The Interview

Inspector Radley waited patiently as Alice Parker took a deep breath. Radley was a patient man. He let his pencil rest on the table, and watched as the girl closed her eyes, breathed, and opened her eyes again.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized. “It was –really – well, terrifying.”

The room was still. Alice was worried to breathe, as it might disturb the universe. She could feel her heart pulsing, like someone thrashing about in their sleep in the middle of a nightmare. The whole thing was just like a nightmare; it was like she had woken up inside a dream. Her heart beat at her furiously; she wished it would stop and be still. She wished she could get up and leave, but her legs were glued so tightly together, as she sat before the detective. She wondered what he was thinking. She blushed to imagine that he might be thinking her very stupid indeed. She leaned forward and tried to look intelligent, but she found she had no idea of what “intelligent” really looked like.

“I understand.” Radley understood. He nodded his head slowly, and his grey eyes relaxed compassionately.

He understood? Her heart flickered and soothed its ruffled arteries. Perhaps he did not think her quite so stupid. Perhaps he knew what it was like – perhaps he had experienced this sort of situation before. Well, of course he had, from that side of the desk; but maybe he had seen the other side before, as well. Alice took another breath.

“I was going in there to work on my paper … I had just finished breakfast.”

“Could you tell me what time that was?” He took his pencil up again.

“Oh. Um, yes. Almost seven. I didn’t have a class in the morning, so I was planning on having breakfast and then getting an early start on my paper. I ate breakfast with a friend who did have a class, though. Fiona O’Driscoll. She had an art class, I think.”

“And when you arrived at the Lincoln Room?” Lieutenant Radley encouraged.

“Oh, yes, sorry. Um, I walked into the room – I looked around to see where to sit. I didn’t see anybody else there, so I went over to the chairs by the fireplace.” Her words began to drag their feet. She glanced at the detective reluctantly. “Then I saw … him. I thought he was reading, at first; then I thought he was sleeping. Oh!” and with a cry she covered her mouth and squeezed her eyes as tightly as possible.

Radley leaned forward and tried to say something, but she jerked her head back and breathed deeply again. She opened her eyes, wet and in shock, but ever so blue.

“I’m sorry.” The words choked her.

“I understand.”

“And so,” she continued, gasping for air, “I sat down; I took out a book, but he didn’t hear anything.” Another gasp. “His phone went off, and I tried to ignore it, but when I realized he wasn’t waking up, I … I don’t know why, but I went over and tried to wake him up … I think I – I shook him. But then I saw his face, and …” She took another deep breath.

“But you did not know him.”

“That’s right. I didn’t even recognize him. It’s such a small campus, usually everybody knows everybody … but maybe he was a freshman?”

“You did not notice anything else out of the ordinary – perhaps a chair knocked over, or different lighting than usual?”

“No, I didn’t.” She paused. “Should I have?”

“It’s just a routine question. Have you anything else to mention that might pertain to the case?”

“No.” She sighed. “Nothing helpful.” She glanced around the room, her eyes wearily scanning the darkened walls for any sign of light. “I used to read about – things – like this – in stories. But I never thought they could be real.”

She dug her fists into her eyes, trying to dam the flooding tears. Oh, where was Eddie? Why couldn’t he be here? No, he couldn’t. She had to act like an adult now. She had to think like a rational human being.

Radley did not pick up his pencil. Instead, he folded his hands and placed them on the desk. He remembered the first time he had interviewed a young girl for a position; she had been chipper, eager, anxious, on the edge of her seat, her voice high-pitched and squeaking from excitement. It was that voice which had made him pick another applicant. It wasn’t necessarily that the voice’s decibels had reached too high for his ears to accept; no, it was the self-conceit which tried to hide under the guise of self-confidence, which manifested itself in the squeaky voice,  that he had hated so very much.

Alice sat huddled in the corner of her chair, her head bent, her voice low and nervous.

“My profound apologies, Lieutenant,” she straightened herself in the chair, and looked the detective straight in the eye. “I am behaving very badly. But I will stop now. And it won’t happen again.”

Lieutenant Radley smiled. “Not to worry,” he said. “You’ve been in a situation that very few people are able to experience without much turmoil. You have been very helpful, moreover, and we will do our best to clear up this case and put things to right.” He rose, and she rose, straightening herself and setting her shoulders at their most socialite angle, just as her mother had taught her.

“I hope, Lieutenant, that I will be able to be more helpful as the case progresses.” She held out her hand to him.

Lieutenant Radley gravely took and shook the proffered hand, and assured her that he hoped she would be able to, as well.

“If you ever need me to – to do anything, to look into anything, to … to ask anyone questions, I will be – be honored to do so.”

Lieutenant Radley restrained from raising an eyebrow, and assured the girl that if ever the need might arise, he would get in touch with her immediately. Had he worn a hat, he would have tipped it, as he held the door for her to walk out into the hall.