Inspector Morse 13 The Remorseful Day

"It's central-locking," volunteered Rowers.

But Johnson said nothing, responding only for a semi- second with a look of

contemptuous ingratitude.

As far as Edwards could make out, Morse had enjoyed that moment, since more

than a semi-smile formed around his mouth when fifteen seconds later there

was a quiet 'clunk' as the catches on the four doors sprang upwards in

simultaneous freedom.

R456 LJB was open for inspection.

After pulling on a pair of green-latex gloves, Rowers now opened the two

offside doors; and Morse glanced over the front seats, before contemplating

for a good deal longer the darkly glutinous covering of blood that stained

the seats and flooring in the back.  With a softly spoken

"OK', he was walking away towards the Rosie O'Grady when Johnson tapped him

on the shoulder.

"You mentioned expenses, Mr Morse?"

"I did.  You're right."

"Well, there's that taxi I came in eight quid two quid dp - ten quid here and

back.  Twenny, I make that."

"Since when's Snotty Joe been running a taxi business?"

"Well, you know, more a sort of... private hire, like."

Morse felt in his pockets and pulled out a handful of coins.  '85p, isn't it,

the bus fare to St Giles'?  And, you're right, you've got to get back.  "

He handed Johnson two 1 coins.

"Keep the change.  You can buy a copy of The Times to read on the ride back."

"Wrong, aincha, Mr Morse!  Times is 50p Sat'days."  Unsmiling, Morse handed

over a further 20p, and the pair parted without any further word.  And

Edwards, who had witnessed the brief scene, found himself wondering what

exactly were the favours each had bestowed upon the other in the prosecution

and pursuance of crime in North Oxford over recent years.

Morse was a few steps ahead of Lewis as he made his way to the pub entrance.

"We'd better leave 'em for half an hour or so.  They won't want us breathing

down their necks .  .  .  By the way, you'd better lend me a river, Lewis.

I've just parted with the only--' Morse stopped.  Turned round.  Stepped back

to the scene of the crime.

Ordered Flowers to open the boot.

Not himself knowing the identity of the body he now saw curled up in foetal

configuration there, young Edwards was to remember that particular moment

with an oddly inappropriate sense of gratitude, for he saw the colour of

Morse's cheeks fade by swiftly developing degrees from dingy yellow to sickly

white, and watched as of a sudden the great man turned away and vomited

violently over the recently renovated tarmac.  It was like a fledgling actor

appearing on stage with Sir John Gielgud and seeing that great man fluffing

the friendliest of lines in rehearsal, and thereby giving some unexpected

encouragement to the rest of the cast, all of them now less terrified of

fluffing their own.

151

chapter thirty-three for the good are always the merry, Save by an evil

dance, And the merry love the fiddle, And the merry love to dance: And when

the folk there spy me, They will all come up to me, With "Here is the fiddler

o/Dooney!"  And dance like a wave of the sea.

(W.  B.  Yeats, The Fiddler ofDooney) morse, after disappearing into the

Gents for several long minutes, now sat looking slightly more his wonted self

as he sank his nose into the deep head on the Guinness.  Just the stuff if

you've got a foul taste in the throat!  " Giving his chief a little while to

recover some measure of dignity, Lewis gazed around him.  Everything was

wooden there: the bar, the wall-settles, the floor, the table at which they

sat all good solid if somewhat battered wood, with any once-applied stain

long since worn off.  The walls and ceilings had originally been painted in

yellow and orange, but now were coated over with the nicotine of countless

cigarettes.  The friezes of the walls were adorned with the dicta of several

great Irishmen, their words attractively set in black-lettered

Gaelic script.  One in particular had already caught Lewis's eye: Where is

the we of calling it a lend when I know I will never see it again ?

Good question!  But a question not so pressing as the one he now put to

Morse: "Was it a surprise to you?"

"Was what a surprise?"

"Finding Harry Repp's body in the boot?"

Morse nodded as he wiped away a white moustache.

"This morning I thought I had a fair idea about what we were dealing with.

But now that I'm perfectly sure that I've none .  .  ."  He pointed up at the

wall to their right.

"Bit like Oscar Wilde, really."

Lewis looked up at the words written there: / was working on the proof of my

poems all this morning and took out a comma.  In the afternoon I put it hack

again.

For Lewis it was a sombre moment and he sipped his orange juice with little

joy; even less joy as he saw the outline of Chief Superintendent Strange

looming large in the doorway, then waddling awkwardly to their table, where

he sat down, wiping his moistened brow with a vast handkerchief.

"Pretty kettle o' fish you've got us into now, Morse!"

Then, turning to Lewis: "You in the chair?"

"Well ' " Good!  Good man!  I'll have the same as the Chief Inspector here.  "

"Pint, sir?"