Last Seen Wearing by Colin Dexter

'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