Death is Now My Neighbour

Lewis nodded at what he saw as an analysis not particularly profound. And Morse continued:

'Now the shooting of Owens took place inside the house - from a bit further away; but no glass this time, and a very clear target to aim at. And Owens is shot in the chest, not in the head. A modus operandi quite different from die first'

Lewis smiled. 'So we've got two moduses operandi.'

'Modi, Lewis! So it could be that we've two murderers. But that would seem on the face of it highly improbable, because it's not difficult to guess the reason for the difference... Is it?'

'Well, as I see things, sir, Owens was probably murdered by somebody he knew. He probably invited whoever it was in. Perhaps they'd arranged to meet anyway. Owens was dressed and-' Lewis stopped a moment 'He hadn't shaved though, had he?'

'He was the sort of fellow who always looked as if he needed a shave.'

'Perhaps we should have checked more closely.'

"You don't expect me to check diat sort of thing, do you? I'm a necrophobe - you've known me long enough, surely.'

'Well, that's it then, really. But Packet probably didn't know him.'

'Or her.'

'She must have been really scared if she heard a tap on the window that morning and went to open the blind-'

You're still assuming diat bodi murders were committed by the same person, Lewis."

'And you don't think so?'

Morse shrugged. 'Could have been two lovers or partners or husband and wife - or two completely separate people.'

Lewis was beginning to sound somewhat exasperated. "You know, I shall be much happier when we've got a bit more of the routine work done, sir. It's all been a bit ad hoc so far, hasn't it?' (Morse raised his eyebrows at die Latinism.) 'Can't we leave a few of the ideas until we've given ourselves a chance to check everything a bit?'

'Lewis! You are preaching to the converted. That's exacdy what we've got to do. Go back to die beginning. "In our beginning is our end," somebody said - Eliot, wasn't it? Or is it "In our end is our beginning"?'

'Where do you suggest we begin then, sir?'

Morse considered the question.

'What about you fetching me a cup of coffee? No sugar.'

CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

Tuesday, 5 March

The overworked man who agrees to any division of labour always gets the worst share

(Hungarian proverb)

'WHERE DO you suggest we begin then?' repeated Lewis, as Morse distastefully sipped his unsweetened coffee.

'When we do start again, we'll probably find that we've been looking at things from the wrong angle. We've been assuming - / have, anyway - that it was Owens who was pulling all the strings. As a journalist, he'd often been in a privileged position with regard to a few juicy stories; and as a man he pretty clearly gloried in the hold he could have on other people: blackmail. And from what we learned, I thought it was likely that the two candidates for the Mastership at Lonsdale were being blackmailed; I thought that they'd have as good a motive, certainly Storrs, as anybody for wishing Owens out of the way. But I never dreamed that Owens was in danger of being murdered, as you know...

'There's just the one trouble about following up that particular hypothesis though, isn't there? It's now clear

that neither of those two, neither Storrs nor Comford -nor their wives for that matter - could have been responsible for both murders. And increasingly unlikely, perhaps, that any of them could have been responsible even for one of the murders. So where does this all leave us? It's a bit like a crossword clue you sometimes get stuck with. You think one bit of the clue's the definition, and the other bit's a build-up of the letters. Then suddenly you realize you've got things the wrong way round. And perhaps I'm reading the clue the wrong way round here, Lewis. What if someone was blackmailing Owens - the exact opposite of our hypothesis? What if -we've spoken about it before - what if Rachel James came to discover something that would upset his carefully loaded apple-cart? And blackmailed him?'

'Trying to climb aboard the gravy-train herself?'

'Exactly. Money! You said right at the start that we needed a motive for Rachel's murder; and I suspect she'd somehow got to know about his own blackmailing activities and was threatening to expose him.'

Lewis was looking decidedly impatient

'Sir! Could we please get along to Owens' office first, and get a few simple facts established?'

'Just what I was about to suggest We shall have to get down there and find out everything we can about him. See the editor, the sub-editor, his colleagues, that personnel fellow - especially him! Go through his desk and his drawers. Get hold of his original application, if we can. Try to learn something about his men-friends, his girlfriends, his enemies, his habits, what he liked to eat and drink, his salary, any clubs he belonged to, his political leanings -'

*We know he voted Conservative, sir.'

' - the newspaper he took, where he usually parked his car, what his job prospects were - yes, plenty to be going on with there.'

'Quite a list Good job diere's two of us, sir.'

'Pardon?'

'Hefty agenda - that's all I'm saying.'

'Not all that much really. Far easier than it sounds. And if you get off straightaway ...' Morse looked at his wristwatch: 10.45 a-m-

Lewis frowned. "You mean you're not joining me?'

'Not today, no.'

'But you just said-'

'One or two important things I've got to do after lunch.'

'Such as?'

'Well, to be truthful, I've been told to take things a bit more gendy. And I suppose I'd better take a bit of notice of my medical advisers.'

'Of course.'

'Don't get me wrong, mind! I'm feeling fine. But I think a little siesta this afternoon ...'

'Siesta? That's what they have in Spain in the middle of die summer when the temperature's up in the nineties - but we're in England in die middle of winter and it's freezing outside.'

Morse looked down at his desk, a litde sheepishly, and Lewis knew that he was lying.

'Come on, sir! It's somediing to do with diat invite you had, isn't it? Deborah Crawford?'

'In a way.'

'Why are you being so secretive about it? You wouldn't tell me yesterday either.'

'Only because it needs a bit more thinking about, that's all.'

' "You and me together" - isn't that what you said?'

Morse fingered the still-cellophaned cigarettes, almost desperately.

'Si' down then, Lewis.'

CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

It is the nature of an hypothesis, when once a man has conceived it, that it assimilates every thing to itself as proper nourishment, and, from the first moment of your begetting it, it generally grows the stronger by every thing you see, hear, read, or understand

(Laurence Sterne, Tristram Shandy)

'IT WASN'T DEBORAH Crawford, Lewis - it was her initials, "DC". When we found that list in the manila file, I jumped the gun. I automatically assumed that "JS" was Julian Storrs - I think I was right about that - and I assumed that "DC" was Denis Comford - and I think I was wrong about that. As things have turned out I don't believe Owens ever knew Cornford at all, or his missus, for that matter. But he knew another "DC": the woman at Number i Bloxham Close - Adele Beatrice Cecil - the ABC lass Owens knew well enough to call by her nickname, "Delia". "DC". And the more I think about her, the more attractive a proposition I find it'