Inspector Morse 13 The Remorseful Day

"The same as the Chief Inspector that's what I said, Sergeant."

Lewis repaired to the bar once more and listened to the

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 comparatively quiet background music that was as Trish as the pub was

Trish, all flutes and fiddles, and wondered how long Morse would stick the

noise before calling for a few less decibels.

After taking a deep draught, Strange turned to Morse.

"You do realize, don't you, that you and Lewis have dragged me away from the

golf course twice!"

Td've thought you'd be glad, especially if you were losing.  "

Strange grinned wryly.

"I don't often win these days, you're right."

"None of us gets much better as we get older."

"Only two things we can be sure of.  Morse death and taxes.  Some US

President said that."

"Benjamin Franklin," supplied Lewis, to whom each of the two senior officers

turned with some surprise, though without enquiry into the provenance of such

splendid knowledge.

"What do you make of all this?"  continued Strange quietly.

Morse shook his head.

"You may have been having a lousy round of golf.  I was having a lovely sleep

myself."

"That's no answer."

"Dr Hobson'll be here soon."

"Already here."

"Nothing we can do till we get some reports, results of the postmortems ' "

Somebody once told me the plural should be post-mortes.  "

"Bloody pedant!"

"It was you actually, Morse."

"Ah!"

"You've got a good team of SO COs

Morse nodded.

"So we'll wait to hear about all the bits and bobs they'll be bagging up and

labelling and sending off to forensics.  And all the fingerprints they'll be

taking from windows and side-mirrors and body-work and seat-belt buckles and

cassettes and .  .  ."  Morse had run out of potential surfaces.

"That's it!"  Strange sounded somewhat heartened.

"All you've got to do is eliminate ninety-five per cent of the dabs, and then

you've got your man."

"Unless he was wearing gloves," suggested Lewis.

"It's all tied up with that bloody Lower Swinstead business!"  blurted out

Strange.

"You're probably right," said Morse.

"And don't forget the simplest answer is usually the correct answer!

Spur o' the moment stuff, most homicides.  You know that.  "

"Perhaps so," admitted Morse, beckoning the landlord over.  "Open all day?"

"All night too should you wish it, sorr."

And yes, of course the police could make use of one of the bars for the

evening; of course the police could make use of whatever the Rosie O'Grady

had to offer: telephone, washing and toilet facilities, bar facilities .  .  .

"And perhaps .  .  .  ?"  The landlord pointed to the two empty glasses.

"On the house the pleasure's all mine."

"Well, perhaps, er .  .  ."  said Strange.

"You're twisting my arm," said Morse.

"Make it three pints of Guinness," said Lewis.

Morse glanced across at his sergeant with a look of astonishment the landlord

departed; and Strange got down to business.

"Logistics, Morse.  Let's talk logistics.  How many men do you want?"

"If you gave me a hundred, I wouldn't know what to do with one of them not

yet."

"Now come off it, matey!  Couldn't you perhaps have a look at when and how

and what and why your bloody corpses were doing?  See their relatives,

friends, enemies, wives, for God's sake?"

"Flynn hadn't got a wife," interposed Lewis.

"RepphzdV ^5

 " No, sir," corrected Lewis bravely.

"He'd got a partner--' " Well go and see herV snapped Strange.

"No," said Morse.

"I'll go to see her myself."

"Why's that?"

"I have my reasons."

The landlord had returned with the drinks.

"As I said on the house, gentlemenI' Morse thanked him and made a request: "

You know this, er, music you're playing here this Trish music .  ?  "

"Perhaps you'd like it.  ..  ?"

"Yes.  If you could turn it up just a bit?"

Lewis glanced across at the Chief Inspector with a look of astonishment; the

landlord departed; and Strange leaned back with an expression of contentment.

"You know, Morse, I'm glad you said diat.

The missus .  we had a couple of days in Cork and we did a bit of Trish

dancing together .  .  me and the missus .  or I suppose you'd say the missus

and me.  "

"The missus and I, sir."

But further grammatical preferences were curtailed by the arrival of Dr Laura

Hobson.

"Everything all right.  Doctor?"  shouted Strange, above the background music

that had suddenly lunged to the fore- ground.

"No, everything's all wrong!  I cannot cope with things as they are out die

re I want the car moved out to the lab with the body kept in the boot.  How

on earth you tfiink?"

"Done!"  Strange held up the great slab diat was his right hand.

"Lewis will arrange it immediately, once he's finished his drink.  Si' down,

Doctor.  Just give me a minute or two."  He sat back in his chair, beaming

like a benign old uncle.

"Takes you back.  Morse, doesn't it?"

"Remember the old poem, sir?

"When I play on my fiddle in Dooney, Folk dance like a wave of the sea.  .."

"Yes!  Yes, I do," said Strange gently.

And for a while Sergeant Lewis and Dr Hobson remained silent, as if they knew

they should be treading softly; as if they might be treading on other

people's dreams.

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