Inspector Morse 13 The Remorseful Day

saw a pair of oblique parallel lines passing almost in slow motion across the

oblong frame of the second- floor window.  So sharply was that momentary

configuration imprinted upon her retina that she was able to describe it so

very precisely later that same afternoon; was able to recall that

ear-splitting, skin-tingling shriek of terror as the man whose skull was

about to be smashed to pieces fell headfirst on to the compacted pathway

below, so very few yards from her own front door.

"Dead," the senior paramedic had told her quietly, six minutes only

after her panic-stricken call on 999.  Incontrovertibly dead.

For the next hour or so Mrs Bayley wept almost uncontrollably.

Partly from shock.  Partly, too, from guilt, because (as she repeatedly

reminded herself) it was her fault that he'd appeared upon the scene in the

first place.  She'd found his name among the local builders and

house-renovators listed alphabetically in the Telephone Directory.  In the

Yellow Pages, in fact.  Exactly where Sergeant Lewis, also, had discovered

the address ofJ.  Barron, Builder, together with a telephone num- her in

Lower Swinstead.

198

chapter forty-two And what is the use of a book without pictures or

conversations?

(Lewis Can-oil, Alice in Wonderland) had he been left to himself, had he been

without any knowledge of the context in which the apparent 'accident' had

occurred, Lewis would not have suspected that it all amounted to murder.  But

it had been murder, he felt sure of that; and four hours earlier he had taken

personal responsibility for initiating the whole apparatus of yet another

murder enquiry.  Same SO COs as in the Sutton Courtenay murder, same

pathologist, same everything; but with almost every sign of immediate

activity over when, just before 3 p.  m.  " Morse finally put in an

appearance, very soon to be seating himself in Mrs Bayley's north-facing

sitting room on the ground floor.

"Northamptonshire faring any better?"  he asked the senior SOCO.

"Next year, perhaps," said Eddie Andrews pessimistically.

"You'd be out of a job without me," continued Morse.

"Just like Dr Hobson here."

But the unsmiling pathologist could find little place in her heart for any

banter and ignored the comment.  As did Edwards.

The gloomy room was suddenly empty, apart from Sergeant Lewis.

"You said there wasn't any danger of him being murdered, sir."

Morse could find no satisfactory answer, and stared silently

 out of the

window until Mrs Bayley came in with (for Morse) wholly unwelcome cups of

coffee and the same two digestive biscuits that Barron would have eaten with

his over-sugared tea.

"You mentioned to Sergeant Lewis what you saw from the window?  The one above

this, wasn't it?"

She nodded.

"It made such a vivid imprint on the, er .  .  ."

"Retina?"  suggested Lewis.

"Thank you, Sergeant.  I did myself once work in the Oxford Eye Hospital."

She turned to Morse.

"You'11 think me a silly old woman, but it reminded me of something I saw

quite a few years ago now in one of the Sundays.  There were these outline

drawings sent in by readers and you had to guess what they were; and one of

them always stuck in my, er .  .  ."  (This time Lewis desisted.  ) She took a

pencil and without permission made a quick little drawing in Lewis's

notebook: "Can't you guess.  Inspector?"  Her eyes twinkled.  Morse frowned,

about to suggest something wildly inappropriate when the undeterred Lewis

intervened: "Giraffe walking past a window?"

"You clever man."

"No!"  Lewis smiled deprecadngly.

"I'd seen it before."

He took a pencil and made an equally quick little drawing underneath:

"Aristocratic sardine in a tin!"  she cried triumphantly.  "You clever woman!"

She shook her head.

"I'd seen it before."

Morse sounded wearily impatient.

"I'm very sorry to interrupt the fun, Mrs Bayley, but.  .  ."

"Of course.  Forgive me!"

"Which way was your, er, giraffe walking?  Left to right?  Right to left?"

"Left to right exactly like I've drawn it.  Inspector."

"So if the ladder fell across the window7 from left to right, the bottom of

the ladder must have slipped from right to left that is, from your point of

view here in the house, Mrs Bayley?"

"I'm not quite sure I follow you."

"I mean, if someone had come along and given the ladder a hefty kick at the

bottom, he'd probably have been coming from' (Morse pointed to the right)

'the centre ofBurfbrd, say, to' (Morse pointed vaguely to the left) 'wherever

this road leads to?"

"Bourton on the Water."

"Thank you, Lewis!"

"But we know that, sir about the ladder, I mean.  They found him six or seven

yards to the right of the front door.  That's from Mrs Bayley's point of view

of course," he added mischievously.

"Yes!"  whispered the lady of the household, as so vividly she recalled that

terrible sight, with the red Stanley knife lying there beside the shattered

skull.

Morse was looking far from pleased.  Even less so when a further cup of

coffee was suggested.  The room had become chillier, and he shivered slightly

as he got to his feet.  It was time for the cliches: "If you do remember