Last Seen Wearing

'What's your name, lad?'

'William Shakespeare. What's yours?' He looked at Morse with considerable surprise. Who the hell did he think he was? It was over two years ago since anyone had spoken to him in that tone of voice. At school, in Kidlington.

'Can we go and talk somewhere?'

'What is this?'

'John Maguire, if I'm not mistaken? I want to talk to you about Miss Valerie Taylor — I think you may have heard of her. Now we can do it quietly and sensibly, or you can come along with me and the sergeant here to the nearest police station. Up to you.'

Maguire was obviously worried. 'Look. Not here, please. I've got half an hour off at four o'clock. I'll meet you then. I'll be in there.' He pointed anxiously to a sleazy-looking snack bar across the road next to the Angel.

Morse pondered what to do.

'Please,' urged Maguire. I'll be there. Honest, I will.'

It was a difficult decision, but Morse finally agreed. He thought it would be foolish to antagonize Maguire before he'd even started on him.

Morse gave quick instructions to Lewis as they walked away. He was to take a taxi back to Southampton Terrace and wait until Morse returned. If Maguire did decide to scuttle (it seemed unlikely, though) he would almost certainly go back there for some of his things.

At the end of the street Lewis found a cab almost immediately, and Morse guiltily strolled back to the Penthouse.

'You'd better give me another ticket,' demanded Morse brusquely. He walked once more down the murkily-lit passage, gave his ticket to a surprised and silent dwarf, and without further trouble re-entered the auditorium. He recognized The Voluptuous Vera with-out difficulty and decided that it would be no more than a minimal hardship thus to while away the next hour and a half. He just hoped the masked young lady was still on the bill. .

At 4.00 p.m. they sat opposite each other in the snack bar.

'You knew Valerie Taylor then?'

'I was at school with her.'

'Her boyfriend, weren't you?'

'One of 'em.'

'Like that, was it?' Maguire was non-committal. 'Why did Inspector Ainley come to see you?'

'You know why.'

'Did you know he was killed in a road accident the day he saw you?'

'No, I didn't.'

'I asked you why he came to see you.'

'Same reason as you, I suppose.'

'He asked you about Valerie?'

Maguire nodded, and Morse had the feeling that the boy was suddenly feeling more relaxed. Had Morse missed the turning?

'What did you tell him?'

'What could I tell him? Nothing more to tell, is there? They got me to write out a statement when I was at school, and I told them the truth. Couldn't do much more than that, could I?'

'You told the truth?'

' 'Course, I did. I couldn't have had anything to do with it. I was in school all day, remember?'

Morse did remember, although he cursed himself for not bringing the boy's statement with him. Maguire had stayed at school for dinner and had been playing cricket the whole afternoon. At the time he must have seemed a peripheral figure in the investigation. Still was, perhaps. But why, then, why had Ainley come to London just to see him again — after all that time? There must have been something, something big. Morse finished the last dregs of his cold coffee and felt a bit lost. His devious manoeuvrings of the day began to look unnecessarily theatrical. Why couldn't he be a straight policeman for once in his life? Still, he had a couple of trump cards, and one never knew. He prepared to play the first.

'I'll give you one more chance, Maguire, but this time I want the truth — all of it.'

'I've told you. .'

'Let's get one thing straight,' said Morse. I'm interested in Valerie Taylor — that's all. I'm not worried about any of those other things. .' He left the words in the air, and a flash of alarm glinted in the boy's eyes.

'What other things? I don't know what you're talking about.'

'We've been to your flat today, lad.'

'So?'

'Mrs. Gibbs doesn't seem too happy, does she, about one or two things. .?'

'Old cow.'

'She didn't have to tell us anything, you know.'

'What am I supposed to have done? Come on — let's have it.'

'How long have you been on drugs, lad?'

It hit him solidly between the eyes, and his effort at recovery was short of convincing. 'What drugs?'

'I just told you, lad. We've been to your flat today.'

'And I suppose you found some pot. So what? Just about everybody smokes pot here.'

'I'm not talking about everybody.' Morse leaned forward and let him have it. 'I'm talking about you, lad. Smoking pot's illegal, you know that, and I could frogmarch you out of here and ship you to the nearest police station — remember that! But I've just told you, lad, I'm quite prepared to let it ride. Christ, why do you have to make it so hard for yourself? You can go back to your bloody flat and pump yourself with heroin for all I care. I'm just not bothered, lad — not if you cooperate with me. Can't you get that into your thick skull?'

Morse let it sink in a minute before continuing. 'I want to know just one thing — what you told Inspector Ainley, that's all. And if I can't get it out of you here, I'll take you in and I'll get it out of you somewhere else. Please yourself, lad.'

Morse picked up his overcoat from the seat beside him and draped it across his knees. Maguire stared dejectedly at the table-top and played nervously with a bottle of tomato ketchup. There was indecision in his eyes, and Morse timed what he hoped was his second trump card perfectly.

'How long had you known that Valerie was pregnant?' he asked quietly.

Bull's-eye. Morse replaced his coat on the seat beside him, and Maguire spoke more freely. 'About three weeks before.'

'Did she tell anyone else?'

Maguire shrugged his shoulders. 'She was a real sexy kid — everyone was after her.'

'How often did you go to bed with her?'

'Ten — dozen times, I suppose.'

'The truth, please, lad.'

'Well, three or four times, maybe. I don't know.'

'Where was this?'

'My place.'

'Your parents know?'

'No. They were out working.'

'And she said you were the father?'

'No. She wasn't like that. Said I could have been, of course.'

'Did you feel jealous?' Morse had a suspicion that he did, but Maguire made no answer. 'Was she very upset?'