Inspector Morse 11 The Daughters of Cain

Lewis thought of events earlier in the day; thought of Phillotson's withdrawal from the present case; thought of Morse's almost contemptuous dismissal of the man's ex-38 cuses. Almost automatically, it seemed, Morse had assumed him to be parading a few phoney pretexts about his wife's hospitalisation in order to avoid the humiliation of failure in a murder case. Agreed, Phillotson wasn't exactly Sherlock Holmes, Lewis knew that. Yet Morse could be needlessly creel about some of his colleagues. And why did he have to be so sharp? As he had been just now?

Still, Lewis knew exactly what to do about his own tem-porary irritation. Count to ten!--that's what Morse had once told him--fore getting on to any high horse; and then, if necessary, count to twenty. Not that there was much sign that Morse ever heeded his own advice. He usually only counted to two or three. If that.

Deciding, therefore, the time to be as yet inopportune for any consideration of the old lady's testimony, Lewis re-verted to his earlier task. There was still a great deal of ma-terial to look through, and he was glad to get down to something whose purpose he could readily grasp. The pa-pers there, all the papers in the drawers and those stacked along the shelves, had already been examined---clearly that was the case. Not radically disturbed, though; not taken away to be documented in some dubious filing-system until sooner or later, as with almost everything in life, being duly labelled "OBE."

Overtaken By Events.

Glancing across at Morse, Lewis saw the chief abstracting another book from a set of volumes beautifully bound in golden leather; a slim volume this time; a volume of verse by the look of it. And even as he watched, he saw Morse turning the book through ninety degrees and appar-ently reading some marginalia beside one of the poems there. For the present, however, the Do Not Disturb sign was prominently displayed, and with his usual competence Lewis resumed his own considerable task.

Thus it was that for the next half-hour or so the two men sat reading their different texts; preparing (as it were) for their different examinations; each conscious of the other's presence; yet each, for the moment, and for different rea-sons, unwilling to speak his own immediate thoughts.

Especially Morse.

Yet it was the latter who finally broke the silence.

"What did you make of her, there? Our Mrs. Wynne-Wilson?"

"'Mrs.,' sir?" asked Lewis slowly.

Morse threw an interested, inquisitive look at his sergeant. "Go on!"

"Well, I'd noticed from the start she wasn't wearing a wedding ring. As you did, of course."

"Of course."

"But I couldn't see any, you know, any mark of any ring like you'd normally have, wouldn't you? A sort of, you know, pale ring of skin, son of thing, where the ring had been--before she took it off."

"Not a particularly fluent sentence that, Lewis, if I may say so."

"But you noticed that, too?"

"Me? Your eyesight's far better than mine."

"Makes you wonder, though."

"You reckon she was making it op--about her mar-riage?'

"Wouldn't surprise me, sir."

"And apart from that T'

"She seemed a pretty good witness. Her mind's pretty sharp. She got you weighed up all right."

"Yees... So you don't think she was making anything else up T'

"No. Do you?"

"Lew-is! When will you learn. She's a phoney. She's a phoney from A to Z."

Lewis's look now was one of semi-exasperation. "Them you go again! I think you're far too qtfick--"

"Let me tell you something. She just about takes the bis-cuit, that woman--give or take one or two congenitally compulsive liars we've had in the past."

Lewis shook his head sadly as Morse continued: "Wedding ring? You're right. Odds strongly against her having worn one recently. Not necessarily the same as not being married though, is it? Suggestive, though, yes. Sug-gestive that she might be telling a few other fibs as well."

"Such as?"

"Well, it was obvious she wasn't deaf at all. She heard everything I said. Easy. Kein Problem."

"She didn't hear me."

"She didn't want to hear you, Lewis."

"If you say so, sir."

"What about her eyesight? Kept telling us, didn't she, that she couldn't see half as well as she used to? But that didn't stop her giving us a detailed description of the woman who came to visit Mc Clure. She knew she'd got a ring in one of her nostrils--at twenty-odd yards, Lewis! And the only reason she couldn't tell us if she'd got two rings in her nose was because she saw her in profite like she sees everyone in profile coming in through that trance."

"Why don't you think she was making all that up, too, sir that description she gave?"

"Good point." Morse looked down at the carpet briefly. "But I don't think so; that bit rang Irue to me. In fact, I reckon it was the only thing of any value she did come up with."

"What about--?"

"Lewis! She's a phoney. She's not even been a nurse-- let alone a matron or whatever you call 'em."

"How can you say that?"