Last Bus To Woodstock

that the letter we found addressed to Jennifer Coleby was written to her by Bernard Crowther. If you want chapter and verse, it was written on the afternoon of Friday, 1 October in the rooms of Mr. Peter Newlove in Lonsdale College on the same Mr. Peter Newlove's typewriter. That, Lewis, is a fact.'

Again Lewis made an effort to protest, and again Morse waved the protest aside. 'Hear me out, Lewis. Jennifer Coleby lied from the word go. In fact of all the people in this case, it's Jennifer Coleby who had the monopoly of the lies. Lies, lies and more lies. But why should she lie? Why should anyone be so anxious to mislead us to the extent that she did? I felt sure, fairly early on, that the reason was pretty simple really. The young lady who sat in the back of Bernard's car was his mistress, and everything we learned from Margaret confirmed the truth of his own admission that he did in fact have a mistress. Now I needn't go over all the lies we got from Jennifer; but there was some truth amid the tangled web of all the lies. And the one thing she told us that seemed the biggest whopper of the lot was just about the one thing that was true. She said she'd got a car.'

Lewis could restrain himself no longer. 'But she had a puncture, sir. We know all about that.'

'Oh, I don't doubt she had a puncture. We know she did. She rang up the Battery and Tire people. But if they couldn't mend it, someone else could, eh? If you remember, Jennifer didn't ask the tire man to call some other time; and she didn't have it done at Barkers. But somebody mended her puncture, Lewis. Perhaps she did it herself? She's not a fool, is she? Perhaps she asked the man next door? I don't know. But you can repair & puncture in five minutes without much trouble, and Jennifer Coleby is a practical girl and she had to have a car that night.'

'I don't follow that at all,' said the mystified Lewis.

'You will, have no fear.' Morse looked at his watch. 'I want you to go and pick her up, Lewis.'

'You mean Miss Coleby?'

'Who the hell else?'

Morse followed Lewis out, knocked at the office of Chief Superintendent Strange and went in.

Some half an hour later the door was opened, and Strange stood on the threshold with Morse. Both men looked stern-faced, and Strange nodded his head gravely as the Chief Inspector said a few final words.

'You look tired, you know, Morse. I think you ought to put in for a fortnight's furlough now this is over.'

'Well, not quite over, sir.'

Morse walked slowly back to his office.

When Jennifer Coleby arrived Morse asked her to sit down and then walked over to Lewis. 'I want this to be private, Lewis. You understand, I know.'

Lewis didn't understand and he felt hurt. But he left them together, and walked along to the canteen.

'Look Inspector. I really thought that after your sergeant saw me yesterday that you'd finished. .'

Morse interrupted her sharply. 'I've asked you here and I'll do the talking. You just sit back and shut up for a few minutes.' There was thinly veiled menace in his voice, and Jennifer Coleby, looking very much on her guard, did as Morse had bidden her.

'Let me tell you what I suspected long ago in this case, Miss Coleby. You can interrupt me if I go wrong, but I want no more of your miserable lies.' She glanced viciously into his hard eyes, but said nothing. 'Let me tell you what I think. I think that two girls were picked up by a man one night and that one of the girls was the man's mistress. I think that this mistress usually travelled by car to see her lover, but on that particular night she couldn't get there by car, and that was why she either had to catch a bus or hitch-hike. Unfortunately, and by sheer chance, she was picked up by the very man she was going to see. Unfortunately, too, there were two girls, and he had to pick them both up, and these two girls knew each other. Now the whole thing suddenly seemed too dangerous — this is what I think, Miss Coleby, you understand — and somehow they decided to forget their date and wait until the next opportunity arose. I think that this girl, the mistress, asked to be dropped off somewhere on the way. She probably made some perfectly natural excuse — she was a good liar — and she asked him to drop her off. But she knew where the other girl was going — no doubt the other girl had told her — and she felt uncontrollably jealous that night. She'd perhaps sensed something as they'd all driven along together. You see, the girl who was sitting in the front was very attractive to men. And perhaps? Who knows? The man, the man she knew so well, had been unfaithful to his wife. He had been unfaithful with her! Why not with some other girl? So I think this is what happened. She got out of the car, but she didn't return home. No. She waited for a bus and one came almost immediately. How she must have cursed her luck. If only she'd not hitched a lift! Anyway, she caught the bus and found her way to the place where she knew she might find them. And she did find them. It was dark there and she couldn't see very much, but she saw enough. And she felt a murderous jealousy welling up inside her, not so much against her lover, but against that, cheap slut of a girl, a girl she'd got to know but never liked, a girl she now hated with unspeakable fury. I think perhaps they may have spoken to each other when the man had gone— but I can only guess, and I may be wrong. I think that the girl who had just got out of the car could sense the deadly fury in the other girl's face, and I think she tried to run away. But as she did a vicious blow crashed across her skull and she lay dead in a heap upon a cobbled yard. I think the dead girl was dragged by the arms into the darkest corner of the yard and I think the girl who murdered her walked out into the night and caught a bus that took her home.'

Morse stopped, and there was utter silence in the room. 'Do you think that's how it happened, Miss Coleby?'

She nodded her head.

'We both know who murdered Sylvia, don't we?' Morse spoked so very softly that she could only just catch his words. Again she: nodded.

Morse rang Lewis and told him to come in. Take a few notes, Sergeant. Now, Miss Coleby. A few more questions, please. Who mended your puncture for you?'

'The man across the road. Mr. Thorogood.'

'How long did it take him?'

'Five, ten minutes. Not long. I helped him.'

'How long have you been the mistress of your employer, Mr. Palmer?' Lewis lifted his eyes in amazement.