Death is Now My Neighbour

"You are sure, dien.'

'Unless she's got - unless she had a twin sister."

'Sure about the time, too? That's very important'

She nodded. T'd just watched the news headlines on BBCi - I like to do that Then I turned the telly off. I might have filled the ketde again ... but, like I say, it was only a few minutes past seven. Five past, at die outside.'

It therefore seemed virtually certain diat diere was a time-span of no more than half an hour during which the murder had occurred: between 7.05 a.m., when Mrs Jacobs had seen her neighbour opposite, and 7.35 a.m. Or so, when Mrs Norris had first noticed die hole in die window. It was unusual - very unusual - for such exactitude to be established at so early a stage in a murder enquiry; and diere would be litde need in tiiis case for die police to be dependent upon (what Morse always called) diose prevaricating padiologists ...

DEATH IS NOW MY NEIGHBOUR

'About quarter past seven,' answered the prevaricating Lewis.

"You're quite sure?' It was exactly the same question Lewis himself had asked.

'No, not sure at all. Next question?'

'Why didn't everybody hear the shot?' (The same young, ginger-headed reporter.)

'Silencer, perhaps?'

"There'd be the sound of breaking glass surely?' (A logically minded man from the Oxford Star.)

A series of hand gestures and silent lip-movements from the TV crew urged Lewis not to look direcdy into the camera.

Lewis nodded. "Yes. In fact several of die neighbours diink diey heard somediing - two of diem certainly did. But it could have been lots of diings, couldn't it?'

'Such as?' (The importunate ginger-knob again.)

Lewis shrugged. 'Could have been die milkman dropping a botde-?'

'No broken glass here, diough, Sergeant.'

'Car backfiring? We don't know.'

'Does what die neighbours heard fit in widi die time all right'' (The TV interviewer widi his fluffy cylindrical microphone.)

'Pretty well, yes.'

The senior reporter from die Oxford Mail had hidierto held his peace. But now he asked a curious question, if it was a question:

'Not die two immediate neighbours, were they?'

Lewis looked at die man widi some interest

'Why do you say that''

COLIN DEXTER

'Well, the woman who lives there' (a finger pointed to Number 19) 'she was probably still asleep at the time, and she's stone-deaf without her hearing-aid.'

'Really?'

'And the man who lives there' (a finger pointed to Number 15) 'he'd already left for work.'

Lewis frowned. 'Can you tell me how you happen to know all this, sir?'

'No problem,' replied Geoffrey Owens. 'You see, Sergeant, /live at Number 15.'

64

CHAPTER TEN

Where lovers lie with ardent glow, Where fondly each forever hears The creaking of the bed below - Above, the music of the spheres (Viscount Mumbles, 1797-1821)

WHEN LEWIS RETURNED from his encounter with the media, Morse was almost ready to leave the murder-house. The morning had moved towards noon, and he knew that he might be thinking a litde more clearly if he were drinking a litde - or at least be starting to think when he started to drink.

'Is there a real-ale pub somewhere near?' Lewis, pleasandy gratified with his handling of die Press and TV, was emboldened to sound a note of caution.

'Doesn't do your liver much good - all tiiis drinking.' Surprisingly Morse appeared to accept die reminder widi modest grace.

'I'm sure you're i ight; but my medical advisers have warned me it may veil be unwise to give up alcohol at my age.'

COLIN DEXTER

Lewis was not impressed, for he had heard the same words - exactly the same words - on several previous occasions.

"You've had a good look around, sir?'

'Not really. I know I always find the important things. But I want you to have a look around. You usually manage to find the unimportant things - and often diey're the things that really matter in the end.'

Lewis made little attempt to disguise his pleasure, and straightway relented.

'We could go up to the Boat atThrupp?'

'Excellent.'

"You don't want to stay here any longer?'

'No. The SOCOs'll be another couple of hours yet'

'You don't want to see ... her again?'

Morse shook his head. 'I know what she looks like -looked like.' He picked up two coloured photographs and one postcard, and made towards the front door, handing over the keys of the maroon Jaguar to Lewis. 'You'd better drive - if you promise to stick to the orange juice.'

Once on their way, Lewis reported the extraordinarily strange coincidence of the press-man, Owens, living next-door to the murdered woman. But Morse, who always looked upon any coincidence in life as the norm rather than the exception, was more anxious to set forth the firm details he had himself now gleaned about Ms Rachel James, for there could now be no real doubt of her identity.

'Twenty-nine. Single. No offspring. Worked as a free-

66

DEATH IS NOW MY NEIGHBOUR

lance physiotherapist at a place in the Banbury Road. CV says she went to school at Torquay Comprehensive; left there in 1984 with a clutch of competent O-levels, three A-levels - two Bs, in Biology and Geography, and an E in Media Studies.'

'Must have been fairly bright'

'What do you mean? You need to be a moron to get an E in Media Studies,' asserted Morse, who had never seen so much as a page of any Media Studies syllabus, let alone a question paper.

He continued:

'Parents, as you know, still alive, on their way here-'

"You'll want me to see them?'

'Well, you are good at that sort of thing, aren't you? And if the mother's like most women she'll probably smell the beer as soon as I open the door.'

'Good reason for you to join me on the orange juice.'

Morse ignored the suggestion. 'She bought the property there just over four years ago for £65,000 and the value's been felling ever since by the look of things, so the poor lass is one of those figuring in the negative equity statistics; took out a mortgage of £55,000 - probably Mum and Dad gave her the other £10,000; and the saleable value of Number 17 is now £40,000, at the most.'

'Bought at the wrong time, sir. But some people were a bit irresponsible, don't you think?'

'I'm not an economist, as you know, Lewis. But I'll tell you what would have helped her. Helped so many in her boots.'

'A win on the National Lottery?'

'Wouldn't help many, that, would it? No. What she

67

COLIN DEXTER

could have done with is a healthy dose of inflation. It's a good thing - inflation - you know. Especially for people who've got nothing to start with. One of the best things that happened to some of us. One year I remember I had three jumps in salary.'

'Not many would agree with you on that, though, would they? Conservative and Labour both agree about inflation.'

'Ah! Messrs Bull and Thomas, you mean?'

"You noticed the stickers?'

'I notice most things. It's just that some of them don't register - not immediately.'

'What'll you have, sir?'

'Lew-is! We've known each other long enough, surely.'

As Morse tasted the hostelry's Best Bitter, he passed over a photograph of Rachel James.

'Best one of her I could find.'

Lewis looked down at the young woman.

'Real good-looker,' he said softly.

Morse nodded. 'I bet she'd have set a few hearts all a-flutter.'

'Including yours, sir?'

Morse drank deeply on his beer before replying. 'She'd probably have a good few boyfriends, that's all I'm suggesting. As for my own potential susceptibility, that's beside the point.'

'Of course.' Lewis smiled good-naturedly. 'What else have we got?'