Colin Dexter
Death Is Now My Neighbour
For
Joan Templeton
with gratitude
Quickly, bring me a beaker of wine,
so that I may wet my mind and say
something clever.
Prolegomenon
January 1996
A decided boon, therefore, are any multiple-choice items for those pupils in our classrooms who are either inured to idleness, or guilty of willful ignorance. Such pupils, if simply and appropriately instructed, have only to plump for the same answer on each occasion — let us say, choice (a) from choices (a) (b) (c) (d) — in order to achieve a reasonably regular score of some 25% of the total marks available. This is a wholly satisfactory return for academic incompetence.
“What time do you call this, Lewis?”
“The missus’s fault. Not like her to be late with the breakfast.”
Morse made no answer as he stared down at the one remaining unsolved clue:
“Stand for soldiers — 5–4?”
Lewis took the chair opposite his chief and sat waiting for some considerable while, leafing through a magazine.
“Stuck, sir?” he asked finally.
“If I was — if I were — I doubt I’d get much help from you.”
“You never know,” suggested Lewis good-naturedly. “Perhaps—”
“Ah!” burst out Morse triumphantly, as he wrote in TOASTRACK. He folded The Times away and beamed across at his sergeant.
“You — are — a — genius, Lewis.”
“So you’ve often told me, sir.”
“And I bet you had a boiled egg for breakfast — with soldiers. Am I right?”
“What’s that got—?”
“What are you reading there?”
Lewis held up the title page of his magazine.
“Lew-is! There are more important things in life than the Thames Valley Police Gazette.”
“Just thought you might be interested in one of the articles here...”
Morse rose to the bait. “Such as?”
“There’s a sort of test — you know, see how many points you can score: ARE YOU REALLY WISE AND CULTURED?”
“Very doubtful in your case, I should think.”
“You reckon you could do better than I did?”
“Quite certain of it.”
Lewis grinned. “Quite certain, sir?”
“Absolutely.”
“Want to have a go, then?” Lewis’s mouth betrayed gentle amusement as Morse shrugged his indifference.
“Multiple-choice questions — you know all about—?”
“Get on with it!”
“All you’ve got to do is imagine the world’s going to end in exactly one week’s time, okay? Then you’ve got to answer five questions, as honestly as you can.”
“And you’ve already answered these questions yourself?”
Lewis nodded.
“Well, if you can answer them... Fire away!”
Lewis read aloud from the article:
Question One
Given the choice of only four CDs or cassettes, which one of the following would you be likely to play at least once?
(a) A Beatles album
(b) Fauré’s Requiem
(c) An Evening with Victor Borge
(d) The complete overtures to Wagner’s operas
With a swift flourish, Morse wrote down a letter.
Question Two
Which of these videos would you want to watch?
(a) Casablanca (the film)
(b) England’s World Cup victory (1966)
(c) Copenhagen Red-Hot Sex (2 hours)
(d) The Habitat of the Kingfisher (RSPB)
A second swift flourish from Morse.
Question Three
With which of the following women would you wish to spend some, if not all, of your surviving hours?
(a) Lady Thatcher
(b) Kim Basinger
(c) Mother Teresa
(d) Princess Diana
A third swift flourish.
Question Four
If you could gladden your final days with one of the following, which would it be?
(a) Two dozen bottles of vintage champagne
(b) Five hundred cigarettes
(c) A large bottle of tranquilizers
(d) A barrel of real ale
Flourish number four, and the candidate (confident of imminent success, it appeared) sat back in the black-leather armchair.
Question Five
Which of the following would you read during this period?
(a) Cervantes’ Don Quixote
(b) Dante’s The Divine Comedy
(c) A bound volume of Private Eye (1995)
(d) Homer’s Iliad
This time Morse hesitated some while before writing on the pad in front of him. “You did the test yourself, you say?”
Lewis nodded. “Victor Borge; the football; Princess Diana; the champagne; and Private Eye. Just hope Princess Di likes Champers, that’s all.”
“There must be worse ways of spending your last week on earth,” admitted Morse.
“I didn’t do so well, though — not on the marking. I’m not up there among the cultured and the wise, I’m afraid.”
“Did you expect to be?”
“Wouldn’t you?”
“Of course.”
“Let’s hear what you picked, then.”
“My preferences, Lewis,” Morse articulated his words with precision, “were as follows: (b); (c); (b); (c); none of them.”
Turning to the back page, Lewis reminded himself of the answers putatively adjudged to be correct.
“I don’t believe it,” he whispered to himself. Then, to Morse: “You scored the maximum!”
“Are you surprised?”
Lewis shook his head in mild bewilderment.
“You chose, what, the Requiem?”
“Well?”
“But you’ve never believed in all that religious stuff.”
“It’s important if it’s true, though, isn’t it? Let’s just say it’s a bit like an insurance policy. A beautiful work, anyway.”
“Says here: ‘Score four marks for (b). Sufficient recommendation that it was chosen by three of the last four Popes for their funerals.’ ”
Morse lifted his eyebrows. “You didn’t know that?”
Lewis ignored the question and continued:
“Then you chose the sex video!”
“Well, it was either that or the kingfisher. I’ve already seen Casablanca a couple of times — and no one’s ever going to make me watch a football match again.”
“But I mean, a sex video...”
Morse, however, was clearly unimpressed by such obvious disapprobation. “It’d be the choice of those three Popes as well, like as not.”
“But it all gets — well, it gets so plain boring after a while.”