Inspector Morse 13 The Remorseful Day

and a single ear-ring in the left lobe.  A dark-blue T-shirt paraded

"The Maidens Arms' across a deep chest.

Lewis came to the point without preamble: "You know a woman called Deborah

Deborah Richardson?"

"Debbie?  Oh yeah.  Everybody knows Debbie."  He spoke with a West Country

burr, and clearly neither of the card-players was hard-of-hearing, for had

Lewis had occasion to turn round at that moment he would have noted a

half-smiling nod of agreement on each of their faces.

Lewis continued: "Her partner's been released from prison this morning.  You

know Harry Repp?"

"Harry?  Oh yeah!  Everybody knows Harry."  (The fingers of the card-players

froze momentarily, and each had stopped smiling.  ) "He's not been in this

morning?"

Td've seen him if he had, wouldn't I?  "

"It's just that he's not been home yet, that's all.  And we want to make sure

he's OK."

"Having a noggin or two somewhere, I shouldn't wonder.  That's what I'd be

doing."

"How long have you been landlord here?"

"Let's see now..."

"Seven year come September, Biff," came an answer from behind.

"Thank you, Bert!"  Biff turned his attention back to Lewis as he held a

proprietorially polished glass up to the light like a radiographer examining

an X-ray.

"You're going to ask me about the murder I know that.  There's been things in

the papers, and we're all interested.

Can't pretend we're not.  Biggest thing ever happened round here.  "

"Lots of rum ours weren't there?  You know, about Mrs Harrison.  Having a bit

on the side, perhaps?"

"Well, it weren't me!  And Alf and Bert here, they're both a bit past it now."

("Speak for yourself!"  - from one of the septuagenarians.  ) "Did she ever

come in here with any men?"

Biff shook his head indeterminately: "Simon, the boy?  Only occasionally

though.  Deaf, see!  I 'spect it was a bit dull for him not being able to

hear the sparkling repartee of my regulars, like Alf and Bert here."

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 ("Used to drink Coca-Cola from Alf, or was it Bert?) " What about the

daughter?  "

"Sarah?  Nice pair o' legs, Sarah."

("Not the only nice pair o' things!"  - sotto voce from behind.  ) "With a

boyfriend in tow, was it?"

"Sometimes."

"With her mum?"

"Nah!  Wouldn't have wanted act-around, would she?"

"Why not?"

"Well .  .  .  attractive, wasn't she, Sarah?  It was her mum had the real

sex-appeal, though.  Could have had most fellahs round here, if they'd had

ajar or two."

("Even if they hadn't!"  - from Bert, or was it Alf?  ) "Did you ever come up

with any names?"

"Names?  Nah!  Like I said .  .  ."

"Must have been rum ours though?"

"Never heard any me self  Biff looked over Lewis's shoulder: "You ever hear

any rum ours lads?"

"Not me," said Bert.

"Nor me," said Alf.

Lewis felt certain that all three of them were lying.  And, according to the

report, the police on the original enquiry had felt very much the same: that

the villagers were quite willing to hint that Yvonne Harrison had not exactly

been the high priestess of marital fidelity; but that when it came to naming

names, they'd decided to clamp up.  En bloc.

"Drink on the house, sir?"

Lewis declined, and bade his farewell, nodding to the card- players as he

walked to the door, where he stopped and turned back towards the landlord,

pointing to the T-shirt: "Shouldn't there be an apostrophe before the " s"?"

Biff grinned.

"Funny you should say that.  Fellow in here last night asked me exactly the

same thing!"

Lewis walked slowly round to the car park, noting the plaque on the

side-wall: Parking strictly for customers.  Other vehicles will be clamped.

Release fee 25 Need more than that, thought Lewis, to un-clamp a small

community which was so clearly still maintaining its conspiracy of silence.

But Lewis was wrong.

As he took out his car-keys, he saw the youth who had just been feeding the

fruits of his lab ours into the fruit machine.  Waiting for him.  Beside the

car.

"Police, aincha?"

"Yes?"

"You was asking about things in there."

"I'm always asking about things."

"Just that somebody else was asking them same sort o' questions, see?

Couldn't help hearing, could I?  And this fellah - he was asking me a few

things.  About Mrs Harrison.  About if I'd ever seen her with any fellah in

the pub.  But I couldn't quite remember.  Not at the time.  "

"You remember now, though?"

"Right on the nail, copper.  Told me to give 'im a buzz if I suddenly

remembered something.  Said, you know, it might be worthwhile like."

"Why didn't you ring him?"

"That's just it, though.  I'd seen her with the fellah that asked me, see?

Same bleedin fellah!"

"You mean ... it was him you'd seen with Mrs Harrison?"

"Right on the nail, copper."

"What did he look like, this fellow?"

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 "Well, sort of ... I can't really .  .  ."  "He gave you his name?"

"No.  Gave me 'is phone number though, like I said."  The youth produced a

circular beer-mat from his pocket.  Lewis looked down at a telephone number

written above the red Bass triangle, written in the small, neat hand he knew

so well: the personal ex-directory telephone number of Chief Inspector Morse.