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handle an entire sheriff’s department.”
    She looked at him stubbornly. “She believes in me.”
    â€œI don’t care if she thinks you’re Queen of the May, a mother’s faith isn’t enough to go to court on.”
    â€œI won’t be going to court.”
    â€œNo?”
    â€œI’m not guilty. I didn’t kill him.” She raised her voice. “Hear that, Miss Big Ears? I didn’t kill Margolis.”
    Miss Jennings began to hum again: And you’ll take the low road .
    â€œWell, that’s something anyway,” Meecham said. “A de­nial. Can you back it up?”
    â€œThat’s all I’m saying right now.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œBecause it is .”
    â€œBecause you don’t remember,” Meecham said. “Accord­ing to the lab report your blood alcohol was 2.23.”
    â€œWhat does that mean?”
    â€œYou were loaded.”
    Virginia’s cheeks turned slightly pink. “Does my mother know that?”
    â€œShe must, by this time.”
    â€œShe’ll be furious. She’s a teetotaler.” She said it very seriously, as if the crime of which she was accused was not murder but drinking.
    â€œSo you won’t give Cordwink a statement.”
    â€œI can’t. Don’t you understand? I can’t tell him I don’t remember anything, he’ll throw the book at me.”
    â€œHe may anyway.”
    She bit her lower lip. “I admit I was a little high Satur­day night.”
    â€œYou were quite stupendously drunk, Mrs. Barkeley. You weren’t a little high.”
    â€œWell, stop repeating it!” she cried. “Why did you come here anyway? I don’t need you to tell me what to do.”
    â€œDon’t you?”
    There was a pause. Miss Jennings was wide-eyed with curiosity, but she hummed valiantly on, keeping time with her left foot.
    â€œYou weren’t drunk all Saturday night. What happened earlier, before Margolis was killed?”
    â€œWe danced and had something to eat.”
    â€œYou also had a fight around eleven o’clock.”
    â€œClaude and I were the best of friends,” she said stiffly.
    â€œIt’s on the record, Mrs. Barkeley. A waitress at the Top Hat remembers you both and has already identified your pictures. In the middle of the argument you got up and walked out and a few minutes later Margolis followed you. Where did you go? Or don’t you want me to tell you?”
    â€œYou like talking so much, tell me.” The words were arrogant, but they weren’t spoken arrogantly. Her voice trembled, and Meecham wondered if she was frightened at the thought of meeting her mother. She had shown no pre­vious signs of fear.
    He said, “You went to a beer-and-pretzel place a couple of doors down the street. It was jammed with the Satur­day-night college crowd. Margolis caught up with you there. You were at the bar talking to a man when Margolis arrived. You got up and left with Margolis, and the other man got up and left too, according to one of the bartend­ers. But he doesn’t know whether the man left with you, or whether he was just going home because it was nearly closing time. Which was it?”
    â€œStop.” Virginia pounded the edge of the cot with her fist. “Do we have to go into it like this?”
    â€œSomebody has to. We can’t all sit around nursing our amnesia.”
    â€œYou’re pretty insolent, for hired help.”
    â€œAnd you’re pretty uncooperative for a girl who might spend her next twenty years sorting out dirty clothes in a prison laundry.”
    â€œThat was an ugly remark.” The girl’s face was paper-white, and her skin seemed to be stretched tight and trans­parent across her cheekbones. “I won’t forget it.”
    â€œI hope not,” Meecham said. “There’s one very inter­esting point about the finding of Margolis’ body. His