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“What happened then?”

“I said something to the effect that if we were going to get carried away, I knew a better place in the building.”

“The staff smoking room?” I asked.

He nodded.

“So you went there?”

“Yes. It’s just down the hall from my office.”

The lieutenant took the edge off his voice. “Did you ever feel at any point that you were under the influence of some … drug … or potion?”

Dr. Penrood did a very good job right then of feigning what might be called the ignorance of innocence. He shook his head, appeared to think back, made a grimace. “I can’t really tell. It did happen quite … suddenly. At the time I just thought it was … Celeste.”

“Do you know if Professor Ossmann was working on any kind of aphrodisiac? I mean, on the side.”

Again he hesitated, but only for a moment. “He could have been, but I doubt it.”

“How’s that?”

“Professor Ossmann was a serious scientist. He tracked assiduously every last tittle he contributed to any project. I doubt very much he would have been involved in something he couldn’t put his name on.”

“But it’s not inconceivable?”

“No …”

The lieutenant looked up, glanced at me, and said, “I think that’s enough for now, Dr. Penrood. I’m going to have this typed up, and I would like you to sign it.”

“But …”

“It won’t be under oath. If, later, you want to add or subtract something, we’ll understand completely. People often leave out things, details.”

“Is it really necessary?”

“No, not really. But it will look a lot better for you if …”

By the time Dr. Penrood left he had lost that air of superiority that mantles so many British of a certain class.

I tackled, and that is the operative verb, Celeste Tangent next. Lieutenant Tracy suggested that I speak to her alone. He was of the opinion, and I agreed with him, that, given her background, Ms. Tangent might open up more with me, say things she might not say in the presence of the police.

So this afternoon, when Doreen ushered Ms. Tangent — “Oh, please, Celeste” — into my office, the dear girl showed all the awed deference she might have held for a movie star. I was a little awed myself, frankly, with the way Ms. Tangent’s rich blond hair swept up from a regal neck, the sudden, brilliant smile lighting from behind the cornflower eyes, the formfitting slacks and how she sat herself just so into the chair I held for her in front of my desk.

She was instantly alive with throwaway chatter in an accent I couldn’t quite place, Oklahoma, perhaps, with an overlay of Brooklyn. “Oh, but I do love this part of the museum. I mean parts of it are creepy, you know, but really fascinating.”

I nodded, half hypnotized not so much by the way her turtleneck of fine wool molded her ample bosom, but by her eyes and voice and how they played off each other, the effect like some exquisite sonata. A lab assistant, indeed.

I cleared my throat. “Ms. Tangent …”

“Oh, please, Celeste.”

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to call you Ms. Tangent.”

She smiled. “Actually, coming from you, it sounds really nice. But then call me Miss Tangent. Ms. always sounds like someone who wears heavy shoes.”

I cleared my throat again. “Miss Tangent, as you probably know by now, we have a somewhat compromising tape of a person we know to be you with Dr. Penrood and the late Professor Ossmann involved in …”

She gave a tut of mock self-reproval that, as she leaned toward me, turned into a kind of confiding embarrassment. “Oh, our little threesome. It was all my fault. I know you think Pen — Dr. Penrood, isn’t that a silly name — told me to tell you that. But it’s true. Sometimes, Mr ….”

“De Ratour.”

“Mr. de Ratour, now, that’s a name. Anyway, there are times when I feel lonely with just one guy. But not with every man, Mr. de Ratour. There are men who are up to it. I can sense it in them. Even some older guys …”

“Miss Tangent …”

She smiled, gave a laugh. “So they have it on tape. Oh, my God, I hope my mother never gets to see it. She’s born-again. She has Jesus for breakfast. Can I get a copy? I could have been a porn star …”

“But instead