Death Is Now My Neighbour Part 13

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR.

Men ent.i.tled to bleat BA after their names (D. S. MacColl) THE S SENIOR C COMMON Room at Lonsdale is comparatively small, and for this reason has a rather more intimate air about it than some of the s.p.a.cious SCRs in the larger Oxford Colleges. Light-coloured, beautifully grained oak-panelling encloses the room on all sides, its colouring complemented by the light-brown leather sofas and armchairs there. Copies of almost all the national dailies, including the Room at Lonsdale is comparatively small, and for this reason has a rather more intimate air about it than some of the s.p.a.cious SCRs in the larger Oxford Colleges. Light-coloured, beautifully grained oak-panelling encloses the room on all sides, its colouring complemented by the light-brown leather sofas and armchairs there. Copies of almost all the national dailies, including the Sun Sun and the and the Mirror, Mirror, are to be found on the gla.s.s-topped coffee-tables; and indeed it is usually these tabloids which are flipped through first - sometimes intently studied - by the majority of the dons. are to be found on the gla.s.s-topped coffee-tables; and indeed it is usually these tabloids which are flipped through first - sometimes intently studied - by the majority of the dons.

Forgathered here on the evening of Friday, 23 February (7.00 for 7.30) was a rather overcrowded throng of dons, accompanied by wives, partners, friends, to enjoy a Guest Night - an occasion celebrated by the College four times per term. A white-coated scout stood by the door with a silver tray holding thinly fluted gla.s.ses of sherry: either the pale-amber 'dry' variety or the darker brown 'medium', for it was a basic a.s.sumption in such a setting that no one could ever wish for the deeply umbered 'sweet'.

A begowned Jasper Bradley took a gla.s.s of dry, drained it at a swallow, put the gla.s.s back on to the tray, and took another. He was particularly pleased with himself that day; and and with the with the Cla.s.sical Quarterly, Cla.s.sical Quarterly, whose review of whose review of Greek Moods and Tenses Greek Moods and Tenses (J. J. Bradley, 204 pp, 45.50, Cla.s.sical Press) contained the wonderful lines which Bradley had now by heart: (J. J. Bradley, 204 pp, 45.50, Cla.s.sical Press) contained the wonderful lines which Bradley had now by heart: A small volume, but one which plumbs the unfathomed mysteries of the aorist subjunctive with imaginative insights into the very origins of language.

Yes. He felt decidedly chuffed.

'How's tricks?' he asked, looking up at Donald Franks, a very tall astrophysicist, recently head-hunted from Cambridge, whose dark, lugubrious features suggested that for his part he'd managed few imaginative insights that week into the origins of the universe.

'So-so.'

'Who d'you fancy then?' 'What - of the women here?' 'For the Master's job.' 'Dunno.'

'Who'll you vote for?' 'Secret ballot, innit?'

Mr and Mrs Denis Cornford now came in, each taking a gla.s.s of the medium sherry. Sh.e.l.ly looked extremely attractive and perhaps a little skimpily dressed for such a chilly evening. She wore a lightweight white two-piece suit; and as she bent down to pick up a cheese-nibble her low-cut, bottle-green blouse gaped open to reveal a splendid glimpse of her beautiful b.r.e.a.s.t.s. 'Je-sus!' muttered Bradley.

'She certainly flouts her t.i.ts a bit,' mumbled the melancholy Franks.

'You mean "flaunts" 'em, I think.'

'If you say so,' said Franks, slightly wounded.

Bradley moved to the far end of the room where Angela Storrs stood talking to a small priest, clothed all in black, with buckled shoes and leggings.

'All, Jasper! Come and meet Father Dooley from Sligo.'

Clearly Angela Storrs had decided she had now done her duty; for soon she drifted away - tall, long-legged, wearing a dark-grey trouser-suit with a white high-necked jumper. There was about her an almost patrician mien, her face high-cheekboned and pale, with the hair swept back above her ears and fastened in a bun behind. It was obvious to all that she had been a very attractive woman. But she was aging a little too quickly perhaps; and the fact that over the last two or three years she had almost invariably worn trousers did little to discourage the belief that her legs had succ.u.mbed to an unsightly cordage of varicose veins. If she were on sale in an Arab wife-market (in the cruel words of one of the younger dons) she would have pa.s.sed her best-before date several years earlier.

'I knew the Master many years ago - and his poor wife. Yes ... that was long ago,' mused the little priest.

Bradley was ready with the appropriate response of scholarly compa.s.sion.

'Times change, yes. Tempora mutantur: et nos mutamur in illis.' Tempora mutantur: et nos mutamur in illis.'

'I think,' said the priest, 'that the line should read: Tempora mutantur: Tempora mutantur: nos et nos et mutamur in illis. mutamur in illis. Otherwise the hexameter won't scan, will it?' Otherwise the hexameter won't scan, will it?'

'Of course it won't, sorry.'

The scout now politely requested dons - wives -partners - guests - to proceed to the Hall. And Jasper Bradley, eminent authority on the aorist subjunctive in Cla.s.sical Greek, walked out of the SCR more than slightly wounded.

Sir Clixby Bream brought up the rear as the room emptied, and lightly touched the bottom of Angela Storrs standing just in front of him.

Sotto voce he lied into her ear "You're looking ravis.h.i.+ng tonight. And I'll tell you something else - I'd far rather be in bed with you now than face another b.l.o.o.d.y Guest Night,' he lied into her ear "You're looking ravis.h.i.+ng tonight. And I'll tell you something else - I'd far rather be in bed with you now than face another b.l.o.o.d.y Guest Night,'

'So would I!' she lied, in a whisper. 'And I've got a big favour to ask of you, you, too.' too.'

'We'll have a word about it after the port.'

'Before the port, Clixby! You're usually blotto after it' the port, Clixby! You're usually blotto after it'

Sir Clixby banged his gavel, mumbled Benedictus benedicat, Benedictus benedicat, and the a.s.sembled company seated themselves, the tableplan having positioned Julian Storrs and Denis Cornford at diagonally opposite ends of the thick oak table, with their wives virtually opposite each other in the middle. and the a.s.sembled company seated themselves, the tableplan having positioned Julian Storrs and Denis Cornford at diagonally opposite ends of the thick oak table, with their wives virtually opposite each other in the middle.

'I love your suit!' lied Sh.e.l.ly Cornford, in a not unpleasing Yankee tw.a.n.g.

You look very nice, too,' lied Angela Storrs, smiling widely and showing such white and well-aligned teeth that no one could be in much doubt that her upper plate had been disproportionately expensive.

After which preliminary skirmish, each side observed a dignified truce, with neither a further word nor a further glance between them during the rest of the dinner.

At the head of the table, the little priest sat on the Master's right.

Just the two candidates, I hear?' he said quietly.

Just the two: Julian Storrs and Denis Cornford.'

'The usual shenanigans, I a.s.sume? The usual horse-trading? Clandestine cabals?'

'Oh no, nothing like that. We're all very civilized here.'

'How do you know that?'

'Well, you've only got to hear what people say - the way they say it' it'

The little priest pushed away his half-eaten guinea-fowl.

You know, Clixby, I once read that speech often gets in the way of genuine communication.'

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE.

Sat.u.r.day, 24 February There never was a scandalous tale without some foundation (Richard Brinsley Sheridan, The School for Scandal) The School for Scandal) WHILST THE G GUEST N NIGHT was still in progress, whilst still the port and Madeira were circulating in their time-honoured directions, an over-wearied Morse had decided to retire comparatively early to bed, where almost unprecedentedly he enjoyed a deep, unbroken slumber until 7.15 the following morning, when gladly would he have turned over and gone back to sleep. But he had much to do that day. He drank two cups of instant coffee (which he preferred to the genuine article); then another cup, this time with one slice of brown toast heavily spread with b.u.t.ter and Frank Cooper's Oxford Marmalade. was still in progress, whilst still the port and Madeira were circulating in their time-honoured directions, an over-wearied Morse had decided to retire comparatively early to bed, where almost unprecedentedly he enjoyed a deep, unbroken slumber until 7.15 the following morning, when gladly would he have turned over and gone back to sleep. But he had much to do that day. He drank two cups of instant coffee (which he preferred to the genuine article); then another cup, this time with one slice of brown toast heavily spread with b.u.t.ter and Frank Cooper's Oxford Marmalade.

By 8.45 he was in his office at Kidlington HQ, where he found a note on his desk: Please see Chief Sup. Strange a s a p The meeting, almost until the end, was an amiable enough affair, and Morse received a virtually uninterrupted hearing as he explained his latest thinking on the murder of Rachel James.

'Mm!' grunted Strange, resting his great jowls on his palms when Morse had finished. 'So it could could be a contract-killing that went c.o.c.keyed, you think? The victim gets pinpointed a bit too vaguely, and the killer shoots at the wrong pig-tail-' be a contract-killing that went c.o.c.keyed, you think? The victim gets pinpointed a bit too vaguely, and the killer shoots at the wrong pig-tail-'

'Pony-tail, sir.'

Yes - through the wrong window. Right?' Yes.'

'What about the motive? The key to this sort of mess is almost always the motive, motive, you know that.' you know that.'

You sound just like Sergeant Lewis, sir.'

Strange looked dubiously across the desk, as if a little uncertain as to whether he wanted wanted to sound just like Sergeant Lewis. to sound just like Sergeant Lewis.

'Well?'

'I agree with you. That's one of the reasons it could have been a case of mis-ident.i.ty. We couldn't really find any satisfactory motive for Rachel's murder anywhere. But if somebody wanted Owens Owens out of the way - well, I can think of a dozen possible motives.' out of the way - well, I can think of a dozen possible motives.'

'Because he's a news-hound, you mean?'

Morse nodded. 'Plenty of people in highish places who've got some sort of skeleton in the sideboard-'

'Cupboard.'

'Who'd go quite a long way to keep the, er, cupboard firmly locked.'

'Observed openly masturbating on the M40, you mean? Weekend away with the PA? By the way, you've you've got a pretty little la.s.s for a secretary, I see. Don't you ever l.u.s.t after her?' got a pretty little la.s.s for a secretary, I see. Don't you ever l.u.s.t after her?'

'I seem to have lost most of my l.u.s.t recently, sir.'

'We all do. It's called getting old.'

Strange lifted his large head, and eyed Morse over his half-lenses.

'Now about the case. It won't be easy, will it? You've no reason to think he's got a lot of stuff stashed under his mattress?'

'No ... no, I haven't'

"You'd no real reason for thinking he'd killed Rachel?' 'No ... no, I hadn't' 'So he's definitely out of the frame?' Morse considered the question awhile. "Fraid so, yes. I wish he weren't' 'So?'

'So I'll - we'll we'll think of some way of approaching things.' think of some way of approaching things.'

'Nothing irregular! You promise me that! We're just about getting over one or two unsavoury incidents in the Force, aren't we? And we're not going to start anything here. Is that clear, Morse?'

'To be fair, sir, I usually do go by the book.'

Strange pointed a thick finger.

'Well, usually's usually's not b.l.o.o.d.y good enough for me! You -go-by - the book, matey! Understood?' not b.l.o.o.d.y good enough for me! You -go-by - the book, matey! Understood?'

Morse walked heavily back to his office, where a refreshed-looking Lewis awaited him.

'Everything all right with the Super?'

'Oh, yes. I just told him about our latest thinking-'

'Your latest thinking.' latest thinking.'

'He understands the difficulties. He just doesn't want us to bend the rules of engagement too far, that's all.' 'So what's the plan?'

'Just nip and get me a drink first, will you?' 'Coffee?'

Morse pondered. 'I think I'll have a pint of natural, lead-free orange juice. Iced.'

'So what's the plan?' repeated Lewis, five minutes later.

'Not quite sure, really. But if I'm right, if it was was something like a contract-killing, it must have been arranged because Owens was threatening to expose somebody. And if he was-' something like a contract-killing, it must have been arranged because Owens was threatening to expose somebody. And if he was-'

'Lot of "if s", sir.'

'If he was, Lewis, he must have some evidence tucked away somewhere: vital evidence, d.a.m.ning evidence. It could be in the form of newspaper-cuttings or letters or photographs - anything. was, Lewis, he must have some evidence tucked away somewhere: vital evidence, d.a.m.ning evidence. It could be in the form of newspaper-cuttings or letters or photographs - anything. And And he must have been pretty sure about his facts if he's been trying to extort some money or some favours or whatever from any disclosures. Now, as I see it, he must have come across most of his evidence in the course of his career as a journalist. Wouldn't you think so? s.e.x scandals, that sort of thing.' he must have been pretty sure about his facts if he's been trying to extort some money or some favours or whatever from any disclosures. Now, as I see it, he must have come across most of his evidence in the course of his career as a journalist. Wouldn't you think so? s.e.x scandals, that sort of thing.'

'Like as not, I suppose.'

'So the plan's this. I want you, once you get the chance, to go and see the big white chief at the newspaper offices and get a look at all the confidential stuff on Owens. They're sure to have it in his appointment-file or somewhere: previous jobs, references, testimonials, CV, internal appraisals, comments-'

'Gossip?'

'Anything!'

'Is that what you mean by not bending the rules too much?'

'We're not not bending the rules - not too much. We're on a bending the rules - not too much. We're on a murder murder case, Lewis, remember that! Every member of the public's got a duty to help us in our enquiries.' case, Lewis, remember that! Every member of the public's got a duty to help us in our enquiries.'

'I just hope the editor agrees with you, that's all.'

'He does,' said Morse, a little shamefacedly. 'I rang him while you went to the canteen. He just wants us to do it privately, that's all, and confidentially. Owens only works alternate Sat.u.r.days, and this is one of his days off.'

'You don't want to do it yourself?'

'It's not that I don't want want to. But you're so much better at that sort of thing than I am.' to. But you're so much better at that sort of thing than I am.'

A semi-mollified Lewis elaborated: 'Then, if anything sticks out as important ... just follow it up ... and let you know?'

'Except for one thing, Lewis. Owens told me he worked for quite a while in Soho when he started. And if there's anything suspicious or interesting about that period of his life ...'

You'd like to do that bit of research yourself.'

'Exactly. I'm better at that sort of thing than you are.'

'What's your programme for today, then?'

'Quite a few things, really.'

'Such as?' Lewis looked up quizzically.

'Well, there's one h.e.l.luva lot of paperwork, for a start. And And filing. So you'd better stay and give me a hand for a while - after you've fetched me another orange juice. And please tell the girl not to dilute it quite so much this time. And just a cube or two more ice perhaps.' 'And then?' persisted Lewis. filing. So you'd better stay and give me a hand for a while - after you've fetched me another orange juice. And please tell the girl not to dilute it quite so much this time. And just a cube or two more ice perhaps.' 'And then?' persisted Lewis.