Inspector Morse 11 The Daughters of Cain

"Not much doubt he's been murdered, though--unless he died, then somebody stuck a knife in him, then wrapped him all up and put him in the river here."

"Seems unlikely," conceded Morse.

Dr. Hobson was packing up her equipment when Morse spoke again: "You'll be sure not to touch the knife until--?"

"You've not got much faith in some of your colleagues, have you?"

She was an attractive young woman; and when first she had taken over from the sadly missed Max, Morse had felt he could almost have fallen a little in love with her. But now he dreamed of her no longer.

Morse had taken the sensible (almost unprecedented) pre-caution of refraining from a few pints of beer on a Sunday lunchtime; and at 3:15 t,.M. he and Lewis stood in the path lab beside the prone body of Edward Brooks, the plastic bags in which he had been inserted lying folded neatly at his feet, like the linen wraps at the Resurrection. Apart from Dr. Hobson herself, two further forensic assistants and a fingerprint expert stood quite cheerfully around the body, 'in which the handle of a broad knife stood up straight.

Yet it was not the handle itself, so carefully dusted now with fingerprint-powder, which had riveted Morse's attention.

It was the label attached to the side of the handle; a label whose lettering, though washed and smudged by the waters of the Thames, was still partially legible on its right-hand side: /brthern ; ,[to Bishop May amount chief anika yr. MIss to cent Africa) Cabinet: 52 "I just do not believe this," whispered Morse slowly. "Pardon, sir?"

But Morse was not listening. He touched Laura Hobson lightly on the shoulder of her starched white coat, and for the second time that day asked for the quickest way to the nearest Gents.

Chapter Fifty-seven

Karl Popper teaches that knowinge is advanced by the positing and testing of hypotheses. Countless hypotheses, I believe, are being tested at once ih the unconscious mind; only the winning shortlist is handext to our consciousness (MATm pounds P^mus, The Times, March 7, 1994)

The following day, Monday, September 26, both Morse and Lewis arrived fairly early, just after 7 ^.M., at Thames Val ley HQ.

Morse himself had slept poofi3,' his eyeballs ceaselessly circling in their sockets throught)ut the night as the dra-matic new development in the ease had gradually estab-lished itself into the pattern of his thinking; for in truth he had been astonished at the discovery that Brooks had been murdered after the theft of the Rhodesian knife; murdered in fact by the Rhodesian knife.

As he had hitherto analysed the case, assessing motive and opportunity and means, Morse had succeeded in con-vincing himself that two or perhal)s three persons, acting to some degree in concert, had probably been responsible for Brooks's murder. Each of the three (as Morse saw things) would have regarded the death of Brooks, though for slightly different reasons, as of eonsiderable benefit to the human race.

Three suspects.

Three women: the superficially gentle Brenda Brooks, who had suffered sorely in the o1 of the neglected and maltreated wife; the enigmatic IVlrs. Stevens, who had de veloped a strangely strong bond between herself and her cleaning-lady; and the step-daughter, Eleanor Smith, who had left home in her mid-teens, abused (how could Morse know?) mentally, or verbally, or physically, or sexually even....

Women set apart from the rest of their kind by the sign of the murderer--by the mark of Cain.

A confusing figuration of "if's" had permutated itself in Morse's restless brain that previous night, filtering down to exactly the same shortlist as before, since the Final Arbiter had handed to Morse the same three envelopes. In the first, as indeed in the second, the brief verdict was typed out in black letters: "Not Guilty"; but in the third, Morse had read the even briefer verdict, typed out here in red capitals: "GUILTY." And the name on the front of the third envelope was--Eleanor Smith.

For almost an hour, Morse and Lewis had spoken together that morning: spoken of thoughts, ideas, hypotheses. And when he returned from the canteen with two cups of coffee at 8 A.M., Lewis stated, starkly and incontrovertibly, the simple truth they both had to face: "You know, I just don't see--I just can't see--how · Brenda Brooks, or this Mrs. Stevens--how either of them could have done it. We've not exactly had a video-camera on them since the knife was stolen--but not far off. All right, they'd got enough motive. But I just don't see when they had the opportunity."

"Nor do I," said Morse quietly. And Lewis was encour to continue.

"I know what you mean about Mrs. Stevens, sir. And I agree. There's somebody pretty clever behind all this, and she's the only one of the three who's got the brains to have thought it all out. But as I say...'