'Did he smoke?'
'Not in the museum. No one smokes in the museum.'
'In the Common Room, or whatever you have?'
'I don't know.'
'You don't associate him with drugs at all?'
She glanced at him keenly before replying. '°There are no drugs here--not on my staff.'
'You'd know--if there were?
'As you say, some women have a particularly well-developed sense of smell, Inspector.'
Morse let it go. 'Have you still got his references?' The Administrator unlocked a filing-cabinet beside her and produced a green folder marked 'BROOKS, E'; and Morse looked through the half-dozen sheets it contained: Brooks's CV; a carbon of the letter appointing him wef September 1, 1993; a photocopied page giving details of Salary, National Insurance, Job Specification, Shift-Patterns; two open, blandly worded testimonials; and one hand-written reference, equally bland.
Morse read this last item a second time, slowly.
To the Administrator, Pitt Rivers Museum Dear Madam, I understand that Mr. Edward Brooks has applied to you for the post (as advertized in the University Gazette, June '93) of Assistant Attendant at the Mu se Ul TL Brooks has worked as a scout at Wolsey College for almost ten years and I recommend to you his ex perience and diligence.
Yours sincerely,
Felix Mc Clure (Dr.)
Well, well.
'Did you know Dr. Mc Clure?' asked Morse.
'No. And I shan't have a chance of knowing him now, shall I?'
'You heard...?'
'I read it in the Oxford Mail. I know all about Mr.
Brooks's illness, too: his wife rang through early on Mon-day morning. But from what they, s, y he's on the mend.'
Morse changed tack once more. know a lot of the ex-hibits here are invaluable; but.., but are there things here that are just plain valuable, if you know what I mean? Commercially valuable, saleable... T'
'My goodness, yes. I wouldn't mind getting my fingers on some of the precious stones and rings here. Or do 1 mean in some of them T'
But Morse appeared to miss the Administrator's gentle humour.
'Does Mr. Brooks have access to, well, to almost every-thing here really?'
'Yes, he does. Each of the attendants has a key to the wall-safe where we keep the keys to all the cabinets and drawers and so on.'
'So, if he took a fancy to one of your shrunken heads?'
'No problem. He wouldn't have to use a crow-bar.'
'I see.'
Jane Cotterell smiled, and thereby melted a little more ot Morse's heart.
'Do I gather you want me to show you a bit about the security system here?'
'Not really,' protested Morse.
She rose to her feet. 'I'd better show you then.'
Twenty minutes later they returned to her office.
'Thank you,' said Morse. 'Thank you for your patience and your time. You're a very important person, I can see that.'
'Really? Howm?'
'Well, you've got a capital 'A' for a start; then you've got a wall-to-wall carpet; and for all I know you've not only got a parking space, you've probably got one with your name on it.'
'No name on it, I'm afraid.'
'Still...'
'What about you?'
'I've got my name on the door, at least for the present.
But I've only got a little carpet, with a great big threadbare patch where my megapodic sergeant stands.'
'Is there such a word--'megapodic'?'
'I'll look it up when I get home. I've just treated myself to the Shorter Oxford.'
'Where is your home?'
