Inspector Morse 11 The Daughters of Cain

Morse appeared a little pained as Lewis continued: "... she couldn't have done it. And Mrs. Brooks couldn't have done it either, could she? She's got the best motive of any of them, and she'd probably have the nerve as well. But she couldn't have planned it all, surely, even if somehow she bad the opportunity--at night, say, after she got back from Stratford. I just don't see it."

"Nor do I," repeated Morse, grimacing as he sipped an-other mouthful of weak, luke-warm coffee.

"So unless we're looking in completely the wrong direction, sir, that only leaves..."

But Morse was only half listening. "Unless," Lewis had just said... the same word the Warden had used the pre-vious day when he'd been talking of the red-and-white striped barrier. In Morse's mind there'd earlier been a log-ical barrier to his hypothesis that Brooks's body must have been taken to the Thames in some sort of vehicle--as well as that literal barrier. But the Warden had merely lifted that second barrier, hadn't he? Just physically lifted it out of the way.

So what if he, Morse, were now to lift that earlier barrier, too?

"Lewis! Get the car, and nip along and have a word with the headmaster of the Proctor Memorial. Tell him we'd like to see Mrs. Stevens again. We can either go round to her house or, if she prefers, she can come here."

"Important, is it, sir?"

"Oh, yes," said Morse. "And while you're at it, you can drop me off at the path lab. I want another quick word with the lovely Laura."

Chapter Fifty-eight

Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen (Hebrews, ch .11, v .1)

Coming out of her lab to greet Morse, Dr. Laura Hobso appeared incongruously contented with her work. Sb pointed to the door behind her.

"You'd better not go in there, Chief Inspector. Not fi the minute. We've nearly finished, though--the main bit anyway."

"Anything interesting?"

"Do you call stomach contents interesting?"

"No."

"Looks as if they've got some vague prints all righ though--on the knife. I'll keep my fingers crossed for yo We're all hoping, you know that."

"Thank you." Morse hesitated. "It may sound a bit fa fetched I know, but..."

"Yes?"

"The knife--I'm doing a little bit of hoping myself-knife used to murder Mc Clure was very similar to"--Mors nodded towards the main lab---"to the knife that was stole from the Pitt Rivers."

"Yes, I knew that."

"What I was wondering is this. Is there any possibility-any possibility at all--that Brooks was murdered with a other knife---one of the same type, one with the same so of blade--then for the knife you've got in there--the on Cotin Ixtr with the possible prints on it--to be stuck in him.., after-wards?" Laura Hobson looked at him curiously.

"Have two knives, you mean? Stick one in him, take it out, then stick the other in?"

Morse looked uneasy, yet there was still some flicker of hope in his face. "When I said 'afterwards,' I meant, well, a few hours later---a day even.`?"

With a sad smile, she shook her head. "No chance. Un-less your murderer's got the luck of the devil and the skill of a brain-surgeon--"

"Or a boy with a model-aeroplane kit.'?"

"---you'd have some clear external evidence of the two incisions--and don't forget he was stabbed through his clothes."

"And there aren't...?"

"No. No signs at all. Besides that, though, you'd have all the internal evidence: the two separate termini of the knife points; two distinct sets of lacerations on either side of "

"I see, yes," mumbled Morse.

"I don't know whether you do, though. Look! Let me ex-plain. Whenever you have a knife-wound--"

"Please, not!" said Morse. "I believe all you say. It's just that I've never been able to follow all these physiological labellings. They didn't teach us any of that stuff at school."

"I know," said Laura quietly. "You did Greek instead.

You told me once, remember, in our.., in our earlier days, Chief Inspector.`?"

Feeling more than a little embarrassed, Morse avoided her eyes.

"How would it have helped, anyway.`?" continued Laura, in a more business-like tone.

"Well, I've been assuming all along that the theft of the knife from the Pitt Rivers was a blind: a blind to establish an alibi, or alibis; to try to establish the fact that Brooks wasn't murdered until after the knife was stolen."

She nodded, appreciating the point immediately. "You mean, if he'd been murdered on a particular day with one knife, and then, the day after, a second knife was stolen; and if the f Lrst knife was subsequently removed from the body, and the second knife inserted into the wound--pet like the police like you, could well have been misled al the time of death."

"That's a splendidly constructed sentence," said "Waste of breath, though, really. I wouldn't have misled."

"You're sure?"

"Ninety4nine per cent sure."

"Could you just rule out the other one per cent--for Please?"

"Waste of time. But I will, yes, if that's what you "I'm very grateful."

"Don't you want to see the contents of his pockets? clothes?"

"I suppose I ought to, yes."