The Secret of Annexe 3

'Exactly what happened then, we don't know - and we may never know. But very soon the Bowmans are playing out the rest of the evening as best they can - pretending to eat, pretending to be lovey-dovey with each other, pretending to enjoy the festivities. There's little enough chance of them being recognized, anyway: she's hiding behind her yashmak, and he's hiding behind a coat of dark greasepaint. But they both want to be seen going into the annexe after the party's over, and in fact Tom Bowman performs his role with a bit of panache. He waits for the two other women he knows are lodged in the annexe, throws an arm across their shoulders - incidentally ruining their coats with his greasy hands - and gives the impression to all and sundry that he's about to hit the hay. As it happens, Binyon was bringing up the rear - pretty close behind them. But the lock on the side door is only a Yale; and after Binyon had made sure all was well, the Bowmans slipped out quietly into the winter's night. They went down and got their car from the Westgate - or wherever it was parked - and Tom Bowman dropped Margaret back to Charlbury Drive, where she'd left the lights on anyway so that the neighbours would assume she was celebrating the New Year. And then Bowman himself took off into the night somewhere so that if ever the need arose he could establish an alibi for himself up in Inverness or wherever he found himself the next morning, leaving Margaret the pre-planned note about his fictitious girlfriend. And that's about it, Lewis! That's about what happened, as far as I can make out.'

Lewis himself had listened with great interest, and without interruption, to what Morse had said. And although, apart from the time of the murder, it wasn't a particularly startling analysis, it was just the sort of self-consistent hypothesis that Lewis had come to expect from the chief inspector, bringing together, as it did, into one coherent scheme all the apparently inconsistent clues and puzzling testimony. But there were one or two weaknesses in Morse's argument: at least as Lewis saw things.

'You said they spent the afternoon in bed, sir. But we didn't, to be honest, find much sign of anything like that, did we?'

'Perhaps they performed on the floor - I don't know. I was just telling you what probably happened.'

'What about the maid, sir - Mandy, wasn't it? Doesn't someone usually come along about seven o'clock or so and turn down the counterpane —'

'Counterpane? Lewis! You're still living in the nineteenth century. And this wasn't the Waldorf Astoria, you know.'

'Bit of a risk, though, sir - somebody coming in and finding—'

'They were short-staffed, Lewis-you know that.’

'But the Bowmans didn't know that!'

Morse nodded. 'No-o. But they could have hung one of those "Do Not Disturb" signs on the door. In fact, they did.'

'Bit risky, though, hanging out a sign like that if you're supposed to be at a party.'

'Lewis! Don't you understand? They were taking risks the whole bloody time.'

As always when Morse blustered on in such fashion, Lewis knew that it was best not to push things overmuch. Obviously, what Morse had said was true; but Lewis felt that some of the explanations he was receiving were far from satisfactory.

‘If, as you say, sir. Bowman was dressed up, all ready to go, in exactly the same sort of clothes as the other fellow, where was he—?'

'Where? I dunno. But I'm sure all he had to do was put a few finishing touches to things.' 'Do you think he did that in Annexe 3?'

'Possibly. Or he could have used the Gents’ just off Reception.’

'Wouldn't Miss Jonstone have seen him?'

'How am I supposed to know? Shall we ask her, Lewis? Shall I ask her? Or what about you asking her - you're asking me enough bloody questions.'

'It's only because I can't quite understand things, that's all,

sir.' .

'You think I've got it all wrong, don't you?' said Morse quietly.

'No! I'm pretty sure you're on the right lines, sir, but it doesn't all quite hang together, does it?'

Chapter Twenty-eight

Monday, January 6th: a.m.

What is the use of running when we are not on the right road?

(GERMAN PROVERB)

There was a knock on the door and Judith, the slimly attractive personal assistant to the Secretary, entered with a tray of coffee and biscuits.

'Miss Gibson thought you might like some refreshment.' She put the tray on the desk. 'If you want her, she's with the Deputy - the internal number's 208.'

'We don't get such VIP treatment up at HQ,' commented Lewis after she'd left.

'Well, they're a more civilized lot here, aren't they? Nice sort of people. Wouldn't harm a fly, most of them.'

'Perhaps one of them would!'

'I see what you mean,' said Morse, munching a ginger biscuit. 'Don't you think,' said Lewis, as they drank their coffee, 'that we're getting a bit too complex, sir?'