Inspector Morse 11 The Daughters of Cain

Then there had been (only that very evening) a second oblong, prompting memory further, when he had looked down at the pristine strawberry-red in the lounge there, and when Mrs. Lewis had spoken of the unfading linings in her cupboards.

And then, working backwards (or was it forwards?) there had been the visit to the Pitt Rivers Museum, when the Ad-ministrator had pointed with pride to the fine quality of the hessian lining for her cabinet-exhibits, with its optimistic guarantee of Tithonian immortality.

Then again, a much more distant memory from his child-hood of a case of cutlery, a family heirloom, where over the years each knife, each fork, each spoon, had left its own imprint, its own silhouette, on the blue plush-lining of the case. Things always left their impressions, did they not? Or did they?

Perhaps in the Pitt Rivers cabinets, in those slightly som-bre, sunless galleries, the objects displayed there the arte-facts, the relics from the past--were leaving only very faint impressions, like the utensils in Mrs. Lewis's kitchen-cupboards.

No impressions at all, possibly...

Then, and above all, the discrepancy between the pathol-ogist's report on the knife used to murder Mc Clure, and the statement given by the Raysons about the knife found in their own front garden: the "blade not really sharp," in the former;, the "blade in no immediate need of sharpening," in the lat. tter. Not a big discrepancy, perhaps; but a hugely sig~ nifi Cahnt one--and one which should never, never have passectd unnoticed.

¥es, all the constituents were there: separate, though, and unsyn'nthesized--waiting for a catalyst.

Le XCwis!

Lebwis the Catalyst.

Fortr it was Lewis who had returned from his P.M. inves-tigati%ons with the information that one of the small keys foun Cltzl in Brooks's pocket fitted a wall-safe in the museum; in vh'hich, in turn, were to be found row upon row of other key S,, including the key to Cabinet 52. It was Lewis, too, who so innocently had asserted, as he picked up a knife with which to eat his meal, that his own fingerprints would soon be found thereon...

At,nd whither had such ratiocination finally led the Chief Inspector, as, like Abraham, he had made his way forth from · his tent in the desert knowing not whither he went? To at strangest of all conclusions: that on Wednesday, September 7, from Cabinet 52 in the Pitt Rivers Museum in OCrd nothing whatsoever had been stolen.

Chapter Sixty-five ehold, I shew you a mystery 5, v.51)

(St. Pnu[, I Corinthians, ch .1 %ouncil of war was called in Caesar's tent two days later, Sunday, October 2, with three other officers joining Chiief Superintendent Strange in the latter's Kidlington HQ office at 10 A.M.: Chief Inspector Morse, Chief Inspector?hillotson, and Sergeant Lewis. Morse, invited to put a case for a dramatic intensification of enquiries, for a series of warrants, and for a small cohort of forensic specialists, did so with complete conviction.

He knew now (or so he claimed) what had been the cir-cumstanees of each of the murders, those of Mc Clure and Brooks; and he would, with his colleagues' permission, give an account of those circumstances, not seeking to dwell on motives (not for the present) but on methods--on modi operandi.

Strange now listened, occasionally nodding, occasionally lifting his eyebrows in apparent incredulity, to the burden of Morse's reconstructions.

Mc Clure lived on a staircase where Brooks was the scout. The latter had gained access to drugs and became a supplier to several undergraduates, one of whom, Matthew Rodway, had become very friendly with Mc Clure--probably not a homosexual relationship, though---before committing sui-cide in tragic and semi-suspicious circumstances. As a re-salt of this, Mc Clure had insisted that Brooks resign from his job; but agreed that he, Mc Clure, would not report the matter to the Dean, and would even provide a job-testimonial, provided that Brooks foreswore his dealings in drugs.

Feelings between the two men were bitter.

Things settled down, though.

Then it came to Mc Clure's notice that Brooks had not finished with his drag-dealing after all; that some of the junkies were still in touch with him. A furious Mc Clure threatened disclosure to Brooks's new employers and to the police, and a meeting between the two was arranged (or not awanged--how could one know?). Certain it was, however, that Brooks went to visit Mc Clure. And murdered him.

On the way home, on his bicycle, Brooks suddenly be-came aware that he was seriously ill. He managed to get as far as St. Giles's, but could get no further. He left his bicy-cle outside St. Mary Mags, without even bothering to lock it, perhaps, and covering himself as best he could, got a taxi from the rank there up to East Oxford-and very soon got an ambulance up to the JR2, minus the bloodstained clothing which his wife disposed of.