Inspector Morse 13 The Remorseful Day

"Well, this fellow's not got any, has he?  Anyway he's much smaller, only

what?  - five-four, five-five.  Doesn't weigh much either eight, nine stone?

No more."

Morse nodded.

"And he's got different coloured hair, and he's got a port-wine stain on his

neck, and he's not wearing Repp's clothes, and his shoes are three sizes

smaller ' " All right.  I wasn't expecting the Queen's Medal!  "

At which Eddie Andrews, the 2i/c senior SOCO, knocked on the door and entered

the office, at once uncertain whether to address himself to Morse or to

Lewis.  He decided on the former: "Safe, I reckon, to move him now?  Dr

Hobson says there's not much else she can do here."

Morse shrugged.

"You'd better ask Sergeant Lewis.  He's in charge."

And Lewis rose to the occasion.

"Yes, move him.  Thank you."

As he was about to leave, Andrews noticed the TV set.  "Mind if I just see

how Northants are getting on in the cricket?"

"Important to you, is it?"  queried Morse mildly.  Andrews was digitally

discovering Sport (Cricket) on Ceefax when the office door burst open to

admit a florid-faced Chief Superintendent Strange, an officer resolutely

determined to retain the appellation

"Chief, whatever most of his collateral colleagues in the Force were doing.

"You've ruined my afternoon's golf, Lewis!  You know that?"

Surprisingly, the words were spoken with little sign of animus.  But before

Lewis could respond in any way, Strange was addressing Morse in considerably

sharper tones: "And how exactly do you come to be here?"

 "Same as you really, sir.

Ruined my day, too.  I was just indulging in a little Egyptian PT - ' "After

indulging in a lot of Scottish whisky by the smell of it!"

' - when Lewis here rang and asked me to come along.  Well, he's been a

faithful soul most of the time, so .  .  "

"So you just came along as a sort of personal favour?"

"That's about it."   (Andrews sidled silently from the room.   ) "Well let

me tell you one thing, matey.   You won't be staying on as a personal favour

is that clear?   You'll be staying on because you're in charge of this case

because that's an order.   You may have had some excuse as far as the

Harrison case was concerned: I could just about understand that."

(Strange's voice had momentarily dropped to a semi-sympathetic register.   )

"But you've no bloody excuse now.   And if you decide to get on your high

horse again and start arguing the toss with me, you'll be up before the Chief

Constable first thing Monday morning!"

"The Chief's on furlough," interposed a brave Lewis.

129

 "Shut up, Lewis!  And he'll have your guts for garters, Morse.  So

that's settled.  All you've got to do is sober up and put your thinking-cap

on."

"I usually think better when But Morse's disquisition on his personal style

of ratiocination was cut short by a further knock, with Dr Hobson's pretty

head appearing round the door.

"Oh, sorry!  It's just ' " Come in!  " growled Strange, his jowls still

wobbling.

"Just thought I'd check.  We've got him outside and Andrews says it's OK if '

" Who is he?  " asked Strange.

"Don't know.  I had a tentative feel round his pockets.  No wallet, though,

no cards ' " He's pretty easily recognizable though?  "

"Oh, yes.  His face is fine.  It's his stomach that's all a gory mess where

the knife or whatever it was went in."

"At least we've got a good mug-shot of him then."

"Probably identify him straightaway.  I got this from his trouser-pocket."

Strange looked down at a white

"Cardholder's Copy' receipt from Oddbins of Banbury Road, itemizing the

purchase of a crate of Guinness, the number of the Visa credit card printed

below in a faded indigo.

"There we are, Lewis!  Shouldn't be too difficult, should it?"  He handed

over the receipt with an unconvincing smile.  "Unless you manage to lose

that, of course."

It was a hurtful dig.  But the patient Lewis briefly examined the evidence

himself, and sought to put a finger on the fairly obvious: "Not much chance

this afternoon, sir.  Saturday?  The banks'll all be shut."

"What?  For Christ's sake, man!  We've put someone on the moon, remember?

And you say we can't trace a credit-card

number because it's a bloody Saturday^.  Is that what you're telling me?  "

Morse had remained silent during these exchanges; and remained so now, his

brain already galloping several furlongs ahead of the field.

And Lewis, after such a withering rebuke, also remained silent, holding the

receipt tightly, like a punter clutching a winning betting-slip.  Only

Strange, it appeared, was willing to break the awkward silence as he turned

again to Dr Hobson.

"They're just carting him off, you say?"

"Yes."

"Well, let us know let Chief Inspector Morse know what you come up with.

Sooner the quicker.  Understood?"

"Of course."

The assembled personages rose to their feet; and matters at Sutton Courtenay

were seemingly now at an end.

But not so; not quite.

It was Morse, at last, who made his brief though extra- ordinarily

significant contribution to the afternoon's developments

"Sir, I think you ought to have a look at him."