction. A good education, he thought. But there was more than that. There was a disciplined independence about the girl, and he wondered how she got on with men. He thought it would be difficult to make much headway with this young lady – unless, of course, she wanted to. She could, he suspected, be very nice indeed.
‘Are you reading that?’
She laid a delicately manicured hand lightly upon Villette . ‘Yes. Have you read it?’
‘’Fraid not,’ confessed Morse.
‘You should do.’
‘I’ll try to remember,’ muttered Morse. Who was supposed to be conducting this interview? ‘Er, you stayed an hour?’
‘I’ve told you that.’
‘Did anyone see you there?’
‘They’d have a job not to, wouldn’t they?’
‘Yes, I suppose they would.’ Morse felt he was losing his way. ‘Did you get anything else out?’ He suddenly felt a bit better.
‘You’ll be interested to know that I got that as well.’ She pointed to a large volume, also lying open, on the carpet in front of the TV set. ‘Mary’s started to read it.’ Morse picked it up and looked at the title. Who was Jack the Ripper?
‘Mm.’
‘I’m sure you’ve read that.’
Morse’s morale began to sag again. ‘I don’t think I’ve read that particular account, no.’
Jennifer suddenly smiled. ‘I’m sorry, Inspector. I’m very much of a bookworm myself, and I have far more spare time than you, I’m sure.’
‘Coming back to Wednesday a minute, Miss Coleby. You say you were back about eight.’
‘Yes, about then. It could have been quarter past, even half past, I suppose.’
‘Was anyone in when you got back?’
‘Yes. Sue was in. But Mary had gone off to the pictures. Day of the Jackal I think it was; she didn’t get back until eleven.’
‘I see.’
‘Shall I ask Sue to come down?’
‘No. No need to bother.’ Morse realized he was probably wasting his time, but he stuck it out. ‘How long does it take to walk to the library?’
‘About ten minutes.’
‘But it took you almost an hour, perhaps, if you didn’t get back until eight-thirty?’
Again the pleasant smile, the regular white teeth, a hint of gentle mockery around the lips. ‘Inspector, I think we’d better ask Sue if she remembers the time, don’t you?’
‘Perhaps we should,’ said Morse.
When Jennifer left the room Morse was looking around with sombre, weary eyes, when suddenly a thought flashed through his mind. He was deadly quick as he picked up Villette , turned to the inside of the cover and deftly replaced it over the arm of the chair. Sue came in, and quickly confirmed that as far as she could remember Jennifer had been
‘I’m having – purely routine, of course – to check the movements of all the er . . . persons . . .’
‘Suspects?’
‘No, no. Those who worked with Sylvia. You understand that this sort of thing has to be done.’
‘Of course. I’m surprised you haven’t done it before.’ Morse was a little taken aback. Indeed, why hadn’t he done it before? Jennifer continued. ‘Last Wednesday evening, I got home a bit later than usual – I went round Blackwells to spend a book token. It was my birthday last week. I got home about six, I should think. You know what the traffic’s like in the rush hour.’ Morse nodded. ‘Well, I had a bit to eat – the other girls were here – and went out about, let’s see, about half past six I should think. I got back about eight – perhaps a bit later.’
‘Can you tell me where you went?’
‘I went to the Summertown library.’
‘What time does the library close?’
‘Seven-thirty.’
‘You spent about an hour there.’
‘That seems to be a reasonable conclusion, Inspector.’
‘It seems a long time. I usually spend about two minutes.’
‘Perhaps you’re not very fussy what you read.’
That’s a point, thought Morse. Jennifer spoke with an easy, clear diction. A good education, he thought. But there was more than that. There was a disciplined independence about the girl, and he wondered how she got on with men. He thought it would be difficult to make much headway with this young lady – unless, of course, she wanted to. She could, he suspected, be very nice indeed.
‘Are you reading that?’
She laid a delicately manicured hand lightly upon Villette . ‘Yes. Have you read it?’
‘’Fraid not,’ confessed Morse.
‘You should do.’
‘I’ll try to remember,’ muttered Morse. Who was supposed to be conducting this interview? ‘Er, you stayed an hour?’
‘I’ve told you that.’
‘Did anyone see you there?’
‘They’d have a job not to, wouldn’t they?’
‘Yes, I suppose they would.’ Morse felt he was losing his way. ‘Did you get anything else out?’ He suddenly felt a bit better.
‘You’ll be interested to know that I got that as well.’ She pointed to a large volume, also lying open, on the carpet in front of the TV set. ‘Mary’s started to read it.’ Morse picked it up and looked at the title. Who was Jack the Ripper?
‘Mm.’
‘I’m sure you’ve read that.’
Morse’s morale began to sag again. ‘I don’t think I’ve read that particular account, no.’
Jennifer suddenly smiled. ‘I’m sorry, Inspector. I’m very much of a bookworm myself, and I have far more spare time than you, I’m sure.’
‘Coming back to Wednesday a minute, Miss Coleby. You say you were back about eight.’
‘Yes, about then. It could have been quarter past, even half past, I suppose.’
‘Was anyone in when you got back?’
‘Yes. Sue was in. But Mary had gone off to the pictures. Day of the Jackal I think it was; she didn’t get back until eleven.’
‘I see.’
‘Shall I ask Sue to come down?’
‘No. No need to bother.’ Morse realized he was probably wasting his time, but he stuck it out. ‘How long does it take to walk to the library?’
‘About ten minutes.’
‘But it took you almost an hour, perhaps, if you didn’t get back until eight-thirty?’
Again the pleasant smile, the regular white teeth, a hint of gentle mockery around the lips. ‘Inspector, I think we’d better ask Sue if she remembers the time, don’t you?’
‘Perhaps we should,’ said Morse.
When Jennifer left the room Morse was looking around with sombre, weary eyes, when suddenly a thought flashed through his mind. He was deadly quick as he picked up Villette , turned to the inside of the cover and deftly replaced it over the arm of the chair. Sue came in, and quickly confirmed that as far as she could remember Jennifer had been
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