8
"I don't understand," I said.
"It's a simple question," Sgt. Bullock said, shifting his broad and solid buttocks on the small pedestal chair in front of the desk. "Do you know a girl named Lois Worthington?"
"I don't know. I know a girl named Lois, a waitress at a little restaurant near the university. But—"
"That's the one." The sergeant glanced meaningfully at his partner, who abruptly tore his gaze away from Laurie. She sat on the couch under the window, her legs drawn up under her, her face extraordinarily cool and composed under the flaming hair.
"I don't really know her," I said. "I mean, I've just met her in the Dugout."
"You don't know her very well, huh?"
"No, I—" I remembered the attempts I had made to reach her that day. The hard shrewd eyes of the policeman never left my face and I felt a chill of foreboding. "Look, Sergeant, what's this all about?"
"I understand you were trying pretty hard to get hold of the girl today. You made quite a scene about it." His eyes flicked toward Laurie, and there was a faint sneer on his flat cold face. "She another one of your students?"
"No. I was—in an accident last night. It happened right in front of the Dugout. I know Lois was on duty and I thought she might have been a witness. I wanted to ask her what she saw."
"You report this accident?"
I flushed. "No."
"Why not?"
"I—I didn't think I was hurt at the time. But today I had a painful rib and I thought I'd better make sure—"
"You thought maybe you might be able to collect a little something, eh Professor?"
I began to get angry. "Maybe I did—but that isn't what you came here to ask me about, Sergeant. If you've got something on your mind let's have it. Otherwise—"
"Don't get smart, Professor!" The sergeant rose abruptly. One jerky stride brought him close to me. The heavy face looked mean and dangerous as he thrust it in front of mine. "I'll ask the questions the way I want to ask them. And you'll listen and you'll answer, just like one of your students in the classroom, nice and polite!"
I held my tongue but I could feel the skin tighten across my cheek-bones.
"Now!" he snarled. "You were in the Dugout asking for the girl between six and seven tonight. That right?"
"I left about seven-thirty."
"Yeah. And you said you'd be back later. You acted like you had a date with her."
"That's not true!"
"But you were going back."
I glanced at Laurie. There was a bright spark in her eyes as she waited for me to answer.
"Yes. I was going back."
"But instead you went to see her, didn't you, Professor?"
I showed my surprise. "No. I came straight here."
"What time did you get here?"
"Just before eight. I had an appointment—with Miss Hendricks."
"Yeah?" He whirled toward Laurie. "And what time did you get here?"
"It was five minutes past eight, Sergeant," she lied calmly. "I know because I was a few minutes late and I checked my watch."
The sergeant glared at her suspiciously, then swung back to me. "You've been here since then? The two of you?"
"That's right," I said, wondering at the smoothness of Laurie's lie. "Now maybe you'll tell me what this has to do with—Miss Worthington."
His small hard eyes snapped with something like pleasure. "She was murdered, professor. That's all."
I felt the blood drain from my face. "Murdered?"
"Yeah. We figure between eight and eight-thirty, closer to eight. That's nice timing for you, professor. Seems like the girl had a helluva lot of boyfriends—but you were number one on our list!"
I stared at the hostile face and thought about what would have happened if Laurie hadn't lied, if I'd had only my own word that I was alone in the trailer between eight and nine. And then I thought about what would happen if they learned that she had lied.
But when my mind turned to Lois and why I had wanted to see her, I felt a fear that had nothing to do with the policeman's threatening attitude, a quivering fear that started way down inside me, a queasy weakness that made me feel sick.
"How—how was she killed?"
"Nice and quick, Professor. Her neck was broken."
I heard Laurie gasp and I looked at her quickly. Her face was pale now, heightening the bright red slash of her lips. Her eyes were fixed on me, wide and frightened.
The sergeant started toward the door. His partner went down the steps ahead of him. The burly man turned in the doorway.
"This lets you out for now, professor. But we'll check out your story. And maybe we'll have another little talk later on. Be around where I can find you, huh?"
"Any time, Sergeant," I said, feeling that my voice sounded hollow and unconvincing. "If there's any way I can help—"
"Yeah," he said, the flat lips stretching in what might have passed for a smile. "Sure."
He took another long, steady look at Laurie and at me before he turned his broad back on us and went out. I waited until the two men had gone down the walk to the street before I closed the door.
Laurie hadn't moved. There was an expression in her eyes and around her mouth that I didn't immediately fathom, a curious tension. But the brutal announcement about Lois had been shocking. Small wonder that Laurie would be upset.
"Thanks, Laurie," I said. "You got me out of a spot."
"Happy to oblige," she said coldly.
I regarded her in blank surprise. "What's the matter?"
She swung off the couch and moved toward me, her walk unconsciously sensuous, "I really had you figured wrong, didn't I?" she said, her voice strangely sharp.
"Laurie, you don't think I had anything to do with—"
"No. No, I don't think you killed her. But you fooled me once, Professor, so I could be wrong again. I had you typed as the lonely professor. I bet you really got a hoot out of that behind that smug face of yours, didn't you?"
"You're wrong, Laurie."
"I'll say! What were you going to do, anyway? Have a little roll on the couch with the eager student, send her on her way, and then trot along to meet your little waitress? You must be quite a guy, Professor. I should have known from the way you kissed me, shouldn't I? You didn't learn that in a book."
She was clearly hurt, a stung pride firing the bitterness of her words, and I knew she wasn't going to listen to me.
"Laurie, I had to talk to her, believe me—"
"Sure you did! About the accident, wasn't that it? You needed a witness."
"I had to ask her a question—"
"Does she always say yes? You don't have to tell me the question, Professor. I can guess. I've seen the girl!"
"I can't explain but you've got to understand that there was nothing between me and Lois."
"Tell that to the cops, Mr. Cameron. But next time don't expect me to provide your alibi!"
She stalked past me, jerked open the door, and bolted down the steps. I started after her.
"Laurie!"
But she was gone down the walk, the pattern of red-and-white diamonds twitching with the angry vehemence of her stride. And all at once it seemed too vehement to me, her anger and refusal to listen too unreasonable, a convenient way to get away quickly, just as she had been too smooth and ready to lie for me.
She had not only provided my alibi. She had created one for herself.
I heard the rumble of a voice. Looking up I saw the chunky figure of Sgt. Bullock coming down the steps of the trailer next door. Behind him light outlined the blonde hair and slim figure of the shy girl who was my neighbor. The momentary sense of safety shattered around me like a glass shell breaking. Bullock had been checking on the alibi. It had been that easy!
The sergeant was lumbering toward me. His partner stood on the walk, not moving. I waited, unable to stir. I hadn't done it, I had had nothing to do with Lois' death, but they wouldn't believe me now after the lie. I should have told them the truth.
"What's the matter, Professor? Your girl friend decide to go home early?"
"She was—upset," I said tightly.
He looked almost genial. He's enjoying this, I thought. He's going to get a big kick out of letting me have it right between the eyes.
"We checked out your alibi, Cameron," the sergeant said. "Your neighbor backs you up on the time you got here and she saw the girl arrive just after eight, so I guess we had it wrong. No hard feelings?"
"No," I said woodenly, stunned. "No, of course not."
"We'll find out who did it," the sergeant said matter-of-factly. "But now we're going to have to dig."
They left. I watched them until they had climbed into the yellow-and-black helicopter parked on the strip across the street and the ship rose slowly with a deep chugging rhythm of engine and whirring blade into the night sky. At last I turned to stare at the trailer next to mine. The door was closed. The blinds were tightly drawn. The girl had shut herself inside.
Everyone was giving me an alibi, I thought. Nobody wanted me in jail. I wondered why. The bewildering sequence of events, the jolting pile-up of shocks, had left me confused, unable to think clearly. But after a while, still standing in the open doorway looking at the blind walls of the trailer just a few yards away, I thought of a reason why.
Jails were safe.