Inspector Morse 13 The Remorseful Day

cocked it all up before and you're lucky bastards to have another chance.

(Line suddenly dead.  ) Morse looked up to find himself the object of

Strange's steady gaze.

"It's incompetCT<, sir, with an " e"."

"Thank you very much!"

"And most people put a " k" on " knickers"."

Strange smiled grimly.

"And Yvonne Harrison put an embargo on knickers, however you spell 'em!"

He struggled to his feet.

"My office Monday morning first thing!"

"Eight o'clock?"

"Nine-thirty?"

"Nine-thirty."

"Now get back to your Schubert though I'm surprised you weren't listening to

Wagner.  Just the job, The Ring, for a long holiday, you know.  Especially

the Sold recording."

Morse watched his visitor waddling somewhat unsteadily towards the police car

parked confidently in the

"Resident's Only' parking area.

(Yes!  Morse had mentioned the apostrophe to the Chairman of the Residents'

Welfare Committee.  ) He closed the front door and for a few moments stood

there motionless, acknowledging with a series of almost imperceptible nods

the simple truth about the latest encounter between two men who knew each

other well, both for good and ill: Game, Set, Match, to Strange.

Or was it?

For there was something about what he had just learned, something he had not

yet even begun to analyse, that was perplexing him slightly.

The following Sunday was a pleasant summer's day; and along with

three-quarters of the population of Hampshire, Morse decided to go down to

Bournemouth.  It took him over an hour to park the Jaguar; and it was a

further half-hour before he reached the sea front where car-loads and

bus-loads of formidable families were negotiating rights to a couple of

square me tres of Lebensraum.  But moving away from the ice cream emporia,

Morse found progressively fewer and fewer day-trippers as he walked towards

the further reaches of the shore-line.  He'd always told himself he enjoyed

the changing moods of Homer's deep-sounding sea.  And he did so now.

Soon, he found himself standing alongside the slowly lap- ping water,

debating with himself whether the tide was just coming in or just going out,

and staring down at the glass-like circular configuration of a jellyfish.

"Is it dead?"

Until she spoke, Morse had been unaware of the auburn- haired young woman who

now stood beside him, almost wearing a bikini.

"I don't know.  But in the absence of anything better to do, I'm going to

stand here till the tide comes in and find out."

"But the tide's going out, surely?"

Morse nodded somewhat wistfully.

"You may be right."

"Poor jellyfish!"

"Mm!"  Morse looked down again at the apparently doomed, transparent creature

at his feet: "How very sad to be a jellyfish!"

He'd sounded a comparatively interesting man, and the woman would have liked

to stay there awhile.  But she forced herself to forget the intensely blue

eyes which momentarily had held her own; and walked away without a further

word, for she felt a sudden, slight suspicion concerning the sanity of the

man who stood there staring at the ground.

25

chapter five In the country of the blind, the one-eyed man is King

(Afghan proverb) it was on Tuesday the 14th, the day before Strange's visit

to Morse, that Lewis had presented himself at the Chief Superintendent office

in Thames Valley Police HQ, in punctual obedience to the internal phone call.

"Something for you, Lewis.  Remember the Lower Swinstead murder?"

"Well, vaguely, yes.  And I've seen the bits in the paper, you know, about

the calls.  I was never really on the case myself though.  We were on another

' " Well, you're on it now from next Monday morning, that is once Morse gets

back from Bermuda.  "

"He hasn't left Oxford, has he?"

"Joke, Lewis."  Strange beamed with bonhomie, set ding his chin into his

others.

"The Chief Inspector's agreed?"

"Not much option, had he?  And you enjoy working with the old sod.  I know

you do."

"Not always."

"Well, he always enjoys working with you."

A strangely gratified Lewis made no reply.

"So?"

"Well, if it's OK with Morse .  .  ."

"Which it is."

"I'll give him a ring."

"No, you won't.  He's tired, isn't he?  Needs a rest.  Give him a bit of time

to himself you know, crosswords, booze ..."

"Wagner, sir.  Don't forget his precious Wagner.  He's just bought another

recording of that Ring Cycle stuff, so he told me."

"Which recording's that?"

"Conductor called

"Sholty" , I think.  "

"Mm .  .  ."  Strange pointed to three bulging green box-files stacked on the

side of his desk.

"Little bit of reading there.  All right?

Chance for you to get a few moves ahead of Morse.  "

Lewis got to his feet, picked up the files, and held them awkwardly in front

of him, his chin clamping the top one firm.

"I've never been even one move in front of him, sir."

"No?  Don't you under-estimate yourself, Lewis!  Let others do it for you."

Lewis managed a good-natured grin.

"Not many people manage to get a move ahead of Morse."

"Oh, really?  Just a minute!  Let me hold the door for you ..  .  And you're

not quite right about what you just said, you know.  There are one or two

people who just occasionally manage it."